6.16.04 @ 11:02 Wednesday

“It’s my body and I’ll cry if I want to…”

Scratch that.

If I have ever complained about my stomach before I was sure in for an eye-opener. I spent from  5AM on throwing up every twenty minutes. Ever I would try to fall asleep after each hurl session, but I would only end up back in the bathroom a short while later. I kept waking up the girl I share my bathroom with but she did not seem to mind. After this had continued for an hour or two, I decided that I’d had enough. I painstakingly ventured downstairs to seek help. The guy there said he couldn’t help until 8AM when this Miguel arrived. Thus the torture began. After having hurled countless times, I was certain I could not withstand the agony any longer. I went downstairs early and all but passed out scantily clad on the lobby floor. As sick I was, I couldn’t have cared less. The inevitable downfall was a necessary venture. Some guy came over and threw a blanket over me to help me out. Gee thanks buddy. Don’t take me to a hospital or anything. A blanket will indeed miraculously cure me of my sickness!

Close to 8AM Miguel finally arrived to find me playing the role of a beached whale on the lobby room floor. He seemed to be a nice enough guy, and fortunately within a half hour he was helping me hobble to a taxi. Mind you, Toledo is not the city in which to be prone to car sickness. Ye olde ancient city streets don’t exactly allow for modern-day public transportation. Miguel and señor taxi driver were blessed to have witnessed firsthand the plague that ailed me. I regurgitated the remaining meager amounts of stomach acid not once, not twice, but three times on the way to the hospital.

“You can do it!”

Take it from me. Never EVER get sick in a country where hardly anyone speaks English… My truest test yet was to explain in Spanish what was wrong with me to the doctors. Oh and it didn’t stop there. They needed to know what medications I was on, what I was allergic to, and what potentially harmful diseases I maintained the possibility to possess. A wee bit befuddled, I did my best. I feel that I came across fairly fluente, but for all I know I could have looked like one pretty sick American fool. Miguel helped me out a little with his semi-easy-to-interpret español. They took blood to analyze, hooked me up to an IV so I could regain missing fluids, and injected me with random stuff to stop the vomiting. To this day I have no idea what they stuck in my arm.

I don’t think I’ve ever laid somewhere so painfully for so long. I felt so alone. I tried so hard to stay strong, but all I wanted to do was go home. I couldn’t talk to anybody, I felt extremely sick, I was really cold… Things were just not right in Stephanie-land. I laid there thinking I’d never fall asleep. I’d never be happy in this country and that I had to find some way to make it home…

Three hours later I woke up and felt unbelievably better. I was incredulously relieved. For all that I had imagined, I could have been poisoned to death by the injection they had given me to try and help. In any case, they came and told me that my blood was fine and that I required a special diet for a couple days before I would fully recuperate. No problem there. With all the stomach problems I have, I’m quite used to suffering the unfortunate repercussions of a restricted diet. They handed me this soda can of stuff called Aquarius, which is much like flavored water, and then sent me on my way. I was surprised to find that Miguel had stayed at the hospital the entire time that I had been sleeping there. He was successful in hailing us a taxi to take us home, and to my dismay I was quite shamefully reluctant to discover that we were to be taken back by the very same driver that had witnessed me at my worst only hours before. Upon entering I winced bleakly when he asked with a wry smile if I felt better. Thanks a lot dude for making the situation less awkward.

I now can’t decide if I should go home. I could get a flight back on Friday, but I don’t know. Everyone at home wants me to stay here, but I don’t know if I and my near non-functional stomach could handle it. Plus, I miss everyone at home a lot. The strangers I’ve observed here seem to all have known each other before coming. I don’t feel that welcome here. I don’t know. I guess I will give it another day. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?