So, I spent most of Sunday feeling cold and rather ill, without much appetite and a continuation of bad gas. I nearly knocked myself out that day… THAT bad. Monday, I got worse and finally I worked up the courage in Spanish to find myself to the hospital. I got a good ole IV stuck in my arm for a couple hours and a, “come back tomorrow in the morning,” sort of talk. When I returned back the apartment in the afternoon, my neighbor, friend, landlord, Maria Teresa encouraged me, in my delirium, to get back to that hospital until I knew what was wrong with me. I nearly keeled over on my way back to the clínica and with extreme pain in my midsection, was admitted, and hospitalized. Back on the IV and ready for my first ever extended-time in a hospital.
I have been rather fortunate to be the son of two amazing doctors who have always helped me differentiate broken limbs from illnesses. They can attest to the many idiotic and random injuries I have incurred throughout the 25 years I’ve managed to poodle along. So, they may read this and wonder why I didn’t involve them in the madness… why, they were on vacation and there’s nothing that they could have done anyhow! And, as normal with my traveling experiences, it might as well be that my first hospitalization ever occurred in Spanish… just to make it more fun!
A couple of scans, toying with my food (hospitals are notorious, and I now know why!), and watching the body’s reactions, was a fine experience for a day… then two… and finally three! I have insurance and I hope that it all works out, (I have yet to pay at the time of writing) because it seems to be an expensive endeavor to stay oneself in a hospital for three nights. Though the service is nice, formal and friendly, most expensive hotels don’t rack up the bill like the sick-house does, even with room service! Then again, I have never been able to control the ups and downs on my bed in most hotels either… you get what you pay for!
Short of it, I am fine, sort of. I am on a “light-regimented” diet… which means I can only eat the things I am trying to avoid eating, while suffering because I can’t eat the things I am trying to get more of. The ** from my previous post is for the goat cheese… and after a day out of the pen, I think that it was my overdose on queso de cabra in Vicuña that must have done me in. Those empanadas were so good I couldn’t resist… but my body wasn’t ready for the punishment I was about to inflict… nor did I know that I was attempting suicide by eating this. But I will finally admit that I may be somewhat lactose intolerant. I'm gonna try the doc tomorrow to see if he can give me a remedy to this possible bacterial madness.
And the other half of the short of it (probably more like the “long of it”) is that my body wanted to come back to Santiago… and it made it in the perfect time to take care of the problem. Though my mind had wanted me to stay in the Elqui Valley a bit longer, my traveling “ended” three days early… but not really because I was meant to be back to be nursed back to health. I thought I had just been having the typical traveler’s stomach, as it gets used to new places, foods and situations… but I apparently had a problem. Things work out and I will suffer with some more pain and a horribly bland diet as I get back to the States… I can just be happy to be alive still (true at the time of writing) despite the raging intestines and the whole payment thing. I watched the rain for three days from a hospital bed and the distant Andes now are peaked with gorgeous white snow....
NEXT!
I woke up in the hospital and it was pouring rain… which means fresh mountain snow. Though I was released in the morning, the problem is that the nightmare had just begun. I checked the ski resorts and they were about to open. The biggest one offered 75% off the price of lift tickets and the other ones are absolutely free… to ride the chair lifts to the top! It had been raining, dumping, flooding the Santiago streets for three solid days… and there are rumors of two, even four meters of snow at the local resorts. I inquired about a snowboard rental, as mine is in California, and I turned into a translator between some Aussie tourists and the store owners. This earned me a discount on a brand new board rental.
Why is this a nightmare you ask?
1) Six feet of fresh powder that not many people will get up to the top to ride. Firstly, because it was a workday and secondly because Chileans I know don’t get off the groomers.
2) The slopes are free to ride
3) Oh yeah, it is OPENING WEEKEND
4) I missed last season in North America because I was down here
5) SIX FEET OF FRESH POWDER!
6) Statistically, I can finally check off June as the last month of the year that I have snowboarded.
7) A major discount on a board rental… a big, heavy, de-tuned, free-ride, Rossi, 164… my size and style…
8) SIX FEET, possibly TWELVE FEET OF FRESH POWDER!
Everything is ready, I am ready to abandon my intestinal problems and the diet and even get re-admitted to the hospital. What kind of snowboarder would I be if I didn’t hit the slopes under these conditions? But that is the nightmare- I checked and tried and I COULDN’T get there…
Under bluebird conditions today, the slopes were open, but the road, the only road up there is closed by the same fresh, soft, pristine, white, six-foot blanket of Andes powder that tops the hills. The normal morning bus had been postponed indefinitely. Hitchhiking is always a possibility, but there was no traffic going.
An idea, “Dave, just go the next day, there will be plenty of pow pow even though it won’t be the freshest.” The response, “I will be on a plane approaching sunny Los Angeles, California.”
Three days in a hospital and the associated gastro-intestinal problems is nothing… actually, it sucks, even now. But the real pain is seeing the snow that I just can’t ride.
Despite the continued-aching in my midsection (caused by my slightly breaking the diet last night- NOT gonna happen again!) and my body's longing to the slopes, I am happy and excited. Friends and acquaintances here are already excited for my inevitable volver a Chile. They are making accommodations for me and planning future excursions to places I have yet to visit. They continue to make me yearn for more time in this wonderful Pacific paradise. They ask when I will be back. And my response is the same as always, and the truth...
Soon.
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