Well, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything. I’ve been so busy, and a little depressed… eating bread, olive oil, and sipping too much wine every day. The wine is like candy, it’s so cheap, and bread is near free. My hips are not happy. I’ve been to 3 more doctors since my last post and not one has checked my blood pressure or weighed me. At least I still don’t know the damage of my eating the Spanish way.

Those 3 and 4-course meals for $10 are really a problem here. But damn is the food good. Hearty, warm, stick- to- your -ribs food. I.e. Spanish meatball soup (SOPA de pelota) (1 big meatball in a bowl of broth) yummy!  More to soak my bread in!

I live in artichoke country and have had artichokes fried, sautéed with calamari, you name it….I’ve never had it so good or in so many ways.

I digress. I’ve started running again to counteract my eating. What was I thinking?

I was a runner years ago before my cancer and continued to be a stair climber for years instead. But I thought Ide try anyway. I had a good night’s sleep last Wednesday which is very rare for me, and since I was off school at 12:30 and I had extra energy, I dressed in my old Asics and went to the canal near my apartment lined with miles of lush trees and palms on either side of the path. Of course, it was also the day we had dust in the air from the Sahara desert that blew in and turned the sky orange. It was probably not a good idea to run and suck in dust, but once I have an idea, I’m not stopping. Off I went. Dust be damned.

Earphones in with music, I took off. It was not pretty. I managed to run so slow I was nearly going backward on my first try. Glad it was the middle of the day and hardly a person around to laugh at the soon-to-be fatter American in bright orange socks and holey Asics.

I decided out of pure stubbornness to run 1 mile without stopping. I made it to 2.  It took an hour. Everyone knows you can walk faster than that. My legs felt like lead. Funny the song “Wake me up when it’s all over” played on my phone at the end; very fitting as it was an agonizing first run. But I finished.

I then saw a path up some stone steps to my neighborhood and headed up and couldn’t hardly lift my legs. So much for stair climbing. But it was beautiful, green palm trees and pink flowers growing along a lush fieldstone path at the top of the stairs and an iron bench was waiting for me. I dragged myself to it and stretched. I then sat and enjoyed where I was for the first time. Surrounded by greenery, I saw the top of the old church with its shiny blue dome peeking over the trees above me. I took a deep breath and sighed. The Hawaiian song “Somewhere over the Rainbow” played on my phone; it was very fitting.

Well, it was the serenest non-alcoholic induced feeling of happiness I’ve had since arriving in Spain. I felt grateful to be here finally. Unless it was just oxygen deprivation causing delirium or endorphins, I’m not sure but I’ll take what I can get. I decided I will run again.. and as soon as possible when I can walk.

In the meantime, I went to the rheumatologist who found something funny on my bloodwork. She sent me to a hematologist 3 days later as something in my blood protein was off on a chart. The numbers were ok, but the blood was shaped in some kind of “bands” is all she said.

So off I went to IMED again; the private hospital with the white walls and no damn signs to direct anyone. I went in to see the new blood doctor behind “door # 8” like the Price is Right.  And of course as usual there was no nurse, only him, in his office with an exam table in the same room. ( Shouldn’t an exam room be separate from the docs desk?) I mean what if someone was just there coughing up a lung and sprayed germs on his desk and chair that I’m now sitting in?…ewww

Anyway I need to focus:

He was middle-aged, chubby, (hmmm unusual for these skinny Spaniards I see everywhere) with gray hair and a quirky smile. He wore a lab coat with no name and his shirt was unbuttoned slightly just enough to make him look unkempt. I thought did he just roll out of bed or is he due for his siesta?

He spoke English well enough and has been to the United States, but like many, he said “you Americans work too hard there.” Of course, it’s what they all say to me. However, we do have more money and know-how to dress as professionals, I thought sarcastically looking at his loose button.

Anyway, I already read up on him before my visit and he was the head blood doctor in another city last year. But I didn’t ask about that. If he was a director somewhere else before, I didn’t want to know why he was here looking unkempt. I wasn’t feeling confident to ask… .

He asked me if I knew why I was there. I said yes and I pulled out my lab results to show him what the other doc said. He looked at it as if he hadn’t seen my chart before. And he had not. Ok, as the nurse, let me fill you in: I almost spit out of my mouth. I pointed to my results and succinctly told him what I knew and what my history was. He then said, Well everything looks ok but we need some more blood work and a full-body x-ray.

I think you have a “little disease” he says. Like what, I’m a child? This isn’t matchbox cars and barbie dolls here. He then gets up and goes to a closet and hands me a urine bottle for a 24-hour urine test. I say um what do you mean a little disease? A little multiple myeloma? I say. As I already researched the “band anomaly” in my blood and prayed he would not say “bone marrow aspiration.”

He said no “I think maybe MGUS.” I knew what that was as it’s sometimes found in those with multiple myeloma before they get it. But the good thing is, only 1% of cases develop into myeloma. And he adds; “I doubt you have any bone lesions but we will see.” Meanwhile, he, like my last 3 doc visits doesn’t touch me. No checking if any glands are swollen or anything. Well, y’all make a lot less money for a reason I’m now thinking. didn’t you learn to do an exam?. My inside voice won’t shut up.

So with my container in hand, I’m sent to x-ray and then to schedule the lab work.

They did the x-ray the same day which was fine with me. One thing off the list. And all the time I’m still thinking supposedly some of the best medical care in the world is in Spain? Really? I’m not so sure after never being physically examined or wondering if they can dress themselves. I’m silently wishing I didn’t give up my USA health insurance via Cobra in case  I have to go back. Bite my tongue I think. So far my insurance here has paid everything with no co-pays (excluding drugs). And don’t get me started I finally got my Enbrel shots the rheumatologist ordered. Turns out the generic of the shots from the US here is $800 monthly in cash. So much for generic anything and “everything is cheaper in spain”. That was my 2^nd shock for the week. I’m trying to stay sober, really I am. And look for online Indian pharmacies in the meantime.

So

Long story short I did my 24-hour urine 2 days ago as I was home on Sunday and went on Monday. I normally drink so much water I needed 2 containers to equal 4 liters of pee. Jorge had to run to a pharmacy and buy me 2 extra jugs. Now I don’t pee normally since my anal cancer as the radiation did a number on my urethra, so I pee in different directions. So I had to use a small bucket to catch the pee and not hit the floor and transfer it to the urine holder. Then in the middle of the night, I spilled one of the buckets all over my bathroom floor and my legs.  I was pissed. I was mad that no one ever explained how to do a 24 hr. urine (even though I know as a nurse) and I just splattered myself and everything at 2 am.

I basically was on my 3^rd liter and since I splattered maybe a cup? I thought oh well. I was exhausted from no sleep and worried over another cancer scare, angry at the sudden $800 medication bill and that I had holes in my Asics.  So I said the hell with it all and did not start the collection over again even though I know your supposed to. Now despite mopping my bathroom 3x times with bleach it still smells. I think the pee hit the wall like my lack of patience.

Anyway, I went to Imed on the bus, with my backpack filled with ice packs and dropped it off, glad I made it with no more mishaps, and did the rest of my blood. Done.  I also have already seen my x-rays as here they let you see results before even the doc sees them. Unfortunately, I don’t know how to read x-rays, however, I didn’t see anything stick out as obvious. Although my brain x-ray did look empty. Go figure. I definitely drink too much.

So this week at the school at least I’m distracted, it’s been raining like cats and dogs and freezing. I walk in the rain every morning to meet the teachers and ride in. The school keeps the doors and windows open to keep out covid, and they never turn on the heat. Never. I’m freezing my arse off. And now I’m wet too and not in a good way. Sorry for that. 

In my first-grade classes, the kids are nuts. That’s a good distraction. But they are sweet at times too. In one class there is one small boy about 6 who always wants to be next to me when I do “group stuff in the back.” It’s like he must see me sitting on the children’s chairs inches from the ground and  knows I’m just his height sitting there.(and I can’t get up as its so low to the ground either so I can’t run away).  He runs over and looks at the name list and dutifully helps me call each child. He reads and understands more English than all the other kids.

Yesterday he stood by me with his little arm wrapped around my shoulder as I did the lesson. It wasn’t his turn to be in the lesson but he stuck to me like glue. Then he stroked my hair. The kids are fascinated with my blond hair and often when sitting they want to touch it. It was sweet either way. Kids are curious and they want to touch everything.  I just hoped he hadn’t picked his nose 5 minutes before.

The kids are affectionate and loving in so many ways.  Another teacher told me that as well. They are great when they are great, but when they are out of control it’s a mess, but they always come back around happy and affectionate no matter what. Anyway, I appreciated his little arms on my shoulders. I thanked him for helping me and he beamed like star,  grinned ear to ear then he skipped off to play with his buddies.

So in my usual escapist fashion I have booked another trip. I’m leaving tomorrow for Porto Portugal for 3 days. Why? Because emotional moments call for a new location. My trigger finger always follows my emotions. That I can count on. A proper 24 -hour urine? Not so much.

I’ll fill you in in 2 weeks on the outcome from the unkempt hematologist.

Nos vemos

Somewhere in Spain