Unlikely Hero

by Beth Tally

You can agree or disagree with Hillary Clinton’s politics, but I’m telling you, she’s absolutely right on one thing – it truly DOES take a village.  In my case, it took 3 months, 15 pounds, 2 nurses, 8 doctors, 7 antibiotics and 1 extraordinary cab driver.

In order not to bore you with the details, let me just say that from November to February I suffered from an acute case of chronic diarrhea.  It started after our trip to Sayaxche (see this month’s article on the Up Jinks Journal page).  Don’t really know what caused it.  I was religious about only drinking bottled water.  I wouldn’t even take a cold shower in our room (there was no agua caliente at the hotel where we stayed) choosing instead to pour hot water from a drum dispenser out in the lobby into a plastic cup and giving myself what my father used to laughingly call a “whore bath” over the sink in the bathroom.  I didn’t eat any uncooked food, certainly not any lettuce.  The prime suspects for the source had to be the grayish sort of boiled-then-scrambled eggs I ate the first morning for breakfast or possibly the grease-saturated French fry I sucked on while motoring up the River of Passion to the Ceibal Mayan Ruins.  It couldn’t possibly have been the fried chicken we bought off the street – that was way too tasty to have been the problem. At any rate, it doesn’t really matter, whatever it was started me on a 12-week marathon of the squirts.

A lot like Hansel and Gretel, this odyssey found me leaving stool samples all the way from Guatemala to Arlington, Virginia.  They knew me on a first-name basis at the BioLab in Rio Dulce which is pretty significant since they speak no English and I’m hard pressed to continue much of a conversation after “Buenos Dias.”  Everybody who tried to help me was terrific.  My close friends at Mario’s Marina included two nurses, a gastroenterologist and an endocrinonologist.  They endured many collective hours over coffee at breakfast or around the Mah Jongg table in the afternoon discussing the sordid particulars of my condition and offering astute advice.  

I saw two Guatemalan doctors in Rio Dulce who diligently set out to de-bug, de-worm and de-flora me with elixirs known only to them.  While we were home for Christmas, I consulted with my personal internist and that of my daughter in Virginia.  With all of the tests and medicines, it mimicked an Olympic decathlon for an intestinal gold medal featuring events with names like giardia, c-diff, entomoebi hystolitica, and e-coli to name a few.

Ultimately, I ended up in Guatemala City with an appointment to see Dr. Karyn de Santa Cruz, an internist and infectious disease specialist well-known to the cruising community in Rio Dulce.  After all the evidence was in, Dr. Karyn diagnosed me with salmonella, a very clever bacteria that doesn’t hide out in stool samples, but signals its presence with low white blood cell counts.

Of the cast of thousands in this saga, however, the one who truly deserves the Oscar for his role as a supporting actor has to be Roderico, an incredible marathon-running, English-speaking cab driver without whom I never would have made it.  Our good friends Bob and Trish Meredith recommended Roderico.  They had used him on occasion for a couple of years and most recently needed his help when Bob had to have surgery.  This made the choice easy for us.  Roderico already knew how to get us to the doctor’s office as well as the other places we would need to go for tests and lab work.

My appointment with Dr. Karyn was on a Monday afternoon at 4:00.  Roderico pulled up promptly at 3:30 under the portico of the Biltmore Express Hotel.  His broad smile and strong handshake automatically made me feel confident.  He whisked us away and into the hectic stream of traffic on Roosevelt Ave.  It took about twenty minutes to get to the hospital where Dr. Karyn had her office.  We pulled into the parking lot and Roderico grabbed the one remaining space somehow miraculously available for us.  I explained that I had no idea how long we would be and asked if we should just call him when the appointment was over.  He said absolutely not.  He would be waiting right there for us.

Through a very thorough examination, Dr. Karyn determined that I would need not only a substantial battery of lab tests but also a colonoscopy.  She arranged the procedure for 9:00 the next morning.  Before we left her office, she scribbled a prescription twenty lines long for all the lab work I needed.  She explained that most of it was blood work requiring fasting.  This meant I would have to visit the lab early, before the colonoscopy.  But, there were a few things we could accomplish that afternoon including ONE MORE stool sample which Dr. Karyn very pleasantly reminded me needed to get to the lab no later than one hour after it happened.

After an hour and a half, we emerged from the hospital and found Roderico right where we’d left him in the parking lot.  Little did he know that his real work was just beginning.

The lab was across the street from the hospital and we decided to walk rather than move the car out of the lot.  I entered the building alone while John and Roderico went looking for a pharmacy to buy the Fleet prep I would need for the colonoscopy.  Since it was late in the afternoon, there weren’t many patients waiting, certainly not enough to require taking a number from the ticket dispenser that I spotted on one of three administrative desks at the back of the lobby. 

Before I could even sit down, a very pleasant young lady signaled for me to come to her station to begin my processing.  “Buenos tardes,” she said.

“Buenos tardes,” I replied “Como esta?”

“Bien, gracias, y usted?”

“Bien.”

And just like that – in typical fashion – the curtain came down on my conversational Spanish.  My eyes glazed over as I seriously scoured Dr. Karyn’s notes for the first time.  It hit me that I was in way over my head.

For the next few minutes, she asked me questions.  I intently stared at her hoping for a miracle, seeking the recognition of a word here and there.  Ah! Nombre – Name!  Oh! Cumpleanos – Birthday!  Every sentence she spoke elicited a “lo siento” (“I’m sorry”) from me as I apologized for not understanding her. 

It seemed like forever, although it wasn’t, before John and Roderico came in the door.  They probably could tell by my posture alone that I was stuck – leaning across her desk as if getting closer to her face would clue me in.  They both came over to the desk making us appear somewhat like a small committee. 

I told Roderico that I needed his help.  He and the young lady spoke some rapid-fire Spanish to each other and then looked at me sympathetically. 

To me, he says “Have you ever been to this lab before?”

“No, of course not.”

To her, “No, senora.”

To me,“Who is your doctor?”

“Dr. Karyn de Santa Cruz.”

To her, “Doctora Karyn de Santa Cruz.”

And so it went until I finished my business with her and she shuttled us over to the next desk where a very pleasant young man sat patiently observing the whole exchange.  I changed chairs.  Roderico and John slid along behind me.  A credit card swiping machine rested prominently on the corner of his desk so I figured out pretty quickly this must be where I paid. 

Thankfully, the young man could pull my information up on his computer, all of it having been entered at the station next door.  He looked at me professionally and said “Como va a pagar?”  Roderico leaned into my ear, “How do you want to pay?”

“By credit card.”

“Tarjeta credito, por favor.”

After perusing the list of tests Dr. Karyn had ordered, the young man asked something else, but this time he directed his question to Roderico figuring we could save a few seconds by doing so. 

“You only pay for the tests you’re getting today, so what tests are those?”  Roderico spoke very politely to me. 

I scanned the list and was mortified to decipher saline enema as the only likely prospect.  I swallowed what, after literally three months of crap (my apologies to my mother for the use of her most un-favorite word), was left of my pride and replied….

“I need for you to tell him the saline enema.”

With complete respect and no hint of embarrassment, Roderico indicated to the young man that I would be paying for the saline enema.  We completed the transaction and moved as a unit back out to the waiting area. 

In short order, a nurse arrived to escort me to one of the small examining rooms adjacent to the lobby.  I followed her, feeling not much different than a lamb to slaughter.  She shut the door behind us and began offering up instructions which, of course, had no specific meaning to me except that I could gather she wanted me to take the bottom portion of my clothes off.  I cooperated and hopped up on the examining table.  After several verbal attempts to convey what she wanted me to do, she resorted to charades and demonstrated the position I was to assume on the table.  Again, I cooperated.

The whole situation was awkward enough, but it became even moreso as, while lying there , Dr. Karyn’s  reminder of the necessity for an additional stool sample struck me like a thunderbolt.  I figured my best option was to try and get it while we were already at the lab.  Once we left and I began the Fleet prep, all bets were off.

The nurse finished her work and I probably shocked her as I hopped up off the table like a spring loaded coil.  Standing there half naked, I started sputtering a paltry string of Spanish words to let her know I needed something else.

“Lo siento.  No tengo las palabras ……..pero necessito…..”  (I’m sorry.  I do not have the words……but I need……)

She stood back and stared at me totally confused as I bolted over to my clothes, hopping around on one leg putting my underwear and pants back on. 

“Un momento, por favor,” I stammered, holding my hand up towards her, signaling that she should just stay right there.  I pulled the door open and made a beeline for Roderico.

“I need you to tell her that I have to leave a stool sample.” 

With great concern, he explained to the nurse what I needed.  She responded.  I looked back and forth between them like I was watching a tennis match.  The nurse departed through a door marked “Empleados solamente” (Employees only).”  Roderico tucked his hand under my elbow and escorted me back to the young lady sitting at the first desk.  Before I could offer up the sample, I needed to pay for it.  We retraced the process of registering the test in the system and then making payment.  No sooner had the credit card machine spit out my receipt, than the nurse reappeared with a plastic cup for me to use.  I went back into the examining room, which had a toilet, while John and Roderico sat back down in the lobby. 

It didn’t take long for me to have a modicum of success, enough anyway to accomplish what I needed.  I offered the prize to the nurse, thankful that after three months I was FINALLY through with this particular diagnostic exercise.

We left the lab, retrieved the car from the lot and Roderico drove us back to the Biltmore Express.  We agreed that he would pick us up the next morning at 7:45 which would get me to the lab at 8:00 for my blood work before the 9:00 colonoscopy appointment. 

Needless to say, I had a fitful night waking up every thirty minutes or so while the Fleet prep worked its magic.  By the time the sun came up, I was more than eager to get on with the day.  We went down to the lobby of the hotel where I had simultaneously watched John eat breakfast and CNN.  Roderico arrived at 7:45 and we struck out back to the lab. 

I encountered an entirely different scene this time.  The place was packed with people requiring me to take a number.  The wait helped me, though, because it gave Roderico time to find a place to park his cab and get back inside before they called me.  I felt pretty confident that things would go well.  I already understood the logistics of checking in and paying from the day before.  When my number came up, the three of us trotted over to the first desk where a new young lady had assumed the responsibility for processing the patients.  I presented her with Dr. Karyn’s list, the saline enema and stool sample having been checked off.  She entered the remainder of the tests in her computer and we automatically slid over to the pay desk. 

As perfunctorily as before, the minute my transaction cleared, a nurse came out of the employee door with……… yes…….. another stool sample cup.  I looked in disbelief at her.

“Que esta?”  (“What is that?”) blurted from my mouth.

She answered me in the equivalent of verbal buckshot, words flying out so fast I couldn’t distinguish anything. 

Roderico stepped in and asked her to repeat what she had said.

“They need another stool sample for the Giardia test,” he reported to me.

By now, I had conquered any embarrassment over him translating the discussion about my medical condition.  We might as well have been talking about the weather when I said “That’s quite impossible this morning.  I don’t have anything to give because I’m on my way to a colonoscopy!”

He calmly explained my predicament to the nurse, completely dropping my edgy tone and frustration from the comment. 

“What do you want to do?” he directed the question to me.

“I’ll have to ask the doctor later today.” 

He spoke again with the nurse.  She nodded and retreated back inside the door with the dreaded cup as we reclaimed our seats in the lobby.  In the interim, I remembered that the last few times I’d had blood drawn, my veins were totally uncooperative which required either the expertise of a phlebotomist or the use of a butterfly needle.  I turned to Roderico.

“I’m going to need your help one more time.”

“Okay.”

“How do you say butterfly needle in Spanish?”

He thought for a second.  “Aguja de mariposa.”

“Good.  Would you please tell them that they will have to use a butterfly needle on me?”

“Of course.”

When a male nurse came into the lobby and called my name, both Roderico and I stood up to approach him.  Roderico leaned in a little so that he could speak discreetly with the nurse and not broadcast all over the lobby.  I could tell by the expression on the nurse’s face that he understood.  He escorted me into an examining room and went to retrieve the needle.

Much to my great relief, the bloodletting took only a few minutes which meant we were right on time to get to the appointment for the colonoscopy.  Since Roderico already knew where to go, it took only a few minutes to get there.

Once again, we tried to persuade him to go on about his business while I went through the procedure and we would call him when I was finished.  This doctor spoke English, so we wouldn’t need him for translation.  But, he insisted on staying in case we needed anything.  For the next two hours, Roderico visited and chatted with other patients in the doctor’s office.

After I came out from under the anesthesia and had a chance to stabilize, John and I sat down with the doctor and discussed his preliminary observations.  Everything appeared to be okay, but he had taken a biopsy and needed to get the results back before he gave us his official opinion.  I explained to him what had happened that morning at the lab about the Giardia test and, hoping against hope that he would say no, asked him if I still needed to have it done.  He indicated that they still needed that information to be perfectly sure about what was wrong with me. 

This raised a very pertinent question.

“How am I going to give another stool sample now?  It usually takes two or three days after a colonoscopy to refill the pipeline, so to speak.”

“If you eat some fruit today and salad, you should be able to produce something,” the doctor  said, a little cavalierly to my way of thinking.  And then that all too familiar follow-up – “And it must be to the lab within an hour.”

The phrase rang in my head as we extracted Roderico from the waiting room.

“Okay, Roderico.  Here’s the deal.  We need to go back to the lab and get a cup for one more stool sample.”

“No problem.”

“And, I don’t know when it’s going to happen, probably not tonight, but when it does, I have to get it to the lab within an hour.”

“Whenever….. you just give me a call and allow fifteen minutes.  I’ll be there.”  His determination to see things through couldn’t have been any more sincere than if I were asking him to be on alert in case I went into labor.   

John and I went to Applebee’s for lunch (Guatemala City has all of the major U.S. chains including that wonderful totally stateside concept called Hooters) and I powered through a grilled chicken salad with plenty of Romaine, walnuts and apples.  Lo and behold, much to my surprise and incredible satisfaction, I completed this last debasing episode of the saga at around 6:30 the next morning.  We called Roderico.  He arrived before 7:00 and off we went weaving in and out of early rush-hour traffic like Mr. Toad and the weasel from Toad Hollow.  By 7:15, we pushed open the lab door one last time, our satisfaction akin to coming in first on The Amazing Race. 

I will always be totally indebted to Roderico.  He was such an unlikely yet stalwart hero in a most indelicate situation.  After the first episode at the lab, he could have decided to leave us to chance, but he didn’t.  We haven’t talked to him since he drove us to the Linea Dorado bus station to send us back to Rio Dulce.  I’m hoping that when we do call him again, he’ll answer and not hang up as fast as he can. 

(As an interesting aside – The total cost of our four-night stay in the city including meals, hotel, Roderico’s fare, the lab work, the colonoscopy, and Dr. Karyn’s services was less than the monthly premium we pay for our health insurance in the U.S.)

Beth Tally is a travel and fiction writer.  She and her husband, John, live on their sailboat “Up Jinks” currently in Guatemala and the Northwest Caribbean.  Her first book, entitled “The Beacon,” was published in 2007.  You can find her stories at www.lifesstory.com.

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