Blame it on the Moon

1. Lady-Mi Amor

2. Martine with Lady

3&4.The park

So I finally got a little time off, spent Sunday relaxing. Sunday actually was a pretty strange day. I'm starting to see the method to the doc's madness. On Saturday night we looked up at the moon and he told me that he believes it sends out electromagnetic fields of energy when it is aligned a certain way, which affects our moods and actions. Due to the crescent that night, the cycles over the next 2 days will illicit strange moods or behavior.
Now I can be pretty far out, but when he told me he really believed that I just smiled and nodded, thinking it was psycho-induced, if you believe the moon will make you feel strange than you will regardless. Whether or not that is true, Sunday was strange.
I was feeling very Agoraphobic all day, maybe I was frustrated that I couldn't speak to anyone without the doc or just a touch of culture shock, whatever it was I couldn't leave the house all day. I slept about 12 hours, even though the following days I was well rested. The doc was gone before I woke and came home late in the afternoon. I was in the very small garden in front of the house taking in the sun. He came over to me and asked me to come in his office to speak about something privately. This is extremely odd. He is the kind of person that would tell a room full of strangers what time he took a shit that day, so I thought I must have done something wrong.
His office is the archetype of a Dr/psychologist's office; certificates lining the walls, a framed portrait of Freud, big comfortable leather chairs, a plastic brain model on a stand, little magnetic puzzles and games, Tibetan nick knacks.
He closed the door behind him and said, "I be jyour first patient Dr. Fitzsimmons" and laughed half heartily. He plopped into the "patient" chair, the comfy one. I sat motionless in the rigid "Dr." chair just watching him. He held his head and told me about his day. He was being pushed to fire either Santos or his 17 yr. old brother Martine, who also lives with us (they help at home and with his other joint business, which is a little food vending thing) I don't remember the exact reasons, something with money, nothing that Santos or Martine did. The Dr's parents, grandparents and little brother are all dead, he only has his aunt. He's always talks about how much loyalty means to him-building a team or a family of trustworthy people. He began to talk about how accustomed he is to being alone after his brother died, how he doesn't feel alone anymore-he is alone. That's why when he finds trustworthy, loyal workers he considers them family. He doesn't want to fire either of them, but is in an economic bind. They come from severe poverty and have never betrayed his trust. As the words came out tears ran down his face. I didn't know what to do-I did nothing. Seeing a 42 yr. old man openly and shamelessly cry is not something I come across everyday, in fact I don't think I ever have. I just listened, frozen. When he was done he said, "I'm glad jyou saw dis and hope jyou can do the same in front of me, jwhen you need to."
That's when I realized the fundamental different between our cultures-when he said that I nodded my head at the same time thinking-there's no way in hell I would. I/we see crying as something I physically could not squeeze out in front of a stranger, acquaintance or even a friend, unless maybe I was drunk. While he sees it as an opportunity to open himself to and gain the trust of a friend. It really was beautiful to see someone so open, but it was painfully uncomfortable because it reminded me of how far away from that I am.
Then he lit a match and said "Look to dis flame, it is every world-born ting, every relationship, parent, child, p-p-p-how you say like your dog, like lady?" "Pet?" I answered. "jYes! Jyes..jyour Pet, jyour best friend-see how suddenly de flame burn out? Just like every world-born ting it will all one day leave, at any time." the flame died as soon as he finished speaking, as if he timed and rehearsed it.
We had dinner soon after with Tia Marta, Santos and Martine (who still avoid my eye contact and attempts at "buenas dias!"). Black beans and rice with tortillas. They spoke in Spanish, while I focused and tried to keep up (no such luck). Once we finished Marta and the boys got busy clearing the dishes, as they left I said "gracias, buenas noches" and for the first time in almost a wk Santos and Martine smiled, blurted out "Buen noche" and they hurried out. Once they were clear, the doc laughed and said "Why do jyou tink they have not gave jyou answer until now?" I shrugged "They know I cant speak Spanish and don't want to hear me try?" he laughed again "no they have embarrass, I talked to them today, told them they must speaks with jyou" He went on to explain that they think of me as Princess Diana, because I'm from the states, and they're ashamed to share the house with me and be around me because they grew up so poor. Since he told them I was coming a month ago Santos asked him every other day "When is la gringa coming?" dreadfully, and he would say "relax, relax she will live like one of us, that's why she iz coming, anyway iz not for a few more wheeks" Then onceI arrived and he saw how they lowered their gaze and muted themselves when I came into a room, he spoke to them and told them to take princess Di off the pedestal and treat me like one of them.
"This makes SO much sense, I've been wondering!" I said, he laughed and said "jYou see? Dis iz what we learned about in my slides" referring to the slides about how the brain filters a situation and misperceives it because of their own psychological issues. "they don speak with jyou becauz they think too high of jyou and jyou tink iz because you Spanish is no good enough for them."
Then he told me (one of many) Zen/Aesop fable-like stories and promised this one would be short. Called the house of 102 dogs. A dog walks into an unknown house and sees 100 dogs looking back at him, wagging their tails, panting and smiling. The dog was delighted and walked out thinking "what a wonderful place, I know clubs for humans exist, finally a club for dogs, this is great!" Later another dog walks into the house and sees 100 dogs looking back at him, he's caught by surprise and the hair on his back begins to rise in defence. The many dogs begin to lower their tails and raise their lips to a growl. The one dog sends out a warning bark to keep their distance. Then the 100 dogs bark and howl back at him, the sound is deafening. Terrified the dog runs out for his life thinking "What an awful place, I will never go near this house again" in front of the house there is a sign that reads "The house of 100 mirrors"
I said "Oooh, you see what you are" He smiled and said "Good, Dr.Fitzsimmons" (my version of the story of course is without his long character by character description and extended dialogue)

After dinner we watched Midnight Express (I also have a mile long list of movies I'm assigned) which is pretty old, I think late 70s but an incredibly powerful movie. I still have some of the images in my head. After the movie it was (to no surprise) lesson time. We talked for a long time about the theory of "micro-rage", how many small irritations over a long period of time can change a person and allow them to commit acts that no one would ever expect from them, for instance a man or woman killing their spouse when everyone around them thought they were happily married.
That lead into his theory of neurological relationship dependence/toxic relationship addiction and the way that the brain reacts to it. I haven't fully grasped it but it's something like; when people fall in love the brain associates their smells and voice (all the sensory aspects) to the rush of endorphins that the brain receives when that person is around. In nearly the exact same way that the brain becomes psychologically addicted to drugs it can become addicted to a person. The brain associates that drug to the first euphoric rush of endorphins it received the first time it got high/drunk and is forever trying to get that feeling back-similar to a toxic relationship. No matter how bad things have gotten all you remember and try to recapture is the first happy months/weeks of the relationship. And when you finally call things off, the brain suffers withdrawals in a similar way it does when withdrawaling from drugs-when it is dependant on those endorphins and goes without them it suffers, and knows that if only it could have one hit of the substance or in this case one phone call from that person, it would end its suffering-and there in lies the cycle of psychological addiction.
hmm...maybe there is something to that.

Training Day

Dr. Lopez rushed me out of bed and told me that we were leaving in 20 mins to go to 2 rehab clinics today that were very religious, he handed me a bible and told me to dress up-today we are christian missionaries...perfect. I laughed at him while I watched him paint a crucifix on his book with white-out, over breakfast.
Black beans and eggs again, although his Aunt- Tia Marta kept piling things on my plate, yogurt, 3 slices of toast with jelly, fruit (the most incredibly sweet papaya y pina I've tasted in forever) all the while yelling at Dr. Lopez in spanish for not accommodating me. When she went into the kitchen he said "I tink Tia Marta will de first patient to treat with de ibo" "Wow, really? Why?" I said, "jYes, because she iz fecking crasy!"
She sat with me while I ate and asked me with wide eyed excitement about my ibo experience. I'm in love with her dog "Lady" that follows her every step. She's the most beautiful cocker spaniel with long golden and blond curls that drape around her. I'm in love. Aunt Marta thinks my enthusiasm for Lady is hysterical, "Look at ojos when I say about de bath, she hate de bath..Laaady BANO BANO!" Lady's eyes almost bulge out of her little head, and we crack up. Now literally every single time I see Tia Marta she says "Laaady BANO BANO!" and laughs.

We picked up his friend Myner who was our in at the clinics-"Nueva Luz" New Light, they're owned by the same people but in different zones (Guat city is divided into Zonas, which are basically different burroughs). We walked into Nueva Luz in Zona 5 bibles in tow. Myner spoke to the head of the ward to give him the speil that we are Christian missionary doctors visiting rehab clinics around Guat to speak to the patients. While we waited to be admitted Dr.Lopez looked at me and said "I be your shadow and you know what I am carrying." referring to his gun.
Holy shit. It looked like a makeshift jail for war prisoners. The walls were crumbling apart with black filth that reached waist high, no ceiling, but pictures of Jesus and the 12 steps nailed all over the walls. There was a very small jail cell in the corner that 2 young men were reaching out of to get a look at us-This is the cage that Louise (at the "5 star" rehab house) was talking about. MUCH to my surprise the warden had arranged all 25 patients before us and 2 chairs at the front for us. I was to give my interview to the audience...christ be with me. As I looked out at them I was surprised by how many young faces there were, it seemed like a quarter of the patients were under 17. As soon as I came in I noticed the younger boys whispering, nudging and giggling to each other..
The doc went on for a long while about his history with addiction, his final sobriety and his current field of work, then introduced me for the interview. Before I got a word in 4 hands arose. The doc translated for one man's question; He wanted to know what Dr. Fitzsimmons history with addiction was and my over all opinion on addicted people. I told him although I personally hadn't dealt with it, my family had and explained, my opinion of addicted people is that it is a physical disease therefore the people should be treated with the same compassion and medical treatment as any other med. condition. As soon as I finsihed 3 more arms shot up. A very old man said that my answer made everyone very confused because this wk they had another religious speaker come in and explain to them that the reason for their substance abuse and suffering was due to past sins that they must pay for, and that their desire to drink is demons inside of them, now what we are saying makes them wonder if they should believe religion or the science we brought ....oh merciful christ. They actually believe this, even the teenagers, it broke my heart.
We had several more questions, including one of the boys that was giggling when I came in, couldn't have been more than 14, thanking me profusely for taking time out to visit them, he couldn't believe that a dr. from the U.S. could make time for them and was wondering if he could have my phone number..I'm sure his friend dared him. Another told me it meant so much to see that there are dr.s that care about addicts and are taking time to develop something to help them. Afterward they huddled around us asking for medical advise. There is absolutely no medical care in Nueva Luz, so they took this opportunity with the dr.s very seriously. People showed us very severe psoriasis (which is aggravated by alcohol intake), fractured bones, rolled up their clothes and pointed to the places they felt pain while Dr. Lopez tried to advise them all. Then they hugged me and thanked me profusely. All I knew how to say was "Mucho gusto" which I just repeated over and over. One of the very old men hugged me and said "VIVA OBAMA!!" all I knew to say back was "SI!!!" as I held my heart. Dr. Lopez took me over to shake hands with the 2 young boys hanging over the bars of the tiny cell, I smiled at them and they just stared at me blankly. Even if I could speak their language I have no idea what I would have told them, but I felt I needed should say something.
I took out my camera to take a quick pic and once they saw it every single one of the teenage boys lined up and fought to take an individual picture with me. They offered us a meal but the doc refused for me and whispered "I tell you later what they serve"
We drove to the next clinic in silence, Myner and the doc wanted my opinion but I was so torn up by seeing the childlike excitement of the teenagers in that hell hole, some of them behind bars with the only thing to eat cow lungs and spleen...every day...which was the meal they offered us. With all of this in mind, these clinics are the middle of the spectrum of options as an addict, they are paying for this, it's affordable, but they are still paying. Doc told me we have yet to see the worst and even then people would die to be admitted into even the worst clinics.
Nueva Luz in zona 4 was the next stop. The clinic looked like a big abandoned garage, complete was a broke down car in the corner that had stray cats chasing each other around it.The chairs were arranged like a church, with us on a platform in the front, the 12 steps painted behind us like the ten commandments and a picture of Jesus leading a defeated-looking man out of a bar. 17 patients, all older men. When I looked out my first thought was that if I was stifled by the heat in the air, I cant imagine how dreadful it must be to go through withdrawals here, when you're already constantly sweating and shaking. The interview here was much more difficult. They were'nt as charmed by the fact that I was from the U.S, they wanted legitimate answers from a doctor. One by one they told their heart-rending stories and always at the end something close to "I've tried everything, what can I do when I leave rehab on monday, I cant afford medication and I cant afford to stay here because my family needs me to work, what is your advice Dr. Fitzsimmons?" There are only so many times that I could answer them "Build a sober network with each other when you leave, rely on friends that are going through the same, attend AA meetings, trust that you are in control". I almost gave up, I was so overwhelmed because who the fuck was I sitting up here as a doctor, when I have no idea the pain they have had to live through in this country as an addict, who am I to try to give them the same bullshit advice they've heard before. Finally I would just say what do you think Dr. Lopez?
It's so hard for me to grasp. I feel like the people that run these institutions should be incarcerated for this treatment but the reality is, as the doc explained when we left, the Guat Gov. made a law in 1950 that no addicts or intoxicated people were allowed to stay or be treated in a hospital, at all. therefore the options that I saw today are a dream compared to being on the street. As one of the patients said after he told his story "If it were'nt for clinics like this, an affordable way to get help, I and thousands of others would be dead."
That evening doc told me a little about our first ibo patient an 18 yr old named Josh. Doc been his physician since he was born but all thorugh his teens Josh has been using coke, crack, alcohol and inhalents (which is most common among Guat teens, becuase it's so cheap) pretty much whatever he can get his hands on he abuses. Josh has been to the rehab houses many times (his father has money, as far as Guat standards go) and has had no luck. He's been talking to Josh's father for years about ibogaine and promised him that Josh would be the first patient.
Tonight we took his father to see the Ibogaine treatment house, it was my first time as well. The doc's intentions were to show me all of the options for addicts in Guatemala, from the best to the worst (although I have yet to visit the worst) that way when I work in the ibo house I'll be able to understand where people are comming from and where we stand among the options.
I was blown away.
Now not to sound like a snob but this house was not perfect by Guatemalan standards, it was perfect by my privledged standards. I honestly did not expect this much before I got here. I was in Sayulita, Mexico before and after they were able to get their treatment house, I know how difficult and time consuming it can be to start an independant buisness. I thought we would be borrowing space in a hospital or using his house for treatments until we could get it off the ground. But this house is a dream. The dr. invested so much into it, its vastly nicer than his own home.
The 1st fl has plenty of room for a kitchen, dining room, 2 offices, a patio and meeting/waiting room for incomming patients or their families. The 2nd fl. has a family room, 3 bedrooms for patitents to have their treatments done in, equipped with cameras aimed at the beds so we dont have to interrupt their process by opening the door and checking on them. Such a small thing that makes SUCH a big difference. The 3rd fl. has a bedroom, bathroom and patio upstairs for staff, removed from the patients so we dont have to whisper and tip toe around while they're being treated. While he was giving us the tour I was imagining everything I've wanted to do for so long play out in each room.
My homework keeps piling up, I have; the Alcoholics Anonymous blue book, the history of zen (in spanish) and 3 med. journals on brain function. Off to work.

Ay. Dios. Mio.

This is not a vacation. I feel like I've been treading water all day fighting to stay above the surface. Dr. Lopez's passion to teach me is so inspiring. He has shifted his entire daily lifestyle to take me on as an apprentice and he doesn't waste a single moment as an opportunity to show me something new. At the end of the day, I am grateful and fucking exhausted.
This morning first thing he got a call from the woman he treated yesterday with the heart problem. In Guatemala your health insurance only covers your med. costs if the consultation is done by your primary doctor or one specific doctor to be used as a back up. Last night neither doctor was available so Dr. Lopez rushed to the hospital to treat her, because he's not her primary doc she must pay out of pocket. She decided that it was too expensive and let him know this morning that he would not be paid. There is nothing that covers him for this behavior, at all. He pays the hospital a fee for all of the treatments he performs there. In this case he explained to me that he is now paying out of pocket for performing the nearly 2 hour treatment... what? the idea that a doctor would be taken advantage of is a joke, in the U.S. we are so used to the medical industry screwing patients regardless of if they are penny less or not. I was shocked that this was even a possibility-the patient having power over the doctor. I could tell he wasn't affected, he said "Well Christine, I don't understand why all of these people are waiting for the return of Jesus, do you know why? because here he is right here in Guatemala, I shower services on all the people with nothing in return" and laughed hard at himself.
The woman came to our house at his request to discuss the matter. I followed them to his office. I forced myself to concentrate on this conversation in espanol, to try, like I successfully did last night at the rehab house, to understand at least the gist of what's going on. I could catch a vocab word every 20 words-then zone out-pregunta-zone out-los manos-zone out-esposa-zone out...On and on this went until she left. I saw her pay him quetzales (Guatemalan money) so if you asked me I would have thought he got his way, I was not only clueless to the situation but discouraged by how little I could catch of her quick high pitched Spanish that ran together like a tongue twister. After the meeting he told me she paid him a quarter of the bill, slightly more than his fees to the hospital. Unreal.
As soon as she left the doc's lawyer and his wife came to the house for a minor surgery. His big toe was swollen with infection because a part of his toe nail was ingrown. The couple was lovely, constantly making jokes to me about the Dr. even though they knew very well I couldn't understand. Again I was forcing myself to try and understand catching 1 every 15 words, but it wasn't as laborious with them. I assisted him, handing him whatever he needed. As he was translating the stories and jokes back and forth he casually injected anesthetic in the lawyer's big toe and ripped it open with scissors and dug under the nail bed for the stray piece of nail, as thick, glossy blood rushed out my stomach did cartwheels. I am still amazed by the fact that doctors can dis attach from these situations, turn off the human in them and then turn it back on. They hugged and kissed me goodbye like I was their child going off to the war and then left. Another complementary medical treatment.
During the "surgery" his Aunt came home for the first time since I'd arrived. A very sweet, busy and lively woman in her late 50s. To my surprise she could speak English well, but I could tell she was holding back out of shyness about her pronunciation. Later the doc told me that when she heard I was coming a month ago begged him to rent a nicer apartment and new Volkswagen to make me more comfortable because I was from the U.S. I laughed in disbelief but he insisted it was true, she told him he'll regret it once the rich American girl shows up and can't deal this squalor. That explained a lot because throughout the day she was constantly dropping everything to fix me a sandwich, tea, make my bed, wash my clothes, she even requested that I make a list of all my favorite meals for her to make. I insisted I'd eat whatever they had not to worry about it.
He printed out a questionnaire 12 sentences long in spanish, about PAW (Post Acute Withdrawal syndrome..which basically means prolonged withdrawal symptoms after your body is done detoxing). He translated each sentence quickly and then told me that I needed to learn them in order to make "Dr. Fitzsimmons's patient interviews" smoother. Riiiight. As my tongue clumsily stumbled through the pronunciation of each sentence and I kept stopping to be reminded what different sentences even meant, I could hear his aunt giggling in the kitchen and reassuring me that she feels the same with english. We did a mock interview, he would answer the questions in spanish and say something like "well, I'm not sure if I feel difficulty with coordination, please explain what you mean." And I would just go on to the next question, I not only had very little idea of what I was saying but could understand even less of what the answers were. AY DIOS MIO. We took a break out of my frustration and he said "Well take a few more minutes to familiarize yourself, we're leaving for the hospital soon." I'm sorry? I'm doing this today? I don't get a day or 2 of rehearsal? He laughed at me and gave me a very long answer in the form of a story "If I want to know what your sandwich tastes like tell me how can you explain it to me......."yadayadayada the lesson is you must experience it yourself to know. I got that familiar weight on my chest that feels like bricks being stacked on my sternum, the same feeling I used to get in theatre when I was forced to perform with nothing prepared.
I practiced my questions all the way to the rehab hospital, it was just that less of a rehab "house" more of a hospital. Ghost hunting in an abandoned psych ward, that's what came to mind when we stepped in. Wall to wall cement, dark, restraintment straps everywhere. This was the second most expensive and celebrated rehab clinic in the country...my god.
The group room looked like a school cafeteria with a pool table, metal chairs and a TV. There we found our 1st targets for the interview. Three men stared at me, shaking with tremors, tired and terrified. Doc gave us a long intro in spanish, something about Dr. Fitzsimmons conducting interview all over the world, apparently I'm off to Chile next. As the questions tumbled out of my mouth clumsily doc had to repeat every question to them, they had no clue what I was saying, some how I understood their answers and scribbled them down on my very official clip board with my Lexapro labeled pen.
We attended one of the nightly AA meetings held in the garden, which are open to the public. It was packed, I guess that shouldn't be a shock-the doc informed me that 80% of Guatemalans have alcohol problems..80%! 8 out of 10 people. I sat in and tried my damnedest to understand what was being said, to no avail. They celebrated one member's 8 years of sobriety and we all feasted on tamales- which were nothing like Mexican tamales, they were corn husks filled with this mix of corn paste, seasoning and tomato mixed together.
We evaluated everything we saw and related it back to PAW (Post Acute Withdrawals). I tried to focus as we discussed further plans for our ibogaine clinic, but my head was dead tired from a the day. He told me the responsibilities he expected from me once our clinic was running, beginning with screening our patients;taking their blood pressure, testing their blood sugar level, taking a blood sample- that's where I stopped him to tell him I hadn't the first clue as to how I would begin any of this...in the U.S. we have machines for these things. His jaw dropped, "So you have never given an injection?" I shook my head, he paused and stared at me "WHY?" I answered "Uh the opportunity never arose" he shook his head in disbelief, "So you mean to tell me that if I went into cardiac arrest alone with you I would die?" I nodded my head. He gasped and said "No no no no Christine...you will learn all of these things tomorrow and it will be your job to perform them at our clinic."
Ay Dios Mio, Oy Vey, I'm Fucked...however you want to say it.

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.