Nicaragua Day 6

Day 6 – The Final Day


The beginning of our day was a hectic rush to get our people to the various clinics and hospitals that we were each going to. It was planned that I would go the hospital with Paul, Rachel, Jeff, and Candido and my father would go to a clinic to continue teaching about ultrasound. What happened was that Paul, Rachel, Jeff, and Candido forgot about me and I only noticed when there was only one car left. It was my dad. As soon as he realized what happened, he told me to get in the car quick. He hopped in the driver’s seat and our translator and I jumped in the back seats. We were going on a car chase. In Nicaragua, where traffic signs are general suggestions and “double doubling” (a move where a car tries to pass you and you try to outrace it) is a normal driving maneuver. We swerved around donkeys and children. Finally, at a crossroad, I was able to get out of the car, run up to it, and slam on the window. They stopped the car and I jumped in before the oncoming traffic could reduce me to a tortilla.
No more messing around in clinics and mud huts. We were going to the main hospital! The first thing I noticed when the doors opened were the trees growing in the lobby. I was not initially impressed. We were soon greeted by several of the doctors in the hospital. They led us into a conference room where we talked about medicine, doctors, and Jeff’s soccer exploits. I was mostly busy trying to take pictures around the gigantic flower in the middle of the table.
As we checked out the rooms we were happy to find that the hospital was much better equipped than the clinic (understandably) but only had one sink (less so).
I drove back to the clinic where my dad was working and stayed there the rest of the day. Eventually the group from the hospital came over to the clinic to demonstrate the ECG machine and defibrillators. On me. All I could think during the entire time I was lying on the table was “if one of these nurses misunderstands the translator, she is going to press that button and deliver a thousand volts to my chest. Fortunately none did and I simply entertained myself by making my heart rate go up and down to annoy the nurses.
We drove back to the hotel we first stayed at. The hotel, Los Mercedes, had lost its touch of Hispanic authenticity with the giant, blue Best Western sign hanging over it. Some of us swam in the pool. I read a book. We ordered some nachos. I was a little disappointed that the chips were from a bag and the cheese was Velveeta. After our appetizer, we headed over to the restaurant where I had had my little misadventure with the egg man. We were all really hungry. I ordered two sandwich entrees, one steak and one club. Rachel ordered ravioli and a shrimp cocktail. When it came, it looked really good. The shrimp coctail came out. Rachel took a shrimp and plopped half of it in her mouth. Her eyes bugged out. She plucked the stringy mass out of her mouth and threw it to a nearby stray cat. “Do not” she said as she grimaced “eat the shrimp. It tastes like it’s been left out for days.” This is about the time I took my first bite of club sandwich. It was covered by a hidden layer of some sort of orange mustard that looked and tasted like cat vomit. Rachel stuck her fork in her ravioli. Her fork came up carrying a one-inch layer of cheese. She looked at it with distaste. She started throwing the rest of the shrimp to the cats. I took a bite of my steak sandwich. When I say a bite, I mean I bit down on it and pulled as hard as I could. I came away with half the sandwich trailing out of my mouth. Paul was happily munching on his hamburger. When we were all thoroughly discussed with our meals (except Paul. He seemed quite satisfied with himself) the girls had the bright idea of ordering cake: one chocolate and one vanilla. Paul ordered vanilla ice cream. My mother and Rachel both took bites of the their cake at the same time. They both looked at each other at the same time. They both slowly shook their heads. Paul was busy slurping down a lump of creamy vanilla. Rachel said, “I think I taste something fishy in my cake. It tastes like the shrimp I just ate.” It was then we noticed a faint red liquid leaking from the bottom of the cake. It smelled like shrimp. “That’s gross.” She said. “I wonder what it is?” Being the smart-ass that I am I replied, “Well it ain’t strawberry sauce.” My guess was that drippings from the shrimp, while in the refrigerator, had dripped down onto the cake. We all stopped eating. Even Paul, but only because he had finished his apparently delicious ice cream.