DOCTOR Fitzsimmons?!

Today was my first day in Guatemala City, Guatemala- SO many people to inform, SO much information, so I decided (credit goes to Libby) that starting my first blog was the best was to keep everyone in the know and the perfect outlet to talk about myself (now that I'm not in Theatre I still need to nurture the narcissist in me, don't judge OK?)
I arrived last night at 11pm with the buzz from the night before, I wasn't ready to take off my home-made "YES WE CAN" glitter/glue tee-shirt until this morning. This is the first time I have arrived in a foreign country genuinely proud to tell people that I am from the U.S, as simple a feeling as that may sound it is inexplicably relieving.
All of that aside, I traveled for 13 hours with the feeling that I had made an awful mistake booking a 7 wk trip. All I could think about was how much fun I was having at home (for the 1st time in 4 yrs), how lovely my comfortable routines had become and how much I would miss out on with my girls. I guess whenever I get these feelings of fear I need to remind myself that they're symptoms of stagnancy and I must move on or my brain will go into cruise control and I'll stop learning. My most realistic fear was that I would be bored because we wouldn't have any ibo patients scheduled.
As I walked out of baggage claim and into the lobby of the aeropuerto I felt a wave of anxiety as throngs of Guatemalans eyed me and desperately yelled TAXI!?!? at me. My first thought was that Dr. Francisco Roberto Lopez Martinez (yeah.. not exaggerating) would never find me and I'd be either seriously fucked for 7 wks or going to home to a lot of unsaid "told you so's". I see my name written on a home-made placard (just like I always kind of hope I see when I get off a plane, even if I know my ride is parked outside, still I always desire seeing someone holding my name and searching for potential Me's among the crowd) the Doc had come through-step one accomplished. Middle aged, very accommodating and quickly familiar to me-he's the kind of person who everyone that meets him says that.
We rush to the hospital on a call about a woman with heart trouble that he received while waiting for me. The weather feels like late spring/early fall-that warm mixed with wind. I love it.
Through his thick accent he says "juhWelcome to Guatemala, ready for de hospital!?" and laughs heavily at his first of MANY self-amusing jokes that night. He is one of only a few doctors in Guatemala City (which mind you has by far the best med. treatment in the country) so aside from his own work with addiction therapy he's on call at the hospital. I feel that anxiety again as I see the nurses give me the once over glance and greet me. Although I know damn well how to say "Buenos noches" I freeze, just smile and recoil into THAT mute white girl. I sat near the nurses in the lobby for an hour and a half and it felt like 10 mins. I had SO many stimulants to process. The doc tried to get me involved, brought out a copy of her scribbly heart palpitation report-thing (which is the correct medical term) and explained what it meant and what her symptoms were. He had diagnosed her in the car on the way there, telling me he had a feeling it was a panic attack, sure enough it was. I watched as he filled out paper work and made all the disgruntled and tired nurses laugh.
Almost 1 am, we went to a 24 hr. "American themed" diner, which needless to say was an adorable attempt on their part. We talked for a while about our intentions with Ibogaine, addiction therapy etc..
He lives in the home he grew up in, inside a gated community which makes me feel tons safer(gotta tell mom). I got set up in an adorable little yellow room that is now home and was surprisingly given my first bit of unofficial homework- 2 chapters out of "Understanding Human Behavior in Health and Illness" giant medical text book. But passed out in my clothes as soon as I got in.
When I woke up I had that awkward this-isn't-my-house- shower and came out to a traditional Central American breakfast: black beans, eggs and tortillas. Luckily meat is a privilege that I have yet to come across. I ate with the Doc and Santos, who (I think?) is kind of a help/friend that lives with the doc, I've only seen him fix things so that's the conclusion I've drawn. He's very quiet and I wish desperately that I didn't have to alienate him by speaking English with the doc.
Before we finish our food we are down to business. Because the first batch of Ibogaine hasn't arrived, there is a medical conference this Saturday that we are going to present at about ibogaine. We're stapling his biz cards to the fliers that we just designed as he tells me more about the way he runs his of PAW (Post Acute Withdrawal syndrome) treatments pre-ibogaine.
We drop the fliers to the office that is running the conference, and I get to see the city for the first time. Bright colors everywhere, dangerous, congested and polluted. The buildings are a collage of ornate ancient churches and palaces among dilapidated and half finished crumbles of buildings and more coca-cola advertisements than I've seen in my life combined. The way that people drive is exactly like what I laughed about while reading in the lonely planet guide: "with absolutely no regard for life-their own or anyone else's". Dodging the traffic were clowns juggling at the cars for a donation, a teenager lighting a motor oil bottle on fire for...?
At home we toured the office where he does his treatments, which is a whole floor upstairs. Since we have nothing but time until the ibo comes he wants me to have a better understanding of what kinds of addiction treatment is available in Guatemala, so we'll tour the different rehabs and I'll pose as Dr.Fitzsimmons-a recent med school grad from New York doing a study on Central American addiction therapy...I love it, what else did I get a theater degree for?
We arrive at the first and what is said to be the greatest rehab house in the country. Dr. Lopez is a recovering alcoholic so he's been treated at a few and through his field of work has a relationship with most of the docs at the centers. In my hoodie and skirt I'm certainly not dressed for the part and immediately feel like a phony when I meet the doctor, I'm so intimidated that I don't speak for the first hour as Dr. Lopez is having a ball asking Dr. Fitzsimmons her impressions of the center from a medical point of view, luckily no one else speaks English. After we tour the center- which looks like a church basement with a bunch of mismatched donated furniture that is probably vintage, not on purpose- The Dr. that runs the center asked Dr. Fitzsimmons (with Dr.Lopez's translation) "if she would like to interview the patients." UHHH No! No she would not, she would like to get the fuck out and play on face book, but I don't say that of course I just smile and nod. Out in the garden 2 older men in bath robes that look scared of me (maybe as much as I was of them) are sitting. I knew they didn't speak a word of English and even IF I spoke Spanish I was too intimidated to say anything to them. Dr. Lopez gave Dr. Fitzsimmons a long introduction in Spanish to them, god only knows what it contained but just from listening I sounded pretty fucking qualified. Then gave me the floor for an interview...ummm......donde esta? Dr. Lopez took over for the first part and and we talked for a while about their alcohol addictions, this center and other center's heinous conditions. Somehow through hand movements, Spanglish and little translations I was able to communicate extremely well with these men. Louise the 55 yr old told me that he had been to multiple rehab centers that were in terrible conditions, in the worst he would be punished by being put in a cage with no water and a hole to shit in, now this is a rehab center that he PAID to get treatment at. Other than that there was only the church and 12 steps, which aren't much different. The other patient Carmaneta who's 44 agreed with Louise that this is by far the best treatment house. By the end of our convo they begged us to stay for dinner. Over more black beans, tortillas and plantains (I'm still loving it) we talked for another 2 hours about Obama, what I need to see in Guat, Carmaneta's 4 yrs in LA. They told me I had sangre dulce-sweet blood and that I had really helped them with this visit, I left hugging them and speaking 30% more Spanish. It was really incredible.
The doc and I got home late and he told me that if I was going to pose as a doc again tomorrow he needed to school me. We went through hours of his power point slides (all in Spanish) as he schooled me in neurological functions and how the brain reacts to addiction and PAW treatment. he translated EVERY slide and explained them with long anecdotes to help me understand, although he was def. losing me a lot of the time with the brain receptor functions and all, he had me laughing half the time to get through it.
My brain is so full of information, it could pop. This is fucking awesome.