Flamenco! Whenever I use to think of Spain when I was younger, I use to think of Flamenco. It might have to do with the fact that I have a million of those flamenco dancer dolls from here, but anyways...I love dance--I'm not exactly a fabulous dancer (I lack rhythm and coordination), but I love watching dance. Our cultural activity for the week was going to see a flamenco show. It was in this tiny little theater in Plaza Real. First, the guitar played came out. I loooooove Spanish guitar--there's just so much passion in the music. Then, the singer and the clapper guy came out. And finally the guy with the box and the dancer came out. I was blown away by the intensity and beauty.
My other Spanish experience this week wasn't so fun....
I went to La Boqueria during my break from classes on Wednesday to get some fresh fruit and juice. I had enough time to drop off my purchases at the apartment and then head to Montjuic for my architecture field study. I didn't quite make it back to the apartment as planned or to my field study. While walking down the stairs in the metro station, I tripped and fell on my ankle. I knew I had hurt myself because I was certain I had felt something in my ankle snap and it had immediately swelled up to the size of an orange. So there I was, stuck on the metro floor with every passerby staring at me. One of the metro workers called an ambulance (because there was no way I could walk) and I had to call IES (the program I'm here studying with). Someone from IES came to go to the hospital with me. I got to ride in the ambulance, sans sirens (that would have been really cool).
Now this just be my take on it but I felt like the paramedics (who actually bickered who got to push the wheel chair), the hospital workers, the nurses, and doctors all had a pretty laid back attitude. But that could have been because I was in pain, my ankle looked like it was ripe and ready to be juiced, and every time I asked for a pain killer, they told me later.
I got xrays and had 3 different people come in and poke and pull and push my ankle and foot to see if it hurt (UH yeah it hurts, do you not see the orange that has replaced my ankle?). I was finally told I hadn't broken my ankle, but I had torn the ligaments in it. The nurse wrapped my foot up in a cast (not a hard one, but unremovable and uncomfortable). I was kind of over the hospital thing at this point because it had been a couple hours and I was tired and hungry, in pain, and just wanted to go home. The doctor came in to tell me what medicines he had prescribed me. I wasn't really paying attention when all of a sudden my I heard "inyección." The Spanish translator in my head switched back on and I asked him what the hell he was talking about. He told me that I was going to have to get a shot to prevent blood clotting because the compression from the cast and my immobility could cause a clot (I don't exactly buy that, but whatever). I calmed down for about a second (a shot, I can handle a shot), but then he said I would have to get a shot once a day for the next 5 days. When I asked who was going to give me this shot, he said I would have to give it to myself. And that's when I flipped the hell out. I was pretty much hysterical and kept insisting that there was no way I could give myself a shot. No way. Nope, not happening. The doctor and nurse insisted I would have to. Still hysterical, the nurse came over, stuck a needle in my stomach and told me that was all I had to do--not comforting at all.
The hospital did not have crutches--so the person I was with ran out to an orthopedic store to buy me some. Theyre not normal crutches either. They're weird Spanish crutches--I don't really know how to describe them. They work fine--I'm going to get super buff hoisting myself around on them.
I've been instructed to do nothing for 5-7 days, which means no class, no sightseeing, no shopping, no going out at night, and no hiking Montserrat on Saturday. Also, San Juan is on Tuesday, but the parties start on Monday night. I really want to go, but I don't know if I'll be able to. I have to go back to the doctor next week to get this cast off and see if the swelling has gone down. I hope I gain some mobility, because I really don't want to be stuck in this apartment for the last two weeks.
So after that 4 hour ordeal, I finally made it back to the apartment and have pretty much done nothing since. I'm pretty bored since my roommates are all in class. In the grand scheme of things, I'm totally fine and it could have been much worse--at least I didn't break it, or fall and hit my head or my back. However, I would like a cooler story than just falling down the stairs at the metro--so any ideas would be greatly appreciated.
My other Spanish experience this week wasn't so fun....
I went to La Boqueria during my break from classes on Wednesday to get some fresh fruit and juice. I had enough time to drop off my purchases at the apartment and then head to Montjuic for my architecture field study. I didn't quite make it back to the apartment as planned or to my field study. While walking down the stairs in the metro station, I tripped and fell on my ankle. I knew I had hurt myself because I was certain I had felt something in my ankle snap and it had immediately swelled up to the size of an orange. So there I was, stuck on the metro floor with every passerby staring at me. One of the metro workers called an ambulance (because there was no way I could walk) and I had to call IES (the program I'm here studying with). Someone from IES came to go to the hospital with me. I got to ride in the ambulance, sans sirens (that would have been really cool).
Now this just be my take on it but I felt like the paramedics (who actually bickered who got to push the wheel chair), the hospital workers, the nurses, and doctors all had a pretty laid back attitude. But that could have been because I was in pain, my ankle looked like it was ripe and ready to be juiced, and every time I asked for a pain killer, they told me later.
I got xrays and had 3 different people come in and poke and pull and push my ankle and foot to see if it hurt (UH yeah it hurts, do you not see the orange that has replaced my ankle?). I was finally told I hadn't broken my ankle, but I had torn the ligaments in it. The nurse wrapped my foot up in a cast (not a hard one, but unremovable and uncomfortable). I was kind of over the hospital thing at this point because it had been a couple hours and I was tired and hungry, in pain, and just wanted to go home. The doctor came in to tell me what medicines he had prescribed me. I wasn't really paying attention when all of a sudden my I heard "inyección." The Spanish translator in my head switched back on and I asked him what the hell he was talking about. He told me that I was going to have to get a shot to prevent blood clotting because the compression from the cast and my immobility could cause a clot (I don't exactly buy that, but whatever). I calmed down for about a second (a shot, I can handle a shot), but then he said I would have to get a shot once a day for the next 5 days. When I asked who was going to give me this shot, he said I would have to give it to myself. And that's when I flipped the hell out. I was pretty much hysterical and kept insisting that there was no way I could give myself a shot. No way. Nope, not happening. The doctor and nurse insisted I would have to. Still hysterical, the nurse came over, stuck a needle in my stomach and told me that was all I had to do--not comforting at all.
The hospital did not have crutches--so the person I was with ran out to an orthopedic store to buy me some. Theyre not normal crutches either. They're weird Spanish crutches--I don't really know how to describe them. They work fine--I'm going to get super buff hoisting myself around on them.
I've been instructed to do nothing for 5-7 days, which means no class, no sightseeing, no shopping, no going out at night, and no hiking Montserrat on Saturday. Also, San Juan is on Tuesday, but the parties start on Monday night. I really want to go, but I don't know if I'll be able to. I have to go back to the doctor next week to get this cast off and see if the swelling has gone down. I hope I gain some mobility, because I really don't want to be stuck in this apartment for the last two weeks.
So after that 4 hour ordeal, I finally made it back to the apartment and have pretty much done nothing since. I'm pretty bored since my roommates are all in class. In the grand scheme of things, I'm totally fine and it could have been much worse--at least I didn't break it, or fall and hit my head or my back. However, I would like a cooler story than just falling down the stairs at the metro--so any ideas would be greatly appreciated.
2 comments:
You were playing futbol with FC Barcelona and got taken out... that's a better story. But get better soon!!!
Aww! Get better soon! Order Net Flicks en espanol.
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