7. June 18-19, 2011

Saturday June 18, 2011    Palmar

Today Freddie was boiling potatoes outside on the barbeque because our gas had run out. Estefania our landlady hadn’t yet returned from town to get us more. Stephanie and Danielle, who were visiting from Jerez, had gone to the beach. I was extremely tired from going to the beach earlier with Freddie, our day in the sun, and some tinto de verano (wine and lemon soda, typically Andalucian) at the Lazotea, so I stayed home. 

I was in the living room/kitchen on the computer. Suddenly I heard a “thunk” and I turned around and there was Freddie on the floor and in the doorway with the spilled pot of boiled potatoes. He said, “Baby help me” and I thought he had broken a bone or a pelvis or a back. Then he said to take off his shirt and I realized that boiling water from the potatoes had spilled on him. I grabbed the back of his red tee shirt and I pulled it up. But I could not get the front of his tee shirt off his stomach because he wasn’t getting up and he was still lying face down. 

I had to get him turned over to remove the scalding tee shirt. So I grabbed a towel and put it on the slippery floor next to him. I rolled him over onto the towel and then dragged him all the way into the house. 

I told him not to try moving immediately. I went to the sink and got cold water and poured it over his burned stomach for a while where I could see the burn. Then I grabbed a towel and then some lavender oil to put on him. I didn’t get him dry enough for the oil to fully be absorbed, and I felt that it did not have its full effect on his skin. I didn’t know then that Freddie’s right arm was also badly burned, so I didn’t get the lavender oil on that one until a while later. 

Freddie’s watch, which he wears on his right hand, was starting to actually burn him, it was so hot, and he told me to take it off, which I was able to do.

Next I dragged Freddie on the towel to the leg of the kitchen table. From here he was able to pull himself up. When Freddie could stand, which I was relieved that he was able to do, I got his shirt all the way off and we realized that the worse thing that had happened was his burns. I helped him into the bathtub and we filled it with cold water, which he replenished as needed. 

When he was done, I tried to dry his stomach but that hurt him too much. His stomach was starting to blister in one place. But he said to look at his arm. Where I had not put the lavender oil on, I saw several ugly blisters. I poured some oil on, but again I think the water on the skin prevented the oil from fully penetrating. Freddie started to feel pain and said that he thought he needed to go to the hospital. 

My first thought was to call Karim, which I did. Earlier that day on the Lazotea, Karim had told me that he was planning to stay in Palmar for the night and to return to Conil in the morning. The first friend he had ever made in Spain, thirty years ago, was visiting. This was a special time for them both.

But I didn’t think of that when I called him; only that he was here in Palmar and had a minivan. I asked him if he could take us into Conil, to the hospital. I told him that Freddie had fallen and burned himself. Karim said that he would call Hector and ask him where the closest first aid station was and then call back in five minutes. 

I grabbed the phone and went to look for Stephanie and Danielle on the beach, because there is only one key to the apartment, and when the door closes, it automatically locks. Stephanie had left her phone and purse in the kitchen, and Freddie had been in the middle of cooking, with chicken breast outside on a plate on the wooden table next to the barbeque. He also had sardines, Spanish chorizo, long green frying peppers, and zucchini there on plates, waiting to be cooked.

I ran to the beach, phone in hand, and when I couldn’t find them I ran down the beach nearer to our apartment, in case they had chosen a different place from where we usually go. But I couldn’t find them there either. As I returned, Karim showed up. Hector had told him that Conil was the closest place for an emergency station. Karim hadn’t called me back; he had just hurried over to save time. Having been in this crisis situation many times before, I grabbed my cell phone and charger, a sweater, some water and looked for my one candy bar, which I later found in my purse. 

We left the door wide open (there is no half way position –it locks when it shuts itself and of course we didn’t’ want to lock out our guests). I stuck the beach chair in the doorway so that the door would not swing shut by mistake.

On our way to Conil, I called and left a message for Stephanie and then I sent her a text telling her what happened to us, asking them to please cook the dinner that Freddie had started, and to call me when she got the message. She called a minute or two after I had sent the text. We had just missed each other. 

Within ten minutes we were at the emergency station, a clean and efficient clinic. There were a few people waiting but when I told them that my husband had burned himself with boiling water, they took him into a room immediately. A nurse began to pour sterilized water over his burns. Next the doctor came and together they put a cream over the burns and then bandages. They also gave him a shot in the behind of Nolotil, a common painkiller used in Spain. 

They informed us that Freddie would need to return the next morning, between eleven and twelve. He will also need to come again on Monday. The nurse spoke to us in English when she heard me translating the conversations for Freddie. 

Karim had gone to wait outside when he knew that I could deal with things in Spanish. I didn’t know until a little later, that he had arranged for someone to drive his friend to Conil so they could continue their visit together.

Fortunately my Spanish has improved over the years and I had no problems at all communicating at the medical facility. The doctor, nurse and staff were very nice and very efficient. Everything was clean and well lit. It was night and day different from the big public hospital in Sevilla that Freddie had almost died in, in 2002. 

They asked me for Freddie’s ID card and I told them that he didn’t have one, but that he had a drivers’ license. They said that they needed his passport. I had the passport numbers in my phone, but they said that wasn’t good enough, that they needed a photocopy of or the actual document. But I had left those in Sevilla and I couldn’t give them what they wanted. So they decided that they were able to accept his license. 

Next, I had to take a pain killer prescription to the pharmacy that was still open, about five minutes away up a hill. It was already about 10:30 PM on a Saturday night. The front door of the pharmacy had a cage over it but there was a little window, which the pharmacist went to when I rang the bell. I handed her the prescription and she came back with the medicine. It cost 2 euros and 50 cents! 

I returned and before they gave us back Freddie’s drivers’ license, they had to do the paperwork for the bill. I needed to pay it on Monday at a Caja Sol bank. I could do this in Sevilla. Then I need to fax them the proof of payment. The bill was just under fifty euros. I was amazed. In the US it all would have taken longer and would have cost a lot more! This is an example of when socialized medicine works perfectly. Karim says that that is one of the things he loves about Spain, his adopted country of the last thirty years. 

Karim’s friend Ignacio rode back to Palmar with us. We invited them for dinner, but Ignacio had arranged to take Karim to a restaurant in Palmar. Karim said that he would text me later about whether he could pick Freddie up tomorrow or whether we had to call a taxi. Later he did text me that he would pick us up at eleven thirty the next morning.

When we arrived home, Stephanie and Danielle had dinner just ready. Stephanie said that she knew right away when they got to the house that something had happened. She said that it didn’t smell right. That is because while Freddie was in the bathtub, I had been busy cleaning the tile floor, which was as slippery as soap from the potato water and mushy potatoes. I was finally able to remove the film with a tile cleaner that Freddie had in the bathroom. I was terrified that one of us would slip and fall on the slick floor and get hurt. But I got it all cleaned up and later washed the towels I had used and hung them on the line. I had also used the mop and broom, which I had then washed and aired in the sun outside. 

On Freddie’s suggestion, I had scooped up a lot of the potatoes and rinsed them off and put them in a colander. They were later re-cooked and reused. They turned into delicious mashed potatoes. We ate around eleven, outside on the wooden picnic table. By the time we had finished it had gotten cold and I was glad that I had lugged my travel jacket again. It takes up room in the suitcase, but it was needed. 

A new club has opened up nearby our apartment and we could hear the boom boom of the music as we ate outside. Freddie decided that he wanted to go and hear it, so he and the girls went. I put on warm clothes and did my ankle exercises and attended to the laundry. Stephanie came back to drop off her purse. She said that it was hip-hop music and that Freddie was enjoying it. I did not feel up to joining them. I think I was having a posttraumatic stress flashback and I just wanted to be by myself and to center myself. Taking Freddie to the hospital scares me. I have done it way too often.

However, I did find myself being incredibly thankful that Freddie had not broken any bones, that we had gone to a wonderful and easy medical facility and he was taken care of. I was also thankful that it had not cost too much, although we should be covered by our American health insurance for the first 60 days of our trip, which we are still in. I am both amazed and happy that Freddie felt well enough to go out. I felt like being here writing, so that is what I am doing. This is my way of processing what happened. What a long day this has been. 

When Freddie and I woke up this morning, before all this trauma, Freddie had made coffee and then cooked bacon for us. I heated up the breakfast of vegetable and chicken that I had brought with me from Sevilla, and Freddie cooked eggs for himself. Then our landlady Estefania and her brother, one of Freddie’s very loving drinking buddies, came by to fix the shower curtain rods that had come out of the wall last week. (That was when Freddie had gotten drunk and fallen into the bathtub when trying to use the toilet). Estefania and her brother also looked at the television that wasn’t working and decided to replace it with one that they had in storage. 

I asked the brother, whose name I still don’t know, to fix the showerhead holder too, because Freddie had told me that it didn’t work. I hadn’t realized that it didn’t work because the hose wasn’t long enough to reach it; –so Spain!  So instead of buying a new hose, I asked if he could just lower the holder because I couldn’t reach the one that was there, which was working last year. He liked that idea. 

I mentioned that you knew it was men doing those things because of the heights of things. Women are not as tall as men, and in Spain they hang the showerheads very high. In our apartment Angel has lowered the showerhead for me too. He did that about two years ago. Actually he put in a second holder, so there are two choices, one of which I can reach. 

While the brother was working, which he does when he is not drinking too much, Estefania told me that her stomach hurt. I offered to put some oils on her, so for more privacy, we went to her house which is also one of these apartments. 

Originally her family had owned all this and had lived in the house in back. But Estefania was now taking care of a lot of her siblings and separated from her husband. She had had to sell the back house and to move into one of the apartments herself. She was full of stress trying to handle everything. This is typical of many Spanish women I have met. 

As I put oils on for her muscles, which she had strained lifting, she complained that she could feel her heart beating through her stomach. When I pressed in with my fingers I could feel it too, so I put on some lavender oil to soothe both her and her muscles. 

Then I ran back for the Aroma Life, a blend which can help the heart. I have used it to lower blood pressure before, testing with a machine both before and after. Estefania began to feel a little better. A friend of hers came over during the treatment and told her that she needed to relax more. We talked about relaxing techniques and being here now, in the present moment. I shared a Thich Nhat Hanh story with her; how when doing dishes one should not think about the past or the future, only the process of doing the dishes, being totally in the present. I added the thought of being thankful for the water, that it was hot, the dishes and being able to wash them. I suggested that she try that as an exercise. She seemed to understand what I was talking about. Hopefully she will try it. 

Finally everything was done and Freddie and I went to the beach. The ocean was quite rough with a lot of waves, so we didn’t actually swim, although we did go in the water. It was windy, but not enough to blow the sand on us. It was just enough for us to be almost fooled about the strength of the sun. But we put on lotion and didn’t burn at all. We got back to the house just before Stephanie and Danielle arrived from Jerez. Danielle lives in Portland, Oregon and is visiting Spain to study Flamenco dance. We women drank tinto de verano. Freddie had a beer. Everyone in Spain drinks beer like water and no one seems to be able to imagine life without beer. 

As we were talking, Freddie remembered that the Lazotea was serving paella again and it was scheduled for two o’clock. It was already five, so we walked over and there was still paella left this time. It was delicious. I had another tinto de verano, and everyone else drank beer. Then Stephanie wanted to eat gambas (shrimp) so she and Danielle walked to la Cerverceria for a tapa. Freddie and I bought some food at the small convenience store market next door and then went home to put away the food and to start dinner. 

I was exhausted from the two tinto de veranos I drank (I hardly ever drink) and the sun of the beach, so I stretched out on the couch while Freddie started to prepare dinner. The girls came back and I got up and walked with them up to the little puesto (little stall) where Stephanie and I have bought some incredible and cheap clothes for the last three years. I bought a little bolero vest with sleeves for me, and a silk wraparound skirt for Josie, my granddaughter who will be five on June 22. It matches a top I bought there three years ago, and I thought Josie might want something to match her grandmother, although I know that usually she prefers pants to skirts and dresses. But I think this will be very comfortable and more like wearing light shorts. 

Then I went back home to lie down again and the girls went to the beach. Hector always calls them “the girls” and I guess I have adopted that tag, since they are both younger than our children. Freddie was busy preparing a feast until, instead of dumping the potato water outside as he thought he should have done in hindsight, he tripped over the step he forgot about and scalded himself with the water in the pot, as I wrote about.

That was our day. Now he is home and feeling good. At 11:30 AM we go to the doctor again. 

Monday June 19, 2011

Sunday Karim was kind enough to drive us to see the doctor again. When we arrived at the clinic they looked at the time that Freddie had come in the night before and said that not enough time had passed for them to see Freddie again. The bandages still looked white and clean and new. It was a good sign that there was no pus oozing out. 

When we arrived there they said that it would cost us another fifty euros, that each visit was fifty euros. After they told us that it was too early to see Freddie and that he would need to return the next day, I responded that that was a lot of money at 50 euros per visit. They said that we wouldn’t need to pay for that day because they didn’t do anything, and then the doctor informed the receptionist who proceeded to tear up the bill. That was nice. But I guess socialized medicine isn’t quite as cheap as I thought, at least not at that clinic in Conil.

SPAIN CHRONICLES 2011

May 10-25 Writings
May 18 Writings
May 19-22 Writings
May 23-29 Writings
June 5-10 Writings
June 11-16 Writings
June 18-19 Writings
June 21-26 Writings
June 27 – July 9 Writings
July 17 – August 3 Writings
August 5-6 Writings