That Which Doesn´t Kill

* this entry from 3/19 *
Salvador Clinic, Santiago Chile

Follow the black and yellow line, she says and nods towards a courtyard.
In the company of the Expedition Team and Captain Aimee, we walk in the advised direction.



A thick man slightly hunched over pushes a cart. Inside -- rolls of bread. At a clearing, people are seated in plastic chairs upon a dusty checkered floor. Peeling paint and light blue uniforms.



At the end of the yellow and black line is a small room. A square woman is seated in the corner, the window is open as well as the door. She doesn´t smile. It´s warm inside. Needles in a silver tray, a crumpled table lining, a trash can of exposed, used bandages.

Hell no, I won´t go.



* this entry from 3/23 *
Las Condes Clinic, Santiago Chile

After researching heathcare facilities via the US Embassy, and with the help of a young Chilean Student an appt is made - 14:00 Las Condes Clinic.

3/23, 13:55
A pink magazine with the image of a pigtailed girl smiling with a cast on her foot. Frosted glass & burgundy leather seats, Madonna is heard on surround sound. A man in a white suit passes by, a stethoscope hangs from his neck like jewelry. Cookies are eaten in mouthfuls. Another man in a white suit, stethoscope in pocket.

Last night I dreamt I needed four shots, one consisted of blood. Somehow I got out of taking two of the shots. Afterwards, I was given an enormous blue and raspberry ball of ice cream.

¨Jasmiñe, consulta nueve.¨

A walk past the frosted glass, into an office where a gray-haired man with thin rimmed glasses sits. In English, he recommends vaccines, shows affected areas on maps, informs of the dengue fever outbreak in Bolivia, informs that malarial mosquitoes only bite at night. At the end of his thorough lecture, he gives me a perscription with three innoculations -- thyphoid fever, tetanus, and yellow fever and instructs me to go to the vaccunatorio. My stomach shifts.

*

Snow White, the Lion King, and Pocahantas. Green and orange seats. Plastic wrapped needles, sliver dishes on paper towels. Glimpses of a lady in a blue uniform. She´s preparing concoctions in the dinosaur room. A squirmy feeling pulses in my legs. A foam cow is facing my direction. The Expedition Team nearby.

Another patient has entered the room. Curly blonde hair, he wobbles as he walks. Monkey quickly hides -- it´s one of her natural predators.

¨Jasmiñe.¨

I enter the dinosaur room. The lady, with her blue eyeshadowed eyes, guides me to a chair. She´s holding a silver tray with three needles on it.

These needles are small, for babies, she says. Her voice is soft, like cotton candy.

A moist cotton is rubbed on my left and right arm.

Breathe, she says, pinching my arm. Relax.

A prick and the image of disease ridden molecules entering my bloodstream.

Between shots, she tells me to breathe.

The last shot, yellow fever, she says. Relax.

She then asks weird questions about eggs and mayonaise.

Heart rate up. Yellow fever -- the shot I avoided getting in the states after reading that possible death is a contraindication. My justification -- an uninterest in self-induced deaths. And with this excuse, it was decided to not getting any shots pre-departure. While travelling, I´ve been surveying others, hoping to find enough travellers to validate my descision. Of every ten interviewed, all ten got their shots. This left me with one reasonable decision -- get the shot.

Back to the chair with the lady and her cotton candy voice. She´s talking about eggs and mayo. Before making sense of this, the needle is out of my arm, and she´s putting the silver tray away, introducing me to the dinosaur whose name is Mydinosaur.



ice cream celebration


*

The magic of the human body -- you give it a small dose, prepare it for a potential situation, and immunity is developed. Its the whole ¨what doesn´t kill you makes you stronger¨ philosophy.




... at the moment, cafe Torino
I´ve been eating pina colada flavored halls like candy.