The Sting of the Scorpion

That would be Robert...  He and our village neighbor from across the road took off one shiny new morning for a distant, remote wild and woodsy area from which Robert purchases, fells, and slices select trees into usable planks.  This time, he is collecting wood for a new shower door, for instance...

...only this time he neglected to wear thick leather gloves.

The scorpion lashed out fiercely (Robert never saw it amid the woodchips and dust after the log fell).  The stinger slashed open a blood vessel in his finger, and thus injected the poison directly into Robert´s bloodstream...  a potentially lethal situation.  Having been struck before, Robert could recognize the increased severity of this strike...  left arm, closest to his heart, the venom causing numbness and paralysis, far more pain...  Those kinds of thoughts.

Immediately, his companion helped Robert to load the large, heavy, bulky machines into his car, and got Robert back home, and situated on the porch amid the tools.  Then he left Robert there.  Robert had assured him that we have on hand "Epi-pen" which is a self-injectable antidote.  Alas, this time the Epi-pen had almost no effect on the venom now in his bloodstream.  In great pain, and increasing numbness, Robert laboriously lugged the machines into the house, locked them in, and drove the car himself, down into the river valley, through the river, and over to the beach where I was casually relaxing.  En route, he picked up my friend´s husband who took over the wheel.

My friend, Annie, and I had just emerged soaking wet and grinning from ear-to-ear after an exhaustingly fun plunge-and-crash session of boogying the big shore-surf repeatedly.  We were seated at a table, toes in the sand, facing the sea.  I had between my fingers a chip laden with guacamole -- yes, the food had been set down before us the moment we emerged from the sea.

I heard the unique, child-like toot of our car´s horn.  Odd....

All was full-on action after that.  Annie took care of the  guacamole and chips (oh, and the bill, too).  The cooks ran after us with a huge clove of garlic for Robert to chew and swallow (local remedy for scorpion strikes).  Annie´s husband drove (he speaks better Spanish than I do), and we were on our way to the nearby FREE hospital/clinic -- some half-hour away.

Robert was seen to, given immediate treatment, and then hooked up to an IV to hydrate him.  It helps if he can pee out the poison.  He was there for hours.

Robert is not one to complain of pain -- but when asked, he would comment on the "electric eels" in his extremeties, as well as curious and expanding numbness.  Walking to the bathroom, as he had to from time to time thanks to the dripping IV, was quite arduous for him.  Once the IV bottle was empty, he was released.

For the next two days, he lay comfortably at our home on our portable bed-system laid out on the cement floor of our porch -- woven mat, with a thermarest mattress, pillow, fleece blanket if needed.  And I read to him -- great book -- one we kept interrupting in order to discuss concpets.  He would, if pressed, describe the continuing electric shooting pains, and show where he was completely numb.

This strike, he says, was far more painful, far more dangerous, than the last time he was struck.  Last time, he was struck in muscle, and the Epi-pen worked, and we laid his mat in a cool room, and while he rested, I read to him.

¿And now?  In the aftermath (though his finger is still numb three days later), my advice will hereafter ever be:  "Wear thick leather gloves...  please."

A Mirror Into My Own Childhood

She lives right next door. I´ve mentioned her and her family a lot, and posted photos of them. This little girl whom I have known since she was in utero (there is a long story there, too...) and I share a deep, strong heart bond. She reminds me of me.

What inspires this short essay, however, is what we shared just yesterday.

Little Diana Laura sings. She sings to the trees, the flowers, the dog, the weather, in response to questions. She loves to whirl. She has her own personal connection to nature.... oh, there´s a story in that, too, but never mind.

She sings in the same way I did as a child -- spinning in a circle as flower petals from the tree overhead cascaded down, cruising along an expanse of flowers as the wind played their bobbing blossoms....

Yesterday, when we were both home alone (she is about 5 by now, and I´m slightly older), she spotted me through the fence, and came over. We spent over an hour simply singing to each other about.... whatever. We swung in our respective hammocks, sometimes bumping together, and laughed as we sang about it. We played hide and seek in the netting of our hammocks, and we sang about it. A dog starts barking -- we sing an imagined reason....

When the time came, we sang our goodbyes, filled with laughter and silly postures...

Just this morning.....

The kids seem to know it. They know when I´ve got all the toys back on the shelves -- and they show up -- polite, respectful, and eager. Since I always put everything back in the same location on the various shelves, they quietly find what they want and presto! Our porch is filled with totally absorbed children, each in their own world of creativity.

Jigsaw puzzles (new ones, too!), railroad tracks, Jenga, Mancala -- but most popular by far are paper and drawing utensils. Utterly silent absorption.

Today´s focus, as it often is, was on coloring in various mandala designs. Once completed, each child seeks me out to show it to me, and then hopes that I choose to somehow display it. With all the new magnets I bought, I could display them all, on our metal doors. They each take pride in their own work, standing back to look at its beauty, sometimes pointing, and commenting to each other...

Surf? Oh, that. Robert was up and gone at dawn, and didn´t return til early afternoon, grinning widely. Boogie-boarding? Nada. I´ve just dipped myself in the sea once, but the ocean is oddly cold, and there´s a cool offshore wind as well. Bag it for now.

Village life? How I love this village, esta pueblito con sus gente tranquilo y amable. Just to walk down the central dusty road through the village, and to greet all the neighbors, kids and dogs... to stop and chat awhile... to trade stories....

...and to enjoy walking under the various hues of bougainevillea (bugambilia in Spanish, which is easier to spell), and take in the radiance of the sun as it illuminates the multi-colored leaves of our croton plants...

Ya basta por hoy. Tengo cosas a hacer aqui en Zihua....