Surviving

I woke Monday morning feeling as though I contracted the flu. I hate missing classes, so I decided to go, with hope that I would feel better as the day went on. I was wrong. When I arrived home from class, I went straight to bed without lunch. A few hours later, when I still couldn’t move from bed, I knew things could only get worse.

The next morning, due to the worst stomach cramps I have ever experienced, I didn’t make it to class. This went on until Thursday morning, when my “madre” (mother) insisted that I go to the doctor. I reluctantly agreed and we headed to Quintana Street, about a half hour walk from the house.

San Salvador Cathedral

As my madre led me around the city, I couldn’t help but admire the beautiful buildings that surrounded me. We passed the San Salvador Cathedral and a small market area where vendors sold items such as socks, slippers, t-shirts, even food for reduced rates. I told myself that when I felt better I would go back.

After what seemed like hours of walking we reached the clinic on Quintana Street. My madre asked the receptionist if any doctors spoke English, and to my surprise, one did. Not long after arriving the doctor called us in. Unfortunately, his English was worse than my Spanish, so I knew if I wanted him to understand anything; I would have to speak in Spanish.

Or at least try to.

I described my symptoms (terrible cramps, fatigue, others that I’m sure you don’t want to know,) while he nodded his head, attempting to understand me. He then brought me to an examining table, and after he poked around and listened to my stomach, he told me he thought I had a gastrointestinal problem. This usually occurs from ones diet. Without getting into the dirty details, it basically meant that I needed to stick to a strict diet that consisted of mostly bread and rice. All the while I suffered through severe stomach pains during the day and into the night.

I felt determined later in the week to go out, despite the throbbing that continued to sporadically torment me. I walked up calle mon with my friends and watched as they drank beer in the plaza del sol-an open area where groups of drunken party-goers guzzle alcohol in between bar hopping. I tried to join in their banter, but it wasn’t long before my stomach began to feel worse and I headed home, disappointed that my second weekend in Oviedo turned out to be a letdown.

Thankfully, by the end of the weekend my stomach settled down, and I began to eat normal food again. This time when I went to bed on Sunday I was reluctant that I would make it to class on Monday. However, when my alarm jolted me from my slumber that following morning, I rose from bed feeling almost back to new. Gracias a Dios (thank god), I thought as I got ready and headed to class.