vaga #1/ 11 “the experience”

Iluh returns in the morning after giving the offerings that she carries on the tray to the stone statues of the gods at the hotel,  there are three, and she repeats this at 6 pm. When I accompanied Arumini one morning to take the offerings, she carried coffee, water, rice, a piece of bread and incense. The grains of rice on her forehead and neck that are put on in a different and very careful way, and it means that they have done the morning prayer.

Part XI

On the one hand, it is difficult for me to write this chapter because it is as I had experienced it. I have already said that Vaga #1 is timeless: I speak about my thoughts, anecdotes, humour, and my irreverence, it goes from the past to the future, with the most diverse stories, but today it is “in situ”. I feel that I cannot write Vaga #1 as if nothing had happened to me, and I have resumed my draft of the chapters that I am going to publish. This is the reason my posts have been interrupted for a while.

This is what I experienced, but I really want to write and share what I experienced from the human aspect attached to my situation. Human quality, and I am going to extend myself because it deserves to be told. I cannot divide it into two chapters because they are one, indivisible.

I will summarise what happened to me. I will not go into details, although there are many. Instead, I get to the point and summarise it and without the intention of drama, but at the same time I can not ignore it. I had a stroke along with a complicated urinary tract infection, as the medical report says. On the Friday, I was in the hospital in the capital of Bali, Denpasar, Indonesia. I was in a wonderful place, in a fisherman's cove, away from surfers, divers, and yachts. The town is called Candidasa and is two and a half hours from the capital.  

I was hospitalised for 8 days. The stroke manifested itself a few days before entering the hospital. I had significant disorientation, confusion, not understanding anything, not being able to answer a WhatsApp message because I did not know how to use the phone, walking like a drunk, etc … It was calculated that I had a stroke about 10 days before I was hospitalised. Being hospitalised for disorientation is not the topic, but infection and fever kept me in a state of semi-consciousness for several days, and it led me to admit myself into hospital. If you think about it, it was fortuitous Because I found out about the stroke, which I would never have known about otherwise. Going to the hospital, I told myself that they will take care of me, what a relief, and I collapsed, after 4 days of the previous hell in the hotel. For many days, I did not know where I was, but I did not care. I also had severe dehydration and my blood chemicals were out of normal range and this caused some concern. They had to balance my chemicals in my blood before going in with the antibiotics, and that is why the fever lasted, keeping me semi-unconscious for 4 days. I lived through hell. I saw myself in a deep black hole, dark, with no way out. Losing hope of seeing the light again was the worst of all, losing hope of continuing to live with the happiness that has accompanied me all this time, since I started my new life. I saw myself returning to the dark side of the moon, NO. From living, I knew that I was not at risk of losing my life, but losing hope was the hardest, along with the uncertainty of how much this will cost me, etc. I felt alone, helpless and dumped in the world. I saw the doctor (neurologist) every day, and did not understand anything he was talking about between my fever, hallucinations, and disorientation. Furthermore, I asked myself why he didn't speak English, but I didn't care because I knew they were helping me. ..... coming out of that state and already recovered from the fever, the doctor spoke perfect English. In my black hole, I tried to bring the image of my beautiful hotel, located on the very edge of the sea, into my mind. The most wonderful sea I have ever seen, but the image faded, I could not retain it and that was the loss of hope., Not to see that sea again,  the light was gone. I was recovering weakly, but was more conscious by the fourth day when the antibiotics kicked in.

I lost many photos of this part of my life, due to a hallucination that caused me to erase everything on my cell phone. 

 I don't know if it was a hallucination or a surreal reality. The internist who came to join the medical team on the fourth day I vaguely remember one day a fine afternoon, a man of about 37, with glasses arrived, I vaguely remembered the image of his body as he appeared in the doorway, I was still semi-conscious, I saw a man who entered my room wearing a turban, but it was not a turban, it was a white headscarf with a knot on his forehead, then I saw a tunic, and he was wearing a sarong. He approached me, lowered his head to the level of my pillow fifty centimetres from my head and I saw a face with rice stuck to his forehead, two green leaves behind the ears held on by his glasses, some flowers I that I didn’t recognise…… yes, it was the internist, I'm not hallucinating again. It was real, it was the doctor, between blinks, I saw him as someone seeming to come out of a traditional dance, but sorry, he is a doctor, and then I knew with high-rank PhD and dressed like that, a doctor? NO, IT DIDN'T SIT RIGHT WITH ME, but it doesn't matter I was not in a position to do anything, whatever happens .., but it was not a hallucination, it was real, Mari called him a good Warlock, but I insisted he was a doctor, how could they let him enter the hospital to visit his patients in those clothes with rice on his head, green leaves, flowers. Sarong I DO NOT UNDERSTAND the next day he appeared with pants and a totally normal shirt ……. In addition, as an anecdote, he treated me like the nurses did “Mom, Mom, excuse me, it should have been Mrs Canas or Madam, whatever, but not Mom …… … It creeped me out……… 

this photo is from the moment, if someone guesses what it is email to me.

By the fifth day, I started to speak, and I began to eat and managed to reply to messages on WhatsApp to say where I was that is all, I could do. On the seventh day, I was still recovering physically, and I could barely walk alone with my IV Pole, I opened my luggage without premeditation, totally spontaneously, took out the typical Nepalese scarf that, our guide Gopal gave to me and Rafa, the trekking guide who led us to Everest Base Camp….another long story to tell, and it was three months previously. The Orange scarf with garish colours and tied it to the IV Pole ... ... I went back to bed and saw it ...... and I smiled, I smiled, and I smiled, I hadn’t lost  my spirit, my essence, my mood.  WHO WOULD DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT,   hang a strong coloured handkerchief to the IV pole… … NOBODY……… I was me again, my soul, my joy of living, it would take only time to get better and that was no problem, my spirit remained intact ... and I had turned the corner, ... but the information of the cerebral infarction when I understood what had happened on the fifth day,  I had almost lost my ability to speak. Although the doctor had told me many times, I only came to realise it on the fifth day… …the very term freezes you, and it was not easy to digest. With the EMR, a previous stroke showed up on the scan, and talking with the doctor I realised that the previous year in February I lost a job for not being able to understand the instructions, not being able to hit the keys and the cash in the register. I was so confused with the numbers that I passed them on to Rafa, so that he could take care of my money, due to my disability, I stopped driving because I felt insecure, among other things. I now know what had happened to me, and it gave me tremendous relief, and I shared it with my children, right away, everything that happened to me last year was a stroke, and I was not senile as we had suspected. That was the first stroke, and it lasted 4 months and that was the cause of my inability to function and without knowing why, it put me into a deep depression.



my saving grace that gave me hope and made me smile again, …… and now wherever I am staying I take it out and hang it up. It became my symbol of hope, joy  …… ……. and you will see my last three accommodations within a month… Different No? ………… .thanks Gopal. 

I will finish the topic regarding the stroke, I was put on a blood thinner that is very effective, and the strokes would be unlikely to be repeated, but the important thing is that now I know how to recognise it, and to get myself to a neurologist, at the first sign. I also take medication that helps with my memory. Because the result of the stroke is short-term memory loss, which does not affect me  because of the previous stroke and I managed with many little notes to help me remember things, and I had many tricks to help me cope, so it did not traumatise me. Writing became difficult for me, trying to find the words and repeated phrases, so if something is not written correctly, I ask you to understand why, and take it with tolerance and forgiveness. Added to this is that I have a terrible language corrector and an English keyboard without accents, It has been a nightmare to cut and paste the accents. I will have to work much harder on this subject. My thinking and visual abilities are impeccable. The only bad thing is the   restriction from cigarettes, booze and coffee, everything that I love… …we'll see… … End of topic.

I'll talk about Bali at length. I don't know when, because there are so many countries to talk about, but I will summarise the Balinese, they are proud, and happy, they don't feel Indonesian, they have their own language and writing, with very strong and active roots. Indonesia is full of temples, stone sculptures of their gods every 5 metres inserted into daily life itself, in the city, on the highway, each bridge has at least two sculptures. They are Indus, different from the rest of the country, which is mostly Muslim. And the flowers, the ones that I learned to enjoy and enjoy differently and to integrate them into my daily life. No flowers are lost, at night they fall from the trees and are collected in the morning.  They are put in the hair, men and women, alike, on the beds, towels, in the food plates, in the offerings, as I said before I lost many photos of my bed, with red, purple, lilac flowers decorating the bed. I always put a flower in my hair, or I would have felt naked, haha. But I never managed to keep the flowers in my hair for more than three minutes. I don’t know how they do it.

The underlying theme is that these were my angels, first my personal angel who always accompanied me and took me to that particular hotel, of which there were so many in the area, it was too expensive for my budget, but I do it from time to time to treat myself and to compensate for the basic hostels, I usually stay in. My idea was to stay a week and get back to my hostel routine. Four women in their 20s worked there. Plus the cook who was about 40. At first, we hit it off very well, a lot of laughter, little girls, sharing photos with each other. On the fourth day; I now know, I had my first stroke, I couldn't write messages, my speech became thick, and incomprehensible, so I retired to my bungalow, they began to miss me and began to walk around my bungalow to check on me, I fell and hit myself very badly on the head, I was walking like a drunk, and I became incontinent. I had a fever and a lot of vomiting. The concierge, Novi, on her own initiative, called a family doctor in the area, who gave me anti nausea medication, something for the fever and told me I was disoriented. The penny dropped, I needed a neurologist, and Novi made an hour’s consultation at the hospital that lasted two and a half hours. They gave me an hour’s appointment for two days later. Those days were the most difficult. I had already stopped eating, and Arumini, the cook, told me, she would cook me whatever I want, but please eat. I reluctantly and at her insistence ate mashed potatoes, … Not only that, but I had no strength, she fed me. If there is also humour in the situation, Arumina feeding me and stroking me with affection. I no longer had any pyjamas, or clean panties, I was wearing a dress and “no panties” and when she realised this, the fits of laughter that she went into because of me, as did I… After I got back from the hospital, I would lift my dress to see if I was wearing panties and, giggling again and so on every day. At night, they told me to leave the door open for the night watchman to check on me. They had to change my sheets about 3 times a day, they did it with smiles. They did not leave me alone, there was always someone with me, I had to bathe, they did it, they prepared the water, and they bathed me, they dried me,  AWFUL  Once I had taken care of my mother, and it FELT wrong to see her naked and ill,  but they did it naturally and always with a smile, they had only met me five days beforehand, they improvised pyjamas for me, washed my clothes that had vomit and pee everywhere, and they took over with smiles and jokes. Novi, she started calling me Oma, “grandmother” ... If someone calls me grandmother, "I want to kick them up the bum" HA HA HA but here I take anything. Also, I met her mother and she looked about 35 years old, obviously I became her grandmother. The day came to go to the hospital, and I was lying in bed and Novi and Iluh, the 22-year-old manager of the restaurant, packed my suitcase.

Iluh and Novi

This was a surreal image. The two in the photo above. They put on all my clothes, they changed them, they laughed out loud, all dancing, they found vintage shorts, they made them dance, all to distract me and to quickly pass the time before going to the hospital. They, They, They, what a blessing. And especially laughing and joking at all times. Until the question came, where is your makeup bag? Obviously to continue joking, NO, I DO NOT HAVE, I DO NOT USE MAKE UP, and they were silent. HaHaHa, Novi, put me in a taxi with all my bags and with the order to the taxi driver not to leave me alone until he knew what happened to me. This man was outside the emergency room for two hours, until they admitted me, I had to pay him, WRONG, I had been confused, and I didn't have enough money, in the end he left without being paid. Novi was calling me, I felt the phone ring, but I couldn't answer my phone. She arrived the next day. On her day off, her boyfriend brought her and I managed  to ask her to buy me shampoo, since I had no money I gave her my Mastercard with the pin for the ATM, she didn't want to know the pin. I begged her and, she went and brought me the shampoo and a hair elastic. Her boyfriend, who was about 25 years old, brought me a mango. He fed it to me.  Fruit that I obviously had never seen! PLOP !!! a young man… Novi, called every day, I couldn't always answer. I received a text on Iluh's phone that she would come to see me on Friday, but her visit coincided with my being discharged. Novi arranged to take a day off, and asked her father to come and fetch me.

Upon arriving at the hotel, gardeners and porters ran to greet me with tremendous smiles. Arumini, the cook with tears in her eyes and apologising for not going to the hospital. But she had done all she could at the "Healing Temple '', she prayed for me there, because the temples are for specific things, such as the one for the dead, the community one and so on. I was in tears with the welcome I received.

Novi gave me the medication and if she wasn't there she would call me to remind me to take it. One day I asked for juice, the cook told me "no charge". And they all began to bring me fruit and other fried things that I did not recognise, my refrigerator was always full. Novi, gave me the tip that a pizza for everyone to share would be a good idea, plus I added a milkshake for each one, and they were happy, the gardener was Marni, from East Timor she was shy and did not speak English, she took a picture of her piece of pizza and said Hi to me with a smile, at least 10 times a day. This all happened in my bungalow, it became party central. Arumini's birthday was spent in my bungalow too, I bought her a sarong as a gift, her tears fell with emotion. They kept an eye on me when I went into the sea to swim.

On Arumini's birthday, look at that affectionate kiss !!! What a joy for me !!!, I gave her a sarong (a sarong) my short memory maybe spelled it differently 

I went on to call the place "Paradise" with my guardian angels. Novi accompanied me to the first examination after I had left the hospital (5 hours by car, no highway, it was bumpy) in case I forgot something, she stayed with me, we spent about 5 hours there and her father, who took us, waited outside. Then the immigration office told me that my visa had expired, and the doctor gave me a month's rest and a check-up at the end of it. The idea of settling in "paradise" for the month was wonderful. But it all turned bad, the visa was not extended to me, the pile of papers from the hospital and the neurologist's orders were worthless. I had to pay a huge fine for each day of overstay. Or what I called illegal status, and I had to solve the matter in an embassy. Because they would not let me enter with the visa they give you at the airport, and I had to go back to finish my treatment for the braces. We returned to “Paradise” and I had to leave Indonesia. They threw me out of “Paradise” like Adam and Eve. Originally I was going to Malaysia later, but it wasn’t to be, a new country, new codes, new currency and me with my short memory and my month of rest? NO, NO, I didn't give myself the chance… …so I went to Kathmandu, and I wrote this there, I had already spent 3 months there, and I had a network of friends and a hostel where they adored me. Once I saw the manager crestfallen and asked him what's wrong? There are no tourists… … I answered… AND ME?  You are local he replied …… I arrived in deplorable conditions, and with thousands of stumbles on the trip and here they also took care of me, they even gave me money to buy some food, as I didn't have the strength to go to an ATM.

Well, this is the story of the human quality found, never experienced by me before, giving, helping in a serious situation, in a constant way, not for a little while, or getting rid of the problem woman, I never felt that at all. and  not for monetary gain ever. I get a lump in my throat and tears fall from excitement and gratitude when I try to thank Novi until now as I write this story I still feel the same emotion, a lump in my throat and my tears still fall.

MY GUARDIAN ANGELS Marni, Arumini, Iluh, the super Novi, the one who writes and Asis

mail: pequecanas@gmail.com