I arrive in Dakar, Senegal after 16 hours of travel. The thick humid air smacks me as I step off of the plane. It's intense for 7:00 am but it feels good after 8 hours of stale airconditioned plane air. We board a bus that takes us from the tarmac to the airport. I look around as everyone gathers their family children and tries to keep them together as they board the bus. Drowsy and disoriented, I look around to find my people and realize I am alone. I'm interested in everyone's colorful clothes and the way the women wear their hair. I try not to stare long enough to get caught.
We get to the airport and everyone races off, I follow unsure of the reason for the rush. They all push to one area, I still cannot see what it is they're after. Confused, I'm frustrated that I dont know the words in French ask anyone. I just dive in with everyone else. Oh, customs papers. I get in line as I fill it out.
I get to the baggage terminal and it starts. I am a peice of sandwhich thrown to the hords of seagulls. The airport attendents flock to me offering carts and help and friendship and anything else they can think of. I just walk and wave them off "no gracias"...wait that's espanol. I'm tired. I stand next to the baggage carousel and wait, and wait. Not seeing my bags. An attendent comes up to me. "No, I'm ok" I quickly say, "Well I'm ok too!" he responds in perfect english. I feel soothed by the familiar words so I let him help me. We chat as the bags pass by. Eventually he begins checking the tags and dossnt see my name. "They're lost, probably to Johannasburg. Here, come to the office with me." I'm annoyed by his complacent tone and I'm not sure if he's scamming me somehow. Although no one else is at the carousel anymore so.. I follow him. There are about 5 other locals standing in the lost baggage line- ok looks like this does happen all the time. We wait. It's hot. I'm wearing a turtle neck, long yoga pants and sneakers with double socks. Fuck. So this is how it's going to be...well it wouldnt be the first time I've been in a strange, hot place in the wrong clothes. As I wait in line I ponder this and remember Australia and Sayulita. Two of my best trips began like this, so I decide this is a good omen for what's to come.
I finally get into the crumbling concrete office. The officer asks me for my phone number. "I dont have one here" he asks for the number of the people I'm staying with. I realize it's on a peice of paper folded up in my luggage. "Um I dont know". My attendent says "You dont know their number? So what if you get outside and they are not there, then what?" A shiver washes over me at the thought. Now I'm set on getting outside as soon as possible to prove him wrong. I leave the office, and tip the boy with money of which I have no idea the value-but whatever it is it is not enough. I dont believe him. I thank him and walk away. I make my way to the exit and feel sick with the tought the attendant implanted in my head.
The moment I step outside I see my name on a sign-spelled comepletely wrong. Ah, here is my new family. Abdoulaye stands with a tranquil, pearly smile and I run to him. "Hi! I'm Christine". "I know" he says and points to my name on his sign. He speaks English! "I Abdoulaye. Come, give me your five" I realize he means hand and we cross the busy street to a taxi. I apologize for the delay. My plane was 2 hours late. He says "Is ok. I here since 5:00" He has been waiting outside for 3 hours. I dont even know what to say. "I'm so sorry." He laughs and says "it no problem."
The taxi ride into the city from the airport was sort of like a feel-good movie scene of when someone gets into a foreign place. wind whipping, cows passing, an uptempo africa beat singing from the speakers . I'm mezmerized. Sheep, colors, shacks and tons of people everywhere. I've heard Dakar is the Paris of West Africa. Well I've never been to Paris but...Wow this is not what I expected. If this is the biggest, most international city in West Africa than what do the slums look like? I wonder. "Take breakfast?" Abdoulaye asks. "YES!" I am starving but paralyzed by the unfarmiliar and already came to the conclusion that I would starve before trying to figure out how to obtain food-and what that food might be. He has the taxi driver stop at a broucherie- a very French looking bakery. I get out and look at the rows of different croissants and other breaded things that I dont recognize. "I uhh dont eat meat" I apologetically and reluctantly say. Abdoulaye looks at me with wide eyes. "You no eat meat?!" I shake my head. He furrows his brow as if to figure this out. "Poisson?" I shake my head yes, although I dont eat fish, its better than trying to have him accomodate me, which may be impossible. We get a fish quiche and croissant. I can choke this down. walking to the taxi several children run to me with out streched hands, Abdoualye swats them away like flies and opens the taxi door for me. I get this strange, removed feeling like I'm princess Di visiting an impovershed villiage. And I dont like it.
We fly between cars and horses and I thank God for my life when we get to Abdoulaye's mom's house.
We are received by at least 8 children that run up and want to shake my hand, the girls do a little curtsey when our hands meet. I look around and try not to judge the ambiance. Bare concrete walls crumble and the floors are covered in dust. It's Africa, what I wanted- remember? He leads me upstairs and I meet his mom, she is dressed in a beautifully bright colored dress with a matching head wrap. Her eyes are black with a bluish-gray ring around the iris. She kisses me on both cheeks and speaks in Wolof (the native language before French) very quickly as if we were old freinds and she had so much to tell me. I smile and shrug my shoulders. Ablaye explains that I'm not getting it. I meet his dad who is reading the Quoran in Arabic. I meet the 5 other siblings and their 8 children. Then they lead me to a bedroom and tell me to sleep. I think there's no way I can sleep now. children are screaming and many little feet and slapping against the floor but I soon drift off for I dont know how long. When I awake they ask if I'd like a shower. The sibling Maymuna that speaks the best English, explains the protocol. It's just a tile room with a spicket and a toilet (no plastic seat or paper might I add). There isnt a shower head so you basically dump water from a bucket onto yourself with a smaller cup. I'm skeeved by the proximity of the sketchy toilet to my bare feet but I tell myself "I need to be braver than this" (in the words of Michelle).
Afterwards I sit on the balcony- the only place I can get some relief from the heat, the house is open air and there is a balcony right off of the living area. Abdoulaye's neices The 2 little girls Yassil who is just learning to walk and her sister Fahadima who is maybe 4 play with me like a new toy. They are the cutest and its easy to communicate with them, we dont need words. I'm sure the 4 yr old thinks I am slow, she keeps speaking to me and I still havnet learned the words for "no habla frances" in french. The girls take a nap and I sit at the balcony and stare at the people in the red sandy street for hours, maybe 3. I flip through my french dictionary at times but mostly just focus on the colors and sights of the beautiful, elegent, tall women in their fitted hand made gowns of the most beautiful African fabric with bright colors and strange shapes and patterns. some are dressed like westerners, some wear traditional muslim head scarfs. I dont think I've sat this long doing nothing in the last two years. Ably's Mama comes out to sit with me. she brings her prayer rug and indicates that she has a bad kneee so she does them from her chair. At the same time I can see store workers come out on the streets and kneel over in prayer. When she is done we try to speak but everything is met with that blank stare and shrug from the recipient. Every time we try to say something she calls to one of the kids from downstairs who has to come up and translate, after the 3rd trip upstairs we both give up and just sit together in silence. We laugh together at Yassil bouncing off the walls. Brightly colored birds fly back and forth in front of us, occasionally landing on the balcony. I gasp and point at them but realize this is nothing special to her. I watch the sun completely set. I cant remember the last time I did this. It's beautiful but makes things appear even more confused and strange to me as there are no street lights. Mama sends one of the young boys out to pick us up some fire roasted peanuts which are sold on the streets everywhere and wrapped in newspaper. We share them in silence. A nice silence.
Abdoulaye comes from the market with a bag for me. In it is a bright indigo tie dyed tank top, a hot orange tie died sarong and flip flops. I'm so happy I could cry. I get out of my sticky wet New York clothes and into my new senegalese duds and think about how crazy it is that I dont need to speak a word of French or Wolof to ask for what I need because every possible need has been attended to without being expressed.
Dinner time is a trip. The food is served on one big round silver plate and we all share from it. You make a ball of the food with your fist and put it in your mouth. But only the right hand, the left is dirty (butt wiping I suppose? I never asked) I have to sit on my left hand in order to remember not to use it. And so far (4 days into the trip) its been fish, fish fish and baguettes served 3 times a day. no napkins either. They arent needed though if you can do it correctly..when I eat they give me a bib. They push the biggest peices of fish toward me and pick out the vegetable and push them towad me. Its a nice way to eat, sharing with everyone. I'm nauseated by the fish. It's a full on fish- head, tail, bones and all. I take small bites and spit out bits of spinous processes and vertebrae, meanwhile the iridecent silver eye on the fish head stares me down. Michelle's voice comes in- I have to be braver than this. They all demand "cRIIIStine Mange mange!!" as they push more bagguete and poisson toward me. After much effort to be brave on my part and everyone else's attempt to feed me like a pig being fattened for slaughter, the white flag is raised and we call a truce with desert. For Desert: they ask me what my favorite soda is- I respond water, they say "Noo! Fanta?" and go downstairs to buy a bottle- which in this house is orange gold. Then they bring out a plate of sliced orange and apple and we sip fanta. I ask Maymuna how to say "It was very good" in Wolof- "nechk na", when this comes out of my mouth they all keel over in loud echoing laughter, and then ask me to say it again. Little did I realize then, this will be the basis of most all jokes which are made-"cRIIStine say Jholejof" "ok, Jolly Joff" and contageous hysterical laughter ensues. Before we walk into a room of people, "cRIIStine when we go in say Nagadjef"- it has yet to get old.
After dinner we walk to Ably's house. This is where I'll be staying while I'm here, so I'm anxious to see it. To get there though we have to walk through the downtown Dakar market place, times square of West Africa, if you will. This means a cluster fuck of sheep, humans, garbage, smog and devastating poverty. It was...a lot of things, terrifying being one of them, but all of my senses were so excited by all the strange stimulants that I didnt mind. All the while Ably is sheilding me from the many close calls of buses and crowds coming at us and keeps saying "geeeve me you five" and he takes my hand through the chaos.
The scenery changes as we walk on. Paved roads turn into red dust covered paths, market booths turn into half constructed homes. It quiets down, trees appear and Ably tells me "This is Ann, home" (or Hann as it's written, but pronounce the H and no one will stop laughing). We weave around piles of cement and rocks from the never ending construction on the red sandy ground. Paradise it is compared to the market. It's still and we can see the stars. We get into Ably and his wife Ami's house. Ami greets us at the door. She is soft spoken, tall, thin and beautiful. "Bonsoir cRIIStine" she almost whispers. And as I have been instructed by Abdoulaye on the walk home I respond "Nagadjef Ami" and she lets out a huge wail of long laughter and almost falls over catching her breath. Gets 'em every time.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Saturday, December 20, 2008
I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work
By this afternoon the doc agreed to increase the dose. I recommended we make a 2mg per kilo booster that he takes after the liquid mixture (6mg). We made the pill and got ready to go. By the time we were on our way out his aunt got home. She couldn’t understand why he needed to do a second dose, begged us not to go and cursed him for plaguing her with worries. Later we were laughing that if she couldn’t find someone to plague her with worry she would find it in Lady or the Michi the cat, which she does. I tried my best to make sense of it to her but there was no getting through. Finally I just promised to take care of him.
So today we’re playing pioneers trying this liquid mixture of Ibo and mineral free water, at least were the first to try it that we know of. He’s hypothesizing that the ibo will be absorbed quicker so that he wont have to wait the first hour or two before he begins to feel the effects. I’m not so sure it will be any different, but I’m excited to experiment.
We decided to start this one a bit later in hopes that the noise from outside will have calmed. We turned off the fish tank filter and doc talks to Jessie about being more sensitive to the noise. This time she’s sans the baby, but brought her 11year old son Francisco. He’s painfully shy and probably the most quiet out of us all. I can’t imagine how bored he must be, so I gave him my laptop and showed him windows paint, it’s not the Internet but it’s something.
Jessie takes his vital signs again and we begin around 7pm. We being recording the process on the camera as he snakes a small tube down his throat so he doesn’t have to taste the bitterness of the ibo. I inject the 20ml of liquid into the tube which contains 6mgs per kilo. A half hour later he takes the booster. Jessie and I start a movie on mute for Francisco.
We check on him an hour later, an hour and a half since we started. Still no reaction besides seeing trails. He says he’s afraid the liquid didn’t work, that it compromised the ibo somehow and is upset that he’s wasted it. I tell him to relax and see what happens, it hasn’t even been two hours.
Hour 3 Jessie and I watch him from the cameras. He’s perfectly still so I assume he’s finally slipped into it. A half hour later we hear a movement in the room and get up to check. He’s gone into the bathroom on his own. My first reaction is slight panic but once he hears us he calls out “Esta bien” Everything’s fine. He has no reaction to it whatsoever besides a slight wobbly feeling and some trails. He doesn’t remember having any visions. I can tell he’s disappointed. We sit for a long time and try to figure out if it had been altered by the water and why that would affect it. He’s frustrated. “I should just used it like de Bwiti have been for thousands of years, why did I question it?” I somewhat agree but say “This is just an experiment, remember that Thomas Edison quote you told me a while ago 'I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.' At least we learned something, now we know the answer to this, even if it isn’t the one you wanted.” He nods “We must try again tomorrow with the pills. Ok Dr. Fitzsimmons, lets go home”. I don’t care how good he feels the thought of operating a car with Ibo in your system scares the hell out of me so I convince him to wait until he feels more stable, at least another hour or two. By that time he’s fallen asleep. Tomorrow it is.
So today we’re playing pioneers trying this liquid mixture of Ibo and mineral free water, at least were the first to try it that we know of. He’s hypothesizing that the ibo will be absorbed quicker so that he wont have to wait the first hour or two before he begins to feel the effects. I’m not so sure it will be any different, but I’m excited to experiment.
We decided to start this one a bit later in hopes that the noise from outside will have calmed. We turned off the fish tank filter and doc talks to Jessie about being more sensitive to the noise. This time she’s sans the baby, but brought her 11year old son Francisco. He’s painfully shy and probably the most quiet out of us all. I can’t imagine how bored he must be, so I gave him my laptop and showed him windows paint, it’s not the Internet but it’s something.
Jessie takes his vital signs again and we begin around 7pm. We being recording the process on the camera as he snakes a small tube down his throat so he doesn’t have to taste the bitterness of the ibo. I inject the 20ml of liquid into the tube which contains 6mgs per kilo. A half hour later he takes the booster. Jessie and I start a movie on mute for Francisco.
We check on him an hour later, an hour and a half since we started. Still no reaction besides seeing trails. He says he’s afraid the liquid didn’t work, that it compromised the ibo somehow and is upset that he’s wasted it. I tell him to relax and see what happens, it hasn’t even been two hours.
Hour 3 Jessie and I watch him from the cameras. He’s perfectly still so I assume he’s finally slipped into it. A half hour later we hear a movement in the room and get up to check. He’s gone into the bathroom on his own. My first reaction is slight panic but once he hears us he calls out “Esta bien” Everything’s fine. He has no reaction to it whatsoever besides a slight wobbly feeling and some trails. He doesn’t remember having any visions. I can tell he’s disappointed. We sit for a long time and try to figure out if it had been altered by the water and why that would affect it. He’s frustrated. “I should just used it like de Bwiti have been for thousands of years, why did I question it?” I somewhat agree but say “This is just an experiment, remember that Thomas Edison quote you told me a while ago 'I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.' At least we learned something, now we know the answer to this, even if it isn’t the one you wanted.” He nods “We must try again tomorrow with the pills. Ok Dr. Fitzsimmons, lets go home”. I don’t care how good he feels the thought of operating a car with Ibo in your system scares the hell out of me so I convince him to wait until he feels more stable, at least another hour or two. By that time he’s fallen asleep. Tomorrow it is.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
At Least for Today
Well well well, I've fallen far behind in my writing after I left for my trip but it's a good indication of how busy I've been with the many small miracles that have recently occurred.
Although I have much to say about my trip around this beautiful country it will have to wait for a later post because I must write about last night while it is still fresh. Yesterday I finally administered the doctor's Ibogaine treatment and wrote the following throughout the night:
So here I am on hour 2.5 of the session, the doc is stable and hopefully approaching the visionary stage.
The day went pretty much how I expected, things popped up and delayed us 3 hours but I’m just so happy to be at this point, I was starting to believe the session would never happen. We put the medicine into capsules this morning and used the scale for the first time. It was a pretty hilarious trial by error session as we clumsily tried to get the powder into the tiny capsules without spilling any using these fancy little steel and crystal instruments. We tried about 10 different methods and tools until we found one that wasted the least ibo. The pills we bought are too small and wouldn't fit any more than 0.110 milligrams-we needed 436 milligrams for his 1st session which equals about 6mgs per kilo. So we first made a 100 mg allergy testing pill, and 4 other pills for the rest of the dose. He is doing 12mgrams per kilo in total split between tonight and Friday night. 6mgrams is pretty low for someone of his weight and experience with substance abuse. I did 6.5 my first session and had my head blown off so it's always relative.
Next we made the mixture for Fridays session. The doc had an idea a few weeks back to administer ibo in a liquid form. I’m not exactly sure what the benefits are but he thinks it might get into the blood stream faster which will speed up the process, or if someone has a problem swallowing pills, like a few of his patients do, this could be an alternative. Time will tell what the differences are. We got mineral free water from the lab and put 436mg into 20ml of the water, mixed and put into a dropper for Fridays session.
We’re aiming for a 4pm start so he begins fasting at 10am and I advise him to stop drinking liquids at 12pm. I catch him sneak a can of tomato juice around 3pm, we’ll see which end it comes out later.
During our process a young woman came to the house with a new born baby. I figured she was a friend here to show off her 20 day old baby girl. We kept working and about an hour later the doc mentioned that Jessie is a nurse and will be helping us with the treatment. OK, so I won’t be alone like I thought, which isn’t a bad thing but I'd liked to have known this. The baby is adorable and has yet to be named, she still cant decide on one that everyone in the family agrees with. Jessie is very sweet, 31 but doesn’t look a day over 25 and speaks no English whatsoever (which is good, I need the push). I guess he figured I wasn’t ready to be prodding him with IV catheters or in the chance of an emergency resuscitate him, which I’m ok with, I wasn’t completely either.
I then realize that the baby is coming with us and will be here the entire time. Ok, not such a good idea. If there were a top ten list of worst things to be present at an ibogaine session I would put a new born baby at number 4 behind a monster truck race, an air show and a group of howler monkeys. Eh, whatever I guess we’ll make it work (that’s been my motto for the last 2 months). I’m just slightly annoyed that he never mentioned it to me.
An hour after we were supposed to have started treatment we are still at home. Another surprise visit from Mynor for….I’m not sure what, packing food, clothes and necessities and finally we’re ready. We get to the treatment house at 5pm and are met by Sergio and his wife. They are here to interview us before the session at the doctor’s request. Ok, another thing which is sprung upon last minute. They interview us for an hour meanwhile 2 of the doctors that are waiting by the phone to assist me call to check on us. I inform them that as expected we are behind schedule and promise to update them when we start.
Sergio and his wife leave as we begin. The dr. wants to record his session so he sets up the tripod in the room. He keeps a notebook on the bed for writing and a voice recorder. I tried to explain that I think it should be more of an internal process but he insisted that he wanted as much information recorded as possible. As expected none of these things were utilized, except a few messages into the voice recorder that were pretty much garbled nonsense within hour 2.
He took the allergy test pill at 5:55pm. Jessie took a quick physical checkup and inserted the needle for the I.V. catheter port in his wrist. I couldn’t think of anything more uncomfortable to have on during an Ibo session but he insisted that he wanted it in the case of an emergency. I think the difference between our point of view is that the more medical the session the less comfortable I'd feel, where he feels the opposite, the less medically monitored the more uncomfortable he feels.
The 4 pills with the full dose are taken exactly a half hour later at 6:25pm, which is the exact time that the baby (whose been an angel the last 4 hours) decides its time to sound off and let the world know how hard it is to be alive via her vocal cords. I rock the baby as Jessie finishes her check up. I’m a sucker for her and am slightly more interested in the baby’s needs than the doctors. I always feel like I’m playing house when I hold a baby and imagine for the time being that she’s mine, sick I know. But after more than a half hour of tending to her she reminds me how selfish I am and how far off the reality of a baby is to me.
He wants us to leave the lights on and stay with him for a while. Within the first hour he has almost no symptoms. He feels slightly tired and his auditory senses are elevated. He complains of how loud the fish tank filter in the living room sounds from his room. I suggest he be alone to try and take in what he’s feeling .
A half hour later we check again its been an hour and a half since the full dose and now I can notice the changes, he still insists he feels fine but hears a buzzing in his ears. He needs to use the bathroom and as he sits up the weight of the medicine hits him hard and he has trouble moving. I walk him to the bathroom and try to sooth him by telling him its all normal and to be expected. He wants Jessie and I to stay and talk to him but he can no longer remember English and keeps forgetting Jessie’s name. He keeps saying half sentences and then laughing hysterically, we laugh along with him and he curses me “DR. FITZSIMMONS hijo de la gran puta you put me in this state” and then laughs uncontrollably at himself. It's relieving to see that he's laughing so much, so the visions and his thoughts must not be too terribly uncomfortable, but I'm a little nervous that he can no longer understand English, just in case he needs to communicate an emergency or anything with me.
He wants to speak with Dr. Tercero to assure him everything is alright, so I call him and the doc makes absolutely no sense on the phone and abruptly hangs up. I have to call back to assure him everything is cool. We stay for a while and humor him but eventually I try to convince him to be alone to feel the medicine work. He agrees but has to get up to pee again. This trip is much harder than the last it takes many attempts to get on his feet and both me and Jessie to get him to the toilet. He wobbles back and forth as he stands, giggles to himself and asks us where the loud (nonexistent) music is coming from. I don’t want to freak him out so I say that I can hear it slightly but his senses are probably more elevated than mine right now. Back in bed he can hardly manage words so we leave him.
Jessie and I eat dinner together and try to quiet the baby. She's very sweet and helpful with the medical side of things but the truth is she knows nothing about Ibogaine and how sensitive the treatment process is. She is speaking full volume, answering her cell phone and wants to put on a movie. It’s hard to understand how extremely vulnerable a patient’s senses are during this time if they haven’t been there themselves. The creek of a door opening can sound like a tree crashing right next to you. I can’t blame her because she was thrown into this probably yesterday with no knowledge of it, but I’m really annoyed with the doc for not schooling her in the basics or at least telling me about it. I have trouble telling her to quiet down due to the language barrier but she gets me, the baby however does not. Although I may be looking at this situation as flawed I know we are all here at the same time to create his session together for a specific reason, even if it may be disturbing to him, it all has a reason. We collectively make up his experience.
The noise in this place is unreal which I've never noticed until now. The airport is nearby so low flying planes scream their way over us, the traffic outside his window is so loud it vibrates and because there is little furniture, every room echoes like a ghost house. Not to mention the little angel screaming at the top of her lungs. I can’t help but cringe with worry at every little noise on his behalf, but doc hasn’t complained about any of it yet, I don’t know if it’s because he can’t get the words out or he’s content in his waking dreams.
Hour 3- Jessie’s phone rings. She answers it and walks carelessly into doc’s room, speaks full volume in Spanish and hands him the phone. It’s his aunt checking up on him. UHHHH not a good idea to hand someone 3 hrs into an ibo treatment a phone with a paranoid, worry wart family member on the other line asking if everything is alright. I rush in the room and see him take the phone as he can barely open his eyes. I’m impressed by the fact that he can get through the brief conversation. Ok no more interruptions for a while!
Hour 4- things have finally quieted down a bit, the baby is up and down from sleep but at least done howling and we’re seated in the living room, me typing away and Jessie watching The Last Samurai on mute with subtitles. I haven’t checked doc because I figured he needed some time. From the cameras I could see that he’s still moving quite a bit in the bed, I did too in my first treatment, it was horribly uncomfortable. I’m hoping it’s not too rough for him as he’s approaching the peak.
Hour 5-Jessie and I crack the door of the doc’s room to check on him. He looks at us and says “come one in, sit with me” completely coherent. It’s the strangest thing. He is sitting up talking with us completely animated and full of jokes as he always is. He says he feels no symptoms at all besides seeing trails which follow anything that moves and slight numbness of the body. He chugs his whole Gatorade and I get him water and a banana. I’m slightly nervous about him eating, I’m not sure if he has peaked already and is on his way down or if it’s yet to come. He’s sure that he’s past the peak and is even making sense of some of the things he saw in his waking dreams and explaining them to me, Jessie, the voice recorder and the camera. He also is having nicotine cravings, which I think is strange because Ibo is said to lessen if not stop withdrawals once the visions begin. However I think what happened is that he didn’t take enough ibo for his body weight and his tolerance to substances and his body quickly metabolized the medicine which ended the session in only 5 hours.
He only took 6 mgs, where if he were an addict he might have done around 20. I urged him to do at least 15 between the 2 sessions but he kept saying he didn’t want to waste the Ibo, he now admits it was because of fear.
I know it’s silly but I feel slightly disappointed that he had such a casual experience, I think we defiantly should have had a booster pill on hand of at least 2mgs. Although I believe that every Ibo experience goes exactly the way it was meant to, I guess we can take this as the introduction. Maybe I can convince him to take more on Friday to get to a break through point, we’ll see.
The hardly slept that night. Partly because I was anxious to hear how he's doing and partly because I was worried about him. He slept until about 3pm, which is pretty normal, Ibo can be exhausting. When he awoke he burst out of the room looking surprisingly refreshed "DOCTOR FITZSIMMONS!" he announced as he hugged me "I FEEL GREAT!" I listened to his experiences for the rest of the day.
From his point of view the session was extremely successful. By no means did he enjoy it but he was on a high from how much he'd received from it. He was incredibly terrified by the sensations he felt physically and when he looked at Jessie and I he could see the veins in our skin as if we were pale corpses. He also had a bit of a paranoid phase where he saw this elaborate plan that panned out perfectly in which Jessie and I were hired to kill him. Despite all of these living nightmares he was able to laugh at them. He said the absurdity of it all made him laugh hysterically, which showed him that fear is simply created.
He also had specific visions of seeing himself on a street corner branch off into 3 beings. His physical self, his alcoholic self and his essence which has been the same since birth. The three walked onto different paths and later came together and had an argument about wanting to drink again. The alcoholic self won over the physical self and he was convinced that he needed a drink as soon as he could wake up from this state. He said he felt panicked as if the Ibogaine had a reverse affect and restarted his addiction. Then the essence self intervened and won over the physical self by saying "I don't drink anymore, at least for today" He said such a simple message never seemed so clear, he felt that it sealed his past with drinking for good.
I'm shocked by how similar this vision is to the one that we recreated in the "Iboga" play back in 2005 at Pace University. We staged a battle between Ego, Essence and the "Addict Mother" being treated. I played Essence and yup I won. It blows my mind how these visions repeat in different people's subconscious. It's truly amazing.
He was completely relieved of his cold that began the night before with a severe throat ache and a stuffy nose. He said he felt completely clean and fresh. Incredible.
Although he did have slight cravings to smoke he said that his renewed reminder of being able to choose was enough for him to not give in. He handed me his cigarettes and said he would try, "At least for today." I suggested that he might still have cravings because in order for Ibogaine to work on an addiction interruption level he would've needed to take around 15-20milligrams per kilo. His cravings are still reduced immensely compared to what he thinks they would be like if he quit cold turkey. After all he was smoking almost 3 packs of Marb reds a day for over 30 years and he's escaped this with only psychological cravings and some fatigue.
He was overcome with emotion as he thanked me profusely for the session. He told me that he cant believe this was my first time administering because I operated as if I was completely in control and soothed his fears with my nurturing, soft approach. He thinks I was born with a gift to do this and begged me to come back and work with him in the future.
I have to say that although last night I was panicking and concentrating on all of the things that went wrong from my point of view, I think he's right. I never questioned my actions for a moment last night, I just knew exactly what to do at the proper time. I cant even say that I was thinking much about it. I was just feeling and following my instincts, which was easy because I felt so in tuned to what he was going through. It was as if I was feeling all these outside influences right along with him.
Later I let him know that I wanted to up his dosage for Friday. As expected he was repulsed by even the thought of taking his second dose tomorrow, let alone a higher dose. He understands my reasoning and agrees with me but is still shaky at the thought. I understand completely. I wanted the first ticket home out of Mexico and to never hear ibo mentioned again for the rest of my life on the day after my experience. Then after a week of being talked into it I gave in and did my second treatment. I'm incredibly thankful that I did, it was such an amazingly clear gift in which I got the answers to every issue of my physical life. 2 years later I still can't process all of it. I think it was Rocky (Sayulita MX provider) that said the first introduction session cleans out all the dark cobb webs of the mind so the second session can come in and do the real work. I really think there's something to that.
We're both pretty fried from the whole experience, in a good way. We'll probably take it easy tomorrow in preparation for tomorrow night's follow up session....!!!
Although I have much to say about my trip around this beautiful country it will have to wait for a later post because I must write about last night while it is still fresh. Yesterday I finally administered the doctor's Ibogaine treatment and wrote the following throughout the night:
So here I am on hour 2.5 of the session, the doc is stable and hopefully approaching the visionary stage.
The day went pretty much how I expected, things popped up and delayed us 3 hours but I’m just so happy to be at this point, I was starting to believe the session would never happen. We put the medicine into capsules this morning and used the scale for the first time. It was a pretty hilarious trial by error session as we clumsily tried to get the powder into the tiny capsules without spilling any using these fancy little steel and crystal instruments. We tried about 10 different methods and tools until we found one that wasted the least ibo. The pills we bought are too small and wouldn't fit any more than 0.110 milligrams-we needed 436 milligrams for his 1st session which equals about 6mgs per kilo. So we first made a 100 mg allergy testing pill, and 4 other pills for the rest of the dose. He is doing 12mgrams per kilo in total split between tonight and Friday night. 6mgrams is pretty low for someone of his weight and experience with substance abuse. I did 6.5 my first session and had my head blown off so it's always relative.
Next we made the mixture for Fridays session. The doc had an idea a few weeks back to administer ibo in a liquid form. I’m not exactly sure what the benefits are but he thinks it might get into the blood stream faster which will speed up the process, or if someone has a problem swallowing pills, like a few of his patients do, this could be an alternative. Time will tell what the differences are. We got mineral free water from the lab and put 436mg into 20ml of the water, mixed and put into a dropper for Fridays session.
We’re aiming for a 4pm start so he begins fasting at 10am and I advise him to stop drinking liquids at 12pm. I catch him sneak a can of tomato juice around 3pm, we’ll see which end it comes out later.
During our process a young woman came to the house with a new born baby. I figured she was a friend here to show off her 20 day old baby girl. We kept working and about an hour later the doc mentioned that Jessie is a nurse and will be helping us with the treatment. OK, so I won’t be alone like I thought, which isn’t a bad thing but I'd liked to have known this. The baby is adorable and has yet to be named, she still cant decide on one that everyone in the family agrees with. Jessie is very sweet, 31 but doesn’t look a day over 25 and speaks no English whatsoever (which is good, I need the push). I guess he figured I wasn’t ready to be prodding him with IV catheters or in the chance of an emergency resuscitate him, which I’m ok with, I wasn’t completely either.
I then realize that the baby is coming with us and will be here the entire time. Ok, not such a good idea. If there were a top ten list of worst things to be present at an ibogaine session I would put a new born baby at number 4 behind a monster truck race, an air show and a group of howler monkeys. Eh, whatever I guess we’ll make it work (that’s been my motto for the last 2 months). I’m just slightly annoyed that he never mentioned it to me.
An hour after we were supposed to have started treatment we are still at home. Another surprise visit from Mynor for….I’m not sure what, packing food, clothes and necessities and finally we’re ready. We get to the treatment house at 5pm and are met by Sergio and his wife. They are here to interview us before the session at the doctor’s request. Ok, another thing which is sprung upon last minute. They interview us for an hour meanwhile 2 of the doctors that are waiting by the phone to assist me call to check on us. I inform them that as expected we are behind schedule and promise to update them when we start.
Sergio and his wife leave as we begin. The dr. wants to record his session so he sets up the tripod in the room. He keeps a notebook on the bed for writing and a voice recorder. I tried to explain that I think it should be more of an internal process but he insisted that he wanted as much information recorded as possible. As expected none of these things were utilized, except a few messages into the voice recorder that were pretty much garbled nonsense within hour 2.
He took the allergy test pill at 5:55pm. Jessie took a quick physical checkup and inserted the needle for the I.V. catheter port in his wrist. I couldn’t think of anything more uncomfortable to have on during an Ibo session but he insisted that he wanted it in the case of an emergency. I think the difference between our point of view is that the more medical the session the less comfortable I'd feel, where he feels the opposite, the less medically monitored the more uncomfortable he feels.
The 4 pills with the full dose are taken exactly a half hour later at 6:25pm, which is the exact time that the baby (whose been an angel the last 4 hours) decides its time to sound off and let the world know how hard it is to be alive via her vocal cords. I rock the baby as Jessie finishes her check up. I’m a sucker for her and am slightly more interested in the baby’s needs than the doctors. I always feel like I’m playing house when I hold a baby and imagine for the time being that she’s mine, sick I know. But after more than a half hour of tending to her she reminds me how selfish I am and how far off the reality of a baby is to me.
He wants us to leave the lights on and stay with him for a while. Within the first hour he has almost no symptoms. He feels slightly tired and his auditory senses are elevated. He complains of how loud the fish tank filter in the living room sounds from his room. I suggest he be alone to try and take in what he’s feeling .
A half hour later we check again its been an hour and a half since the full dose and now I can notice the changes, he still insists he feels fine but hears a buzzing in his ears. He needs to use the bathroom and as he sits up the weight of the medicine hits him hard and he has trouble moving. I walk him to the bathroom and try to sooth him by telling him its all normal and to be expected. He wants Jessie and I to stay and talk to him but he can no longer remember English and keeps forgetting Jessie’s name. He keeps saying half sentences and then laughing hysterically, we laugh along with him and he curses me “DR. FITZSIMMONS hijo de la gran puta you put me in this state” and then laughs uncontrollably at himself. It's relieving to see that he's laughing so much, so the visions and his thoughts must not be too terribly uncomfortable, but I'm a little nervous that he can no longer understand English, just in case he needs to communicate an emergency or anything with me.
He wants to speak with Dr. Tercero to assure him everything is alright, so I call him and the doc makes absolutely no sense on the phone and abruptly hangs up. I have to call back to assure him everything is cool. We stay for a while and humor him but eventually I try to convince him to be alone to feel the medicine work. He agrees but has to get up to pee again. This trip is much harder than the last it takes many attempts to get on his feet and both me and Jessie to get him to the toilet. He wobbles back and forth as he stands, giggles to himself and asks us where the loud (nonexistent) music is coming from. I don’t want to freak him out so I say that I can hear it slightly but his senses are probably more elevated than mine right now. Back in bed he can hardly manage words so we leave him.
Jessie and I eat dinner together and try to quiet the baby. She's very sweet and helpful with the medical side of things but the truth is she knows nothing about Ibogaine and how sensitive the treatment process is. She is speaking full volume, answering her cell phone and wants to put on a movie. It’s hard to understand how extremely vulnerable a patient’s senses are during this time if they haven’t been there themselves. The creek of a door opening can sound like a tree crashing right next to you. I can’t blame her because she was thrown into this probably yesterday with no knowledge of it, but I’m really annoyed with the doc for not schooling her in the basics or at least telling me about it. I have trouble telling her to quiet down due to the language barrier but she gets me, the baby however does not. Although I may be looking at this situation as flawed I know we are all here at the same time to create his session together for a specific reason, even if it may be disturbing to him, it all has a reason. We collectively make up his experience.
The noise in this place is unreal which I've never noticed until now. The airport is nearby so low flying planes scream their way over us, the traffic outside his window is so loud it vibrates and because there is little furniture, every room echoes like a ghost house. Not to mention the little angel screaming at the top of her lungs. I can’t help but cringe with worry at every little noise on his behalf, but doc hasn’t complained about any of it yet, I don’t know if it’s because he can’t get the words out or he’s content in his waking dreams.
Hour 3- Jessie’s phone rings. She answers it and walks carelessly into doc’s room, speaks full volume in Spanish and hands him the phone. It’s his aunt checking up on him. UHHHH not a good idea to hand someone 3 hrs into an ibo treatment a phone with a paranoid, worry wart family member on the other line asking if everything is alright. I rush in the room and see him take the phone as he can barely open his eyes. I’m impressed by the fact that he can get through the brief conversation. Ok no more interruptions for a while!
Hour 4- things have finally quieted down a bit, the baby is up and down from sleep but at least done howling and we’re seated in the living room, me typing away and Jessie watching The Last Samurai on mute with subtitles. I haven’t checked doc because I figured he needed some time. From the cameras I could see that he’s still moving quite a bit in the bed, I did too in my first treatment, it was horribly uncomfortable. I’m hoping it’s not too rough for him as he’s approaching the peak.
Hour 5-Jessie and I crack the door of the doc’s room to check on him. He looks at us and says “come one in, sit with me” completely coherent. It’s the strangest thing. He is sitting up talking with us completely animated and full of jokes as he always is. He says he feels no symptoms at all besides seeing trails which follow anything that moves and slight numbness of the body. He chugs his whole Gatorade and I get him water and a banana. I’m slightly nervous about him eating, I’m not sure if he has peaked already and is on his way down or if it’s yet to come. He’s sure that he’s past the peak and is even making sense of some of the things he saw in his waking dreams and explaining them to me, Jessie, the voice recorder and the camera. He also is having nicotine cravings, which I think is strange because Ibo is said to lessen if not stop withdrawals once the visions begin. However I think what happened is that he didn’t take enough ibo for his body weight and his tolerance to substances and his body quickly metabolized the medicine which ended the session in only 5 hours.
He only took 6 mgs, where if he were an addict he might have done around 20. I urged him to do at least 15 between the 2 sessions but he kept saying he didn’t want to waste the Ibo, he now admits it was because of fear.
I know it’s silly but I feel slightly disappointed that he had such a casual experience, I think we defiantly should have had a booster pill on hand of at least 2mgs. Although I believe that every Ibo experience goes exactly the way it was meant to, I guess we can take this as the introduction. Maybe I can convince him to take more on Friday to get to a break through point, we’ll see.
The hardly slept that night. Partly because I was anxious to hear how he's doing and partly because I was worried about him. He slept until about 3pm, which is pretty normal, Ibo can be exhausting. When he awoke he burst out of the room looking surprisingly refreshed "DOCTOR FITZSIMMONS!" he announced as he hugged me "I FEEL GREAT!" I listened to his experiences for the rest of the day.
From his point of view the session was extremely successful. By no means did he enjoy it but he was on a high from how much he'd received from it. He was incredibly terrified by the sensations he felt physically and when he looked at Jessie and I he could see the veins in our skin as if we were pale corpses. He also had a bit of a paranoid phase where he saw this elaborate plan that panned out perfectly in which Jessie and I were hired to kill him. Despite all of these living nightmares he was able to laugh at them. He said the absurdity of it all made him laugh hysterically, which showed him that fear is simply created.
He also had specific visions of seeing himself on a street corner branch off into 3 beings. His physical self, his alcoholic self and his essence which has been the same since birth. The three walked onto different paths and later came together and had an argument about wanting to drink again. The alcoholic self won over the physical self and he was convinced that he needed a drink as soon as he could wake up from this state. He said he felt panicked as if the Ibogaine had a reverse affect and restarted his addiction. Then the essence self intervened and won over the physical self by saying "I don't drink anymore, at least for today" He said such a simple message never seemed so clear, he felt that it sealed his past with drinking for good.
I'm shocked by how similar this vision is to the one that we recreated in the "Iboga" play back in 2005 at Pace University. We staged a battle between Ego, Essence and the "Addict Mother" being treated. I played Essence and yup I won. It blows my mind how these visions repeat in different people's subconscious. It's truly amazing.
He was completely relieved of his cold that began the night before with a severe throat ache and a stuffy nose. He said he felt completely clean and fresh. Incredible.
Although he did have slight cravings to smoke he said that his renewed reminder of being able to choose was enough for him to not give in. He handed me his cigarettes and said he would try, "At least for today." I suggested that he might still have cravings because in order for Ibogaine to work on an addiction interruption level he would've needed to take around 15-20milligrams per kilo. His cravings are still reduced immensely compared to what he thinks they would be like if he quit cold turkey. After all he was smoking almost 3 packs of Marb reds a day for over 30 years and he's escaped this with only psychological cravings and some fatigue.
He was overcome with emotion as he thanked me profusely for the session. He told me that he cant believe this was my first time administering because I operated as if I was completely in control and soothed his fears with my nurturing, soft approach. He thinks I was born with a gift to do this and begged me to come back and work with him in the future.
I have to say that although last night I was panicking and concentrating on all of the things that went wrong from my point of view, I think he's right. I never questioned my actions for a moment last night, I just knew exactly what to do at the proper time. I cant even say that I was thinking much about it. I was just feeling and following my instincts, which was easy because I felt so in tuned to what he was going through. It was as if I was feeling all these outside influences right along with him.
Later I let him know that I wanted to up his dosage for Friday. As expected he was repulsed by even the thought of taking his second dose tomorrow, let alone a higher dose. He understands my reasoning and agrees with me but is still shaky at the thought. I understand completely. I wanted the first ticket home out of Mexico and to never hear ibo mentioned again for the rest of my life on the day after my experience. Then after a week of being talked into it I gave in and did my second treatment. I'm incredibly thankful that I did, it was such an amazingly clear gift in which I got the answers to every issue of my physical life. 2 years later I still can't process all of it. I think it was Rocky (Sayulita MX provider) that said the first introduction session cleans out all the dark cobb webs of the mind so the second session can come in and do the real work. I really think there's something to that.
We're both pretty fried from the whole experience, in a good way. We'll probably take it easy tomorrow in preparation for tomorrow night's follow up session....!!!
Monday, December 1, 2008
Embracing Stagnation
Yesterday we had our big CPR/First Aid course. It was somewhat of a grueling 5 hours but very thorough- the only way doc knows how. I'm pretty lucky to have gotten the whole training for free. He does these training courses for the special Olympics staff and schools.
I'm feeling better this week though with the reality of our situation. I'm trying to take everything as it comes instead of trying to force productivity. If nothing else it's made me more aware of that in myself. My best attributes is my ability to see through blocks and accomplish things with persistence and luck, and its one of my biggest flaws; not being able to relax and be content if I'm not constantly working towards accomplishing something. That's always the case with people though, what you love best about someone is also what you cant fucking stand about them, it just depends on the situation.
Plus its been around 15 degrees warmer so that always helps : )
One of our investors/partners pulled out of the project today. Its bitter sweet because on the bright side it doesn't really matter since he hasn't paid his end in a month or shown any interest in helping or contacting us plus we can move on now that we know he's defiantly out, but the hard part is that the center is in his name. The doc doesn't seem worried though, he's much more concerned with loyalty than money (one of those things I love and cant stand).
Luckily we found a loan for the scale and it will be shipped to us on Friday! So it looks like at least I'll be able to facilitate docs session before I go, which would be so very gratifying.
Even better news...my Mom is coming tomorrow!! I'll get a much needed and anticipated 10 day break. We're going to Antigua to climb Pacaya- an active volcano, Lake Atitlan which is the biggest Guatemalan lake that's surrounded by little indigenous Mayan villages and last Tikal, home of the biggest Mayan ruins in the country and tropical lands so it'll be even warmer. Luckily doc promised we'd wait until I got back to start treatments.
Till then Lady and I are just sitting on the roof holding down the fort and embracing the sweet stagnation of the day.
I'm feeling better this week though with the reality of our situation. I'm trying to take everything as it comes instead of trying to force productivity. If nothing else it's made me more aware of that in myself. My best attributes is my ability to see through blocks and accomplish things with persistence and luck, and its one of my biggest flaws; not being able to relax and be content if I'm not constantly working towards accomplishing something. That's always the case with people though, what you love best about someone is also what you cant fucking stand about them, it just depends on the situation.
Plus its been around 15 degrees warmer so that always helps : )
One of our investors/partners pulled out of the project today. Its bitter sweet because on the bright side it doesn't really matter since he hasn't paid his end in a month or shown any interest in helping or contacting us plus we can move on now that we know he's defiantly out, but the hard part is that the center is in his name. The doc doesn't seem worried though, he's much more concerned with loyalty than money (one of those things I love and cant stand).
Luckily we found a loan for the scale and it will be shipped to us on Friday! So it looks like at least I'll be able to facilitate docs session before I go, which would be so very gratifying.
Even better news...my Mom is coming tomorrow!! I'll get a much needed and anticipated 10 day break. We're going to Antigua to climb Pacaya- an active volcano, Lake Atitlan which is the biggest Guatemalan lake that's surrounded by little indigenous Mayan villages and last Tikal, home of the biggest Mayan ruins in the country and tropical lands so it'll be even warmer. Luckily doc promised we'd wait until I got back to start treatments.
Till then Lady and I are just sitting on the roof holding down the fort and embracing the sweet stagnation of the day.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Enjoy your rotting bird carcass, I'll enjoy my beans
I've never cared about this meaningless holiday but today I'm wishing I could give thanks to the Indians we slaughtered for the US of A with everyone else. Ah 4 weeks and counting, I know I shouldn't be because I am sitting on the roof under a cloudless sky with the sun on my shoulders, but I cant help but count.
So it seems that things aren't working out quite as I had hoped. Since last week we've been playing with the medicine, measuring doses, finding the perfect sized capsules and finally due to doc's medical perfectionism he deemed our scale unworthy. The scale we need is 2,000 quetzales around 265 dollars, which is big money here. The doc is waiting on half of Guatemala to pay him back for medical services he let slide and loans he gave out, now he's broke and we cant move forward until we have that scale. I've offered to pay just to get things moving, but he refused. I cant blame him, but its frustrating. I guess that's the thing with small businesses, if you don't have big money behind you the process is painstakingly long.
Being somewhat captive in our gated community is taking it's toll-too much time to think. I'm ready to take my chances in the big bad city, after all I know how to shoot now-kidding mom.
Tomorrow Doc is giving Jeraldo and I a First Aid and CPR lesson. We're getting the dummy and all today. I've been looking forward to it, I know its necessary regardless of what I pursue.
I have a sneaking feeling that we aren't going to do the treatments before I leave. It's got me over analyzing the point of this trip and what I've accomplished. I need to come to terms with the possibility of that and not weigh everything on it happening. I know I've gained a lot of medical knowledge and I better understand how much it takes to start up an ibo clinic, but it would be nice to taste the fruits of our labor. If I've chosen this vagabond life for myself I need to loosen my control grasp and go somewhere knowing full well that things wont be how I day dream they will, not everything will progress my ibogaine studies but it will be something new to remember. I still cant help but weigh what its worth....I better at least get a tan ; )
I'm sure these feelings will pass, maybe its just this damn holiday and the consequence of trying to change what our culture has imprinted in my brain as traditional.
Eat an extra piece of pie for me, happy bird murdering! With that;
http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=sarah+palin+tirkey+pardon&hl=en&emb=0&aq=o#q=sarah%20palin%20turkey%20pardon%20uncensored&hl=en&emb=0
Oh Sarah, how I miss seeing you in the press.
So it seems that things aren't working out quite as I had hoped. Since last week we've been playing with the medicine, measuring doses, finding the perfect sized capsules and finally due to doc's medical perfectionism he deemed our scale unworthy. The scale we need is 2,000 quetzales around 265 dollars, which is big money here. The doc is waiting on half of Guatemala to pay him back for medical services he let slide and loans he gave out, now he's broke and we cant move forward until we have that scale. I've offered to pay just to get things moving, but he refused. I cant blame him, but its frustrating. I guess that's the thing with small businesses, if you don't have big money behind you the process is painstakingly long.
Being somewhat captive in our gated community is taking it's toll-too much time to think. I'm ready to take my chances in the big bad city, after all I know how to shoot now-kidding mom.
Tomorrow Doc is giving Jeraldo and I a First Aid and CPR lesson. We're getting the dummy and all today. I've been looking forward to it, I know its necessary regardless of what I pursue.
I have a sneaking feeling that we aren't going to do the treatments before I leave. It's got me over analyzing the point of this trip and what I've accomplished. I need to come to terms with the possibility of that and not weigh everything on it happening. I know I've gained a lot of medical knowledge and I better understand how much it takes to start up an ibo clinic, but it would be nice to taste the fruits of our labor. If I've chosen this vagabond life for myself I need to loosen my control grasp and go somewhere knowing full well that things wont be how I day dream they will, not everything will progress my ibogaine studies but it will be something new to remember. I still cant help but weigh what its worth....I better at least get a tan ; )
I'm sure these feelings will pass, maybe its just this damn holiday and the consequence of trying to change what our culture has imprinted in my brain as traditional.
Eat an extra piece of pie for me, happy bird murdering! With that;
http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=sarah+palin+tirkey+pardon&hl=en&emb=0&aq=o#q=sarah%20palin%20turkey%20pardon%20uncensored&hl=en&emb=0
Oh Sarah, how I miss seeing you in the press.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Brrrrrr!
1. Doc's office
2. Michella y Lady
3. Michella y me
4. Me
5. Doc
It's COLD! I thought being this close to the equator would give me a tropical winter, but because Guatemala is the highland of a valley, no such luck. The coldest it gets is around 50, which makes me sound like a whiner, but every home and building is constructed in an open air style- where there should be a door there is instead the complete lack of a wall, so you've got got goosebumps from sun down to sun up.
The past couple of days have been tough at times. The whole thing is on the horizon, but for now we're waiting on endless formalities and money issues to get resolved before we start. The down time has occasionally provoked homesickness. I just crave social interaction with people my own age. Hanging out with only middle aged men for the past 18 days takes it's toll. I'm trying to remind myself that we're almost there and I'll soon be too busy to remember all of that.
I spent the ENTIRE day yesterday on the website outline. Ugh. The doc spent the entire night before working and never slept, so he was an unproductive zombie that day, and I ended up doing it all on my own. It didn't help my attitude any, he could tell so he promised we'd do something fun that night.
We went out to Cachasa last night once we finished the outline. It's a great acoustic music lounge converted from a barn. They have various instruments on the stage, so whoever knows a song can get up and play for the small crowd. The doc got up and played some guitar while a younger guy came up and sang these beautiful Spanish ballads. It was so much fun. I finally had a drink for the first time since I left (might've been the driest I've been since I was 14-not proud of that). The only local Guatemalan beer is Gallo (Rooster) it's a really good lager. After 3 I was toasty (I should take dry spells more often). I felt a little guilty drinking in front of the doc, but he insisted it didn't bother him.
I talked to this girl Kris for a long time. Her dad is Guatemalan and her mom is from Geneva, NY! Her mom came here as an exchange student and never left. I told her I was from Schenectady and she was like "Oh my God, I LOVED Schenectady! It was such a quaint city" Her 2 brothers live in Albany, because they have dual citizenship. I never for a million years thought I'd meet someone in Guat city that had any idea what Schenectady was. Kris introduced me to all the bar staff (who were also the performers) and we had a great time together.
She shed some light on why I've been kept under such air-tight security wraps. I told her how I feel like I haven't seen the city because the doc keeps telling me it's unsafe to do anything on my own. She explained that it really was for my own good, he isn't exaggerating, a friend of hers was shot in the head and robbed from his car in a bad part of town 3 days ago. She was saying that all too often Americans like me come to Guat and over look the fact that it's a 3rd world country. She said there still is a lot to see and it's a beautiful place but just not to do it alone. It did help me see better where the doc was coming from. It was so refreshing to hang with her and the staff though, I got her info so hopefully I'll see her again.
Speaking of security, I finally learned to shoot! We took a break from work a couple days ago and I got my shooting lesson in the garden. It's a 45mm with a buffer built in to soften the kick back-even so that thing kicked my ass. We put targets on the sand and he showed me how to stand, aim and safety precautions. When you shoot it seems like everything goes into slow motion from the power of the sound and the kick back, my ears were ringing for the whole day. It was awesome. I keep asking him to bring me to a range now.
It's funny how in the middle of the afternoon your neighbors can hear you shoot off rounds and think nothing of it, one of the perks of Guatemala. That and the disregard for picking up dog shit, I love it. I was walking Lady a couple days ago and I bent down to bag her business. Doc and Marta looked at me like I was crazy and started cracking up, "What are jyou going to do with that?" She asked me, and they laughed about it for the rest of the day.
The past couple of days have been tough at times. The whole thing is on the horizon, but for now we're waiting on endless formalities and money issues to get resolved before we start. The down time has occasionally provoked homesickness. I just crave social interaction with people my own age. Hanging out with only middle aged men for the past 18 days takes it's toll. I'm trying to remind myself that we're almost there and I'll soon be too busy to remember all of that.
I spent the ENTIRE day yesterday on the website outline. Ugh. The doc spent the entire night before working and never slept, so he was an unproductive zombie that day, and I ended up doing it all on my own. It didn't help my attitude any, he could tell so he promised we'd do something fun that night.
We went out to Cachasa last night once we finished the outline. It's a great acoustic music lounge converted from a barn. They have various instruments on the stage, so whoever knows a song can get up and play for the small crowd. The doc got up and played some guitar while a younger guy came up and sang these beautiful Spanish ballads. It was so much fun. I finally had a drink for the first time since I left (might've been the driest I've been since I was 14-not proud of that). The only local Guatemalan beer is Gallo (Rooster) it's a really good lager. After 3 I was toasty (I should take dry spells more often). I felt a little guilty drinking in front of the doc, but he insisted it didn't bother him.
I talked to this girl Kris for a long time. Her dad is Guatemalan and her mom is from Geneva, NY! Her mom came here as an exchange student and never left. I told her I was from Schenectady and she was like "Oh my God, I LOVED Schenectady! It was such a quaint city" Her 2 brothers live in Albany, because they have dual citizenship. I never for a million years thought I'd meet someone in Guat city that had any idea what Schenectady was. Kris introduced me to all the bar staff (who were also the performers) and we had a great time together.
She shed some light on why I've been kept under such air-tight security wraps. I told her how I feel like I haven't seen the city because the doc keeps telling me it's unsafe to do anything on my own. She explained that it really was for my own good, he isn't exaggerating, a friend of hers was shot in the head and robbed from his car in a bad part of town 3 days ago. She was saying that all too often Americans like me come to Guat and over look the fact that it's a 3rd world country. She said there still is a lot to see and it's a beautiful place but just not to do it alone. It did help me see better where the doc was coming from. It was so refreshing to hang with her and the staff though, I got her info so hopefully I'll see her again.
Speaking of security, I finally learned to shoot! We took a break from work a couple days ago and I got my shooting lesson in the garden. It's a 45mm with a buffer built in to soften the kick back-even so that thing kicked my ass. We put targets on the sand and he showed me how to stand, aim and safety precautions. When you shoot it seems like everything goes into slow motion from the power of the sound and the kick back, my ears were ringing for the whole day. It was awesome. I keep asking him to bring me to a range now.
It's funny how in the middle of the afternoon your neighbors can hear you shoot off rounds and think nothing of it, one of the perks of Guatemala. That and the disregard for picking up dog shit, I love it. I was walking Lady a couple days ago and I bent down to bag her business. Doc and Marta looked at me like I was crazy and started cracking up, "What are jyou going to do with that?" She asked me, and they laughed about it for the rest of the day.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
It's Been a Hard Day's Night...
1. Volcano over Antigua2. Me on the cathederal steps
3. Jesus on his deathbed inside the cathederal
4. Inside the cathederal
5. The main cathederal in Antigua
The ibo arrival lit a flame under our asses. Before we do the staff sessions we need to get a few things in order, so we've spent the day trying to organize (and by that I mean me making lists while the doc plays with and measures the medicine and capsules, in turn I chastise him for his lack of focus). We need to get all emergency medical materials and meds ready at the house, as well as stocking it with food and basic living necessities.
We had a meeting with the "advertising head" he's doc's long time friend Sergio who is a photographer/designer. We gave him a tour of the house and discussed all the things we need to put together for him; an outline of the web site- which means we need to put together a mission statement, logo, put into words the vision doc has for its themes, hotel/tourist info for clients from outside Guat. Also we need to target a few hotels and try to work out a deal/partnership with them-Maybe this wkend, which will be a great excuse to sight see : ) Hopefully we can finish all of the above before next wk so we can start doc's session. It feels good to finally have the pressure on.
We had a little meeting with a rep. from "Medpharma" to propose our idea and try and work out a deal with them; If they give us their meds for free to treat our patients for PAW (post acute withdrawal) syndrome, we'll use their products exclusively, which will provide advertising for them, plus we're a good cause so it'll give them charity cred. Doc wasn't very optimistic going into it because of previous dealings with typically slimy, greedy pharmaceutical companies.
But the rep. was surprisingly interested in our treatment and had a lot of questions about PAW, he even requested docs PAW presentation and documents via email. He wasn't what I expected at all, he had a great concern for our cause and agreed that the alcohol problem here is appalling and unrecognized. He's going to run it over with the higher ups and hopefully get back to us.
As soon as the rep. was out the door, the doc's next patient Delmi, was on her way in. Delmi has been coming to the doc for therapy sessions for a long while. He has a strange sort of approach to therapy that I'm not completely sure I agree with yet- it's very Freudian. He hooks up a very small IV to a vein just below the patients knuckle and gives them a very small doses of a barbiturate and a benzodiazepine, which creates a slightly sedative effect, almost a hypnosis state where the subconscious is easily accessed. He films the entire session and has the patient speak about their problems and feelings for anywhere from an hour to 3 hrs, until the patient falls asleep for a short while. During the next session they review the video and he tells me the patients are typically shocked at what they've said during the treatment, they are able to see what their issues are without the veil of denial.
He's been describing these sessions to me for a while and I've watched some of Delmi's sessions on dvd. Tonight I got to sit in on it. Honestly it was pretty anti-climactic, mostly because I couldn't understand what she was saying. Delmi is a really sweet middle-aged mom. She suffers from low self-esteem due to her husbands constant infidelity and depression. I tried very hard to understand what was happening, but my attention span was doing cartwheels as I sat there for 2 hours trying to get it to sit still and translate. Eventually she fell asleep and doc answered my questions and we discussed his approach until her drowsiness wore off.
I'm not sure if I completely agree with the use of sedatives to access the subconscious, but he claims to have made tremendous progress with Delmi and many other patients this way. It'll be interesting to see her reaction on Saturday, where we'll review the dvd. It seems to me kind of like express thearapy, you dont have to get comfortable with a therapist for months before delving into the meaty issues. I'm wondering though if there is more of a benefit to having a therapy break through while conscious as opposed to sedated, maybe she'll have a concious break through while watching the dvd. I guess we'll see. Till then there is much work to be done..
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