My Boy, My Hero!!! pt 3

So, here we are once again. For those who have missed out, check out the two previous postings to catch up. (Im lazy to link at the moment).

We finally arrived at the health center only to be faced with a nurse that seemed unable to treat me adequately because of my weight.( Im no slim chicken but then again Im not immobile from weight...Im a size 20 to 22 depending on my last meal...sigh.) However, she kept going on and on about my size claiming she was unable to insert an IV because I was fat, she was unable to get my blood pressure because I was fat...unable to draw blood properly because...you got it...I was too fat. Then she made the medically sound declaration that my recent spate of intense vomiting was due to fast food and I should just cut that out right now...and I would be fine. She was all set to send me home with Panadol, more Maalox, and a kick in the ass for daring to be fat when a doctor happened to stroll in curious to see what was up. (why a doctor hadnt been called previously...I dont know...Im just the victim...I mean patient).

By this time, I might add, the husband had showed up demanding to know what had been done, what was wrong with me etc. He and the doc came in just about the same time. Doc checked me over, pressed on my abdomen...and declared I could either go home with the meds prescribed (by the nurse no less) or go to the emergency room at the main hospital if I felt that was called for...(if I felt like it was called for mind you...not him).

Well, hmmmm, lets see. Serious SERIOUS pain, vomiting like nobody's business, sweating a rainforest, and there was that whole "alien wanting to get out of my body" business to think about ...so yes...Im thinking I do feel like I should go to the emergency room.

The doc offered to let the Health Centers ambulance take me there...what a nice gesture...sure why not. Ambulances are allowed to cut through traffic and red lights and get you there in no time flat....much easier and saves lives...or so Ive heard.

I watch tv...dont laugh.

Now, I had never required a ride in an ambulance before that day (thank God) so my only experience with it was what I had seen on tv regarding procedure etc. You know, trained paramedics bustling around, getting you loaded on a gurney, taking your vitals, speaking in a radio to the hospital informing them of your arrival etc....oh yeah...strapping you down on the gurney so you dont fall out...things like that...very professional and all.

Here is what I got. I had to get my sick ass off the table and up onto the gurney as the two ambulance looking type guys gave me verbal encouragement. (no hands on help over here I guess) My husband had disappeared after the doctor so wasnt there to lend a hand. I was loaded into the ambulance in which the gurney was strapped in...but not me. The door was closed and we took off.

I say we as in the driver and I because for all I knew we were the only two people in the ambulance. Nobody was back there with me. My husband had been told we were off to the hospital emergency room so he left on his own.

Now on a good day (light traffic etc) it takes about 20 minutes to get to the hospital from the health center...thats without being in an ambulance with a siren wailing etc. With traffic obviously more...but just how much more boggles the mind. I have learned over the years here in Bahrain that people really do not care about seeing an ambulance with lights and siren on in their rearview mirror. They wont make any attempt to move...and the ambulance ends up stuck in traffic right along with everyone else. I have lost count of the number of times I have moved out of the way only for cars behind me to quickly jump forward and fill the gap rather than let the ambulance through. Its disgusting...and now I was inside one needing to get to the hospital. My husband informed me later that it took us about 40 minutes to arrive there....it doesnt take 40 minutes to get from Hidd to Hamad Town (a city down south in Bahrain).

Meanwhile, if you have ever wondered what it would feel like to be inside an ambulance lying on a gurney and seriously sick...and NOT have any sort of belt etc to hold you in safely...if your wondering what that would feel like...let me tell you....its like being inside a washing machine. Bahrain is full of round abouts (circular type intersections)...not to mention just very very bad driving standards...and so between the driver hitting the brakes frequently, going around round abouts every few moments, and dealing with irate drivers not wanting to get out of the way...I was left on my own to prevent myself from falling out onto the floor.

So picture this. Me, seriously sick. Hijab askew, no strength... trying to pathetically brace myself against the sides etc everytime we traversed a round about so I wouldnt add insult to injury and find myself face first on the floor.

This went on for a good 35 minutes (based on what my husband said as we arrived at the hosp soon there after) when I vomitted once again leaning my head over and letting it hit the floor rather than myself. It was then that I realized there was in fact someone else back there with me as a hand swiftly came out with some towels and wiped up the mess.

WTF!!! Im killing myself trying not to fall down, Im sick, tired, ready to call it a day...and thinking Im actually alone so trying to make the best of it and be patient...and the whole time there was a man sitting somewhere up by my head (I think the hijab swimming around constantly in my face actually blocked me from seeing him or even being aware he was there)...but still...he KNEW I was there and did nothing to help me...until I threw up on his clean floor....ARRRRRGH!!!

I would have chewed him out at this point but we arrived at last...to my hoped for salvation...yaay!!! Everyone cheer...this is good news! Or is it?

The TWO ambulance guys (I realized that since there were two at the health center then there were two all along...but since I had other things to think about it didnt cross my mind that there was in fact someone in there other than the driver...and since he wasnt doing anything for me...who can blame me) pushed me inside and just before leaving me on an emergency bed...patted my leg and gave me some platitudes about "be patient and everything will turn out fine"..yeah...thanks...appreciate the sincerity. Anyways...

I was finally at the hospital where hopefully all would be made right again...except for one thing...I was completely alone and would remain so for at least 20 minutes. No nurse, no doctor...just a few curious bystanders taking a good look at the obvious distressed western woman but not offering any sage advice or help...sigh!!! My husband finally tracked me down after discovering the drivers and asking them where they had left me.

I might add that on tv when ambulance drivers bring a patient...they are always calling out info to the docs...cause of injury...stats...things like that. In other words, giving the docs a heads up as to what they were facing. None of that happened with me. A pat on the leg and away they went...of course there was no doctor to fill in anyhow....or nurse...so what were they to do?

Husband went off to track down a doc and drag him back (which he literally had to do I found out later). This IS the emergency room right...in a very large

hospital...the MAIN hospital for Bahrain where all emergency cases go? hmmm?

While alone I felt the rising need to vomit once again...I turned my head to look around but there wasnt anything available to receive my "gift" and so ended up leaning over the bed and extending my gift to the floor (I was so embarrassed to do that for some reason...dont ask me why...there it is). I figured that because I had been vomitting all morning...had ate nothing previously...that the contents of my stomach were pretty much expelled. So imagine my surprise and utter shock when I enacted a scene from The Exorcist and spewed out a shit load of green vomit...at least a gallon of it...no lie!!! The whole floor in my cubicle was absolutely covered in it.

The curious bystanders now had something a little more interesting to look at since the novely of ME had worn off to some extent.

I might add that it was about at this point that I was very thankful indeed that I did not have diarreha to deal with as well...see...silver linings in every trauma.

Within a few minutes after that fun experience the husband showed up literally dragging a doctor (actually had his white jacket clenched up in his fist)...the doc took one long look at me...had a serious thoughtful moment to contemplate the nice piece of artwork on the floor (courtesy of me), listened for a brief explanation from the husband about my wonderful morning so far...and declared that my pancreas was about to rupture and I needed emergency treatment...

Gee! Ya think?!!!

Long story short (as if) I spent 10 days in hospital. Was informed by, what I refer to as a REAL doctor, that had I suffered much longer I would probably have died...it was that close.

Ok ok....here is the truly appalling aspect of this whole ordeal. Never mind the two ladies that delayed me so long with some erroneous belief that my "modesty" was more important than my emergency...never mind the bitchy nurse that insisted her incompetence was due to my weight...never mind the traumatic ambulance ride courtesy of inefficient ambulance workers....the one thing that pisses me off more than all of that is ...all of this could have been avoided if each and everyone of the doctors I had visited over the past year had actually taken the time to listen to me and hear what I was saying...because I was telling them EXACTLY what was wrong with me and they still had no clue.

While in hospital the doctors who cared for me informed me that not only had my pancreas been suffering for quite awhile but that my gall bladder would need removing because of the prolonged assualt without treatment. It was getting set to explode on me...my pancreas acting up and nearly causing my death was the only thing that brought my gall bladder into the spotlight...not one of those doctors I had previously visited had ever even mentioned my gall bladder or pancreas to me..not once.

Now heres the "funny" bit that pisses me off. Once I realized what was wrong with me as soon as I got home I looked up pancreas and gall bladder disorders etc. Under pancreatitis are almost word for word the exact symptoms I had been listing to my doctors again and again....painful to lay down...feels better when I sit up (which meant I was attempting to sleep sitting up more often then not)...felt like this...acted like that...occurred most often when I did this or that etc...WORD FOR WORD people. It was right there in black and white...with pictures no less.

I was in shock!!! Its not like I had some obscure illness that had doctors scratching their heads and doing countless tests and exams trying to figure out this medical conundrum...I had a fairly common (not common as in everyone has it...common as in its well known medically) illness that with even a bit of question asking...examinations or tests etc...would have been diagnosed and treated.

Instead I got buckets of maalox and addictive painkillers...and I almost died.

Unfortunately, malpractice medical lawsuits are almost unheard of here...and because patient medical records are sketchy at best (at least in health centers for expats etc and from my personal experience) there really was no way to be compensated for this gross case of negligence and medical malpractice.

I survived...thank God...but you can understand now why I am extremely leary with all things medical in this country.

My 3 year son acted more responsibly then all those others I had the misfortune of crossing paths with that day...for that...he is my hero!!!

btw my spell check is not working...I apologize for any missed corrections as well as the spacing so forgive me for the long paragraphs once again.

Higher Pay for Continued Incompetence...Only in Bahrain!

In todays GDN we find what can only be a late April Fool's joke being played out to the masses...MP's might possibly be getting yet ANOTHER pay rise!!!

Shock!!! Horror!!! Didnt see that one coming...did you?

http://gulf-daily-news.com/NewsDetails.aspx?storyid=250813

These MP's have been one chucklefest after another...and I have yet to open a newspaper and not want to slap my forehead in complete and utter dismay at yet another "law" these bafoons are trying to pass off on the masses.

Everything from banning pork and alcohol, mannequins, preventing bachelors from hanging underwear in view of any passerbys and also wanting to corral them all up in little towns etc so they dont harrass the locals (huh)...wanting to force same sex doctors on us...not to mention keeping a keen lookout for the gays that are trying to sneak in the country (how come lesbians are not treated with a similar amount of discrimination)...among other things. It seems the MP's became our religious leaders almost overnight...who appointed them the moral lawmakers of society?

Are there any restrictions on what this Court of Jesters can pass to build up their own personal fortunes? Is anyone paying attention to this craziness? And more importanly...

How can I become an MP ????

The only thing these MP's have manged to do...is give future MP's the green light and knowledge that they will soon have the same opportunity to make themselves rich while making the masses even more miserable then we already are...nice!!

When the Doctor Makes You Think....hmmmm?

Over the many years residing in Bahain Ive had recourse to seek medical help on many occasions. Usually the outcome was good and I was happy with the results...other times Ive sat there (or writhed around on the floor or was curled up on the bed unable to move...you get the point) and wondered if this person in front of me was a REAL doctor or just someone that wandered into the hospital, donned a white coat and plastic smile, and had thus far gone undetected? It happens...so dont laugh at me.

Most of the time Im left with the feeling the doc know his or her stuff and is in full command of the situation..other times I feel like I need to start hunting for another facility...or at the very least...start googling my symptoms on my phone and clue the doc in...point him in the right direction so to speak...(I got my story there so once again...dont laugh).

When it comes to my own health and health concerns Im way too flexible (lazy)and lenient about proper care and treatment...I will let things slide and drag on quite awhile before I get up enough desire (or endure enough pain) to drag myself to the doc. Usually after friends and family have had to practically drag me there under extreme protest and foot dragging. Im like that.

Now..when it comes to my children its a completely different story.. One sniffle or stomach cramp and they find themselves sitting in a doctors office before they know what hits them. (this does not include children that try and pull one over on Mom by faking symptoms or trumping up minor ones to get out of doing something...you know who you are). Unfortunately Ive had my fair share of, what I assume to be quack doctors, sit in front of me disguised as a Pediatricians just as often as not. The things that these doctors come up with....some actions they take...and conclusions they come up with just leave me wanting to scream and run for the nearest door....however....now and then they just completely floor me with the some completely off the wall questions...questions that just make me say....Um? Here is a short, but by no means complete, list of such moments.

1. When my son was 6 months old I awoke in the morning to discover his soft spot (fontanel) had swollen considerably over night. It was severely protruding from his head...any idiot could easily see it. (I was seriously considering my little "demon child" was sprouting his devilish horn at last...late bloomer that he was...for some reason he doesnt find that in the least funny...sigh). Anyhow...I rushed him to the hospital imagining the worst...sat down in front of doc with my swollen headed kid...the doc looks my son up and down and asks...."ok...why have you brought your child in today?"... Um? Well lets see. When I pointed out what I assumed to be the obvious...he smiled at me and said..."your such an observant mom to see that and bring him in so quickly". Really? Do I get a cookie now? I would seriously like to meet the mom...any mom (any person)...that would NOT be observant enough to see such a swelling...anyhow. Turns out he had viral meningitis and spent a week in the hosp. That, my friends, is a story for another time all by itself....sigh.

2. When my other son was also around 6 months old I took him to a specialist because he had been sick for quite some time and the local clinic was not getting anywhere with finding the cause. I was stressed out and worried because, among other symptoms, he had blood in his stool. I didnt have money for a specialist but begged for it just to get to the bottom of his symptoms after suffering for so long. Soooo.....sitting there in front of this serious confident sincere doctor who was talking with a calm voice and making me relax and believe I had finally found someone that would take all this seriously...right in the middle of discussing tests that would be done and possible outcomes and treatments etc...the doc looks at my (ex)husband and I and asks..."whose idea was it to name your son Adam?" ...Um?....mine. Ive wanted to name my first son Adam since forever...but what has that got to do with anything right now? "Its a very old name you know...not very common among Arabs though...so I was just wondering whose idea it was"...he added...well that would be me...my idea...and btw its the OLDEST name there is. So now that we have that out of the way...back to my son and his illness...gee thanks.

3. When my daughter was 4 she stepped on a piece of glass and managed to cut out quite a chunk of meat from her foot. It was horrible and bleeding terribly. After sitting in the emergency room for hours...the doc comes up (after literally dragging him there)..takes one look and says..."did she cut her foot?"...um? Im thinking...yes. His powers of observation were almost as good as mine when I "diagnosed" my son with the swollen head.

4. When my daughter was 3 she swallowed a whole bottle of Ibuprofen 400 mg. (I might add that this daughter was known throughout her childhood for putting absolutely everything in her mouth...this was just one episode of many). We rushed her to the hospital and the doc ordered her stomach to be pumped. Afterwards he gave me a large glass of liquid charcoal and told me to try and get her to drink as much as possible to absorb whatever remained of the meds. He told me she probably would refuse and I needed to make sure she got as much as possible. Ok...no problems. I handed her the glass and told her.."baby, mommy needs you to drink this ok...it will make you feel better". Imagine everyones surprise when my daughter took the glass and drank the whole thing down...hardly pausing along the way. They all clapped and cheered and the doc looks at me and asks..."have you given this to her before?"...Um?...yeah...I keep liquid charcoal at home and give it out only as a special treat when the kids are being extra good.

5. My son had quite a few injuries as a child from his unquenchable desire to climb anything and everything. He also apparently preferred the express descent over the slow and cautious one. Consequently...he's has his fair share of stitches and mild concussions. There was one period of time that I actually had him in the emergency room 3 TIMES in one week with injuries that required a few stitches. Thankfully this isnt America or I might have been charged with child abuse...whew! Dodged a bullet there. Anyhow...after the third trip there (but by no means last) the doc, while looking over his file says..."looks like hes been injuring himself since before he was born"...Um? yeah...you cant imagine how many times he needed stitches after climbing my ribs and falling down and smacking his head on my pelvic bone while in my uterus.

Im happy to note that I havent had to take them for anything too serious of late...with everything else going on in my life...I think Im right at that point where I would not hesitate to smack the doc upside the head and head for the door.

Sometimes You Just Gotta Go With the Punch!!!...pt 2

So there I was...standing in the door way looking first from one hostile face to another (this would be SIL and oldest teen daughter) and then to Chief of Police, who had a very neutral look which he was perusing me with...but a very sharp glint in his eyes. I cannot describe even close to adequate the very nauseous feeling I had that things were going to get worse before they got better. At least I got to pee first...theres that!!!

I was invited to sit down, which I did with a great deal of hesitancy...sort of like sitting down reduced drastically my opportunities for escape...if only. At this point I was wondering if "pleading the 5th" was an acceptable answer for any or all questions that were going to start coming my way...hmmmm?

All this time daggers of outrage were being thrown my way with deadly accuracy by SIL who was no doubt contemplating the many ways she would make me pay for not staying put in the car. Im not a mind reader by nature but it wasnt hard to understand what she was thinking...if looks could kill and all that. Of course she was probably secretly happy that I was there...now the interfering foreign wife that she never wanted or agreed to for her brother was possibly going to get either thrown in jail or deported...or both...oh happy days!! Like I said...wasnt hard to read her face.

Im wondering at this point just what those two had told the Police Chief up to this point...the thing about being the late comer to the party...you have no idea what happened before you arrived and why everyone is either celebrating the greatness of the "never to be forgotten" party...or totally pissed off and several divorces have been announced due to excessive drinking and forbidden advances and invitations given.

Police Chief was sitting there looking at me with both hands under his chin...both of his index fingers pressed against his mouth as if in deep contemplation. It must have been a full minute before he said a word to me....and his English was pretty damn good (something I wasnt use to back then as many adults were not taught adequate English way back in the day...whatever).

Anyhow, his first question to me was whether or not I knew these two ladies sitting here beside me. My mind quickly searched for the pros and cons of admitting my relationship with them (such as it was) and as much as I would love to have answered "I have no friggin clue who they are...I just wandered in to use the bathroom"...I figured he might be just good enough at his job to see right through that...damn. So I slowly said....yeeeees! and crossed my fingers.

Second question was whether I knew what had happened and what I had seen. Hmmm? Tricky because I didnt know what they had said...mine field here...tread lightly. So I did the only thing I thought would get me out of this precarious position with freedom still an option...I told the truth...up to a point...lol.

I told him that there had been arguing and shouting and lots of drama but that I didnt understand Arabic adequately enough to really know what all the screaming was about. I just stood back and watched...a helpless bystander to the unfolding events. Once again his fingers came up to cover his mouth and he studied me again for a moment or two. *breath in...breath out....slooooowly*

I realize that there is a large portion of the American public that have never ever travelled outside the country and really have no clue what it means to be THE foreigner under police scrutiny. Thoughts of jail is the least of your worries. Bahrain has a rep for not being too kind with its foreign criminals when it comes to crimes committed against nationals. It matters very little if the national "started it" etc...what ever "it" was...as the foreigner you are guilty...plain and simple. (it has improved somewhat this 23 years...but not a whole lot). So while I knew that lying could very well end me in more hot water then telling the truth...I decided I would risk it (dont ask my why...Im known for making very bad decisions...story of my life and all that).

When he asked me did I know anything about the man that had been punched in the nose...I did my best innocent look (Im told its not that great...sigh) and said Im not sure...everything was so crazy...and dark...and lots of people...and an ice cream truck drove by...that sort of distracted me...and I was thinking about what I would cook for dinner...so theres that....and the point Im making if you havent caught it yet is that I was babbling...because Im not a very good liar at the best of times...and this certainly wasnt a good time for it.

Again the two index fingers came up to the mouth...and he studied me some more.
He asked me some other questions...how long had I been in Bahrain...did I like it (not a good question to ask me under the current circumstances eh?) ...did I miss America and was I positive I knew nothing about the assault. He threw that last one in there sneakily like I wouldnt notice and answer without thinking....but my brain was buzzing from all the careful thinking I was engaged in..Not catching me that easy...you gotta work to trip me up...mewwwwahhhhh!!! Im just saying...sigh.

Answer answer answer...breath in and out...blink a few times...try and control heart rate...and count the seconds until I simply passed out from anxiety.

The Chief asked a few more questions about the incident...what I thought was going on...did I understand any of what was being shouted...and did I know anything about the guy punched in the nose. (again with the sneaky question)....answer answer answer...breath breath breath...!!!...all the while in the back of my mind was the very doable fantasy of me making a run for the door...grabbing a taxi...speed like mad to the house and grab my kid, passports and head for same airport I had excitedly visited a few hours before...and rush through customs and get safely on the plane before these clowns could even scratch their heads and or think about reacting...I could totally do it...totally!!!

Now at some point it dawned on me that this Chief was no idiot...he knew very well that I was the one that had punched the man in the face...all though at this point he hadnt actually asked me directly if I had indeed punched the guy in the nose. I found that odd when I thought about it the next day. (I found out later that the man in question was already in the police station screaming about a crazy English lady that had assaulted him for no reason)...it didnt take a genius to add 2 and 2 and get 4...just how many "English" ladies were present in the parking lot and had anything remotely to do with the incident? Im guessing just 1...anyone else? I also realized that the sharp glint in his eye was also tinged with a touch of humor...could it be he didnt want to ask me directly because my answer would require him to act? Could it be he was sitting there thinking the guy maybe deserved it and punching an ass in the nose shouldnt be a punishable offense but deserving of a medal of some sort (wishful thinking I know)...could it be he just saw the humor of it all and wasnt willing to take it further which would require loads of paperwork and inquiries and me being a foreigner lots of other work that just wasnt worth it...Im thinking that one.

Anyhow...after a few more minutes of fingers on mouth reflection he said I could leave. Huge sigh of relief...I had to stop myself from running willy nilly out the door like a convict that had just realized someone had left the key in the lock for whatever reason...I thanked him...excused myself...and with as much dignity and self control as I could muster...I walked out of his office and made for the door.

Just about made it too...only another 5 feet and I would have been home free. Turns out my timing was a bit off and ex-boyfriend had just come into the lobby from his interrogation and spotted me (not that hard to do with all things considered...blazing red hair tends to not blend into...well anything...that well). He immediately started screaming and pointing his finger (the other hand was clutched over his injured nose that was covered in gauze of some sort...found out later that I had actually broken it...thats sorta cool all things considered) All though the Police Chief wasnt around just then the lobby had several other cops standing around trying not to stare at me...Im guessing that since none of them immediately came after me that they were assuming if Police Chief let me go then I must be "innocent" (snigger) and so the guy could scream all he wanted...I was free to go....and go I did. No telling what would have happened if Police Chief had come out just then...hard to ignore the evidence when the "victim" is screaming and pointing at the "criminal".

I got outside and hightailed it for the car and jumped in wishing I had the keys and to hell with how SIL and oldest teen daughter got home. Younger teen daughter was all worked up wondering how long my prison sentence was going to be and how come I wasnt wearing cuffs and all that...she had a warped sense of humor that one. I just sat there with pounding heart and equally pounding headache...and oh yeah...I had to pee again!!

Within a few minutes SIL and oldest teen daughter came out and got in the car with a bang and some ugly looks thrown my way (Im use to them ladies...Im rubber your glue and all that...nah nah nah) and headed for home. Nobody spoke which surprised me...I assumed I was in for an ass kicking...this was different.

It was about this time that I realized my hand was actually hurting quite alot. It was then I remembered that it had been aching for awhile now...I just hadnt had time or desire to focus on it...you know..impending prison sort of erases all other concerns out of your mind. I examined it and only then noticed the pretty bloom of blues and blacks all around it...especially around my pinky finger. Nicely swollen too. Could it actually be sprained...broken? Interesting thought.

At this point SIL looked over and noticed my hand as well. Now there have been very few moments in our long 23 year relationship in which she offered me any sort of kindness...whether in word or deed...so I was completely floored when she asked if I thought I needed to go to the hospital. Hmmmm? This sounded like a trick question...but I obviously needed to go so agreed that I did.

Awhile later when the doctor asked me how this happened I had a moment of panic wondering if she would call the cops when I confessed that I had just punched a national in the nose...ach! oh what tangled webs we weave when we desire to deceive....sigh! So instead I told her I fell down...simple enough. Then she looked at me like maybe I was an abused housewife and so poor me. I was willing to be viewed as a beaten housewife at that moment more than at any other time in my life...just put on the cast and let me go home. She did eventually and home we went.

It was 4 in the morning...a simple trip for some unneeded shopping had turned into something movies are made of...I had a cast on my hand (and was wondering what the Chief would have made of it if he had noticed my injured hand...maybe he did)...the added hatred of SIL piled on my head...and husband to contend with when he found out about this incident. I might add here that husband was in the military back in those days and because of the Gulf War was forced to stay at the base...so he wasnt actually home when we got home...lucky me...for now.

It was then that SIL asked me to please not inform husband of what had happened because, while she would no doubt gain immense pleasure at my ass being kicked by him...her daughter would also be "outed" for the "slut" that she was and that certainly wouldnt do. She didnt actually use those words but I got the point. I had no problems with keeping that particular adventure to myself...to my grave if need be...

Unfortunately what we plan for isnt always what we get...story of my life.

*to be continued

Boys Will be Boys

Opened up the GDN today to this horrible and disgusting story.http://gulf-daily-news.com/Story.asp?Article=244784&Sn=BNEW&IssueID=31349 Im wondering if that defense attorney, Fatima alHawaj, would be willing to subject herself to a gang rape and come out of it with the philosophy..."it was all a bit of harmless fun"? And I wonder if she would have said that if the victim had been a fellow Bahraini and not just a low class Filipino that are usually classed as "sexually available" to the Arabs they work for and among?

I also took note of the fact that the "youths" in question were 19, 20, 21...Im curious as to why MEN of this age are always described as youths in the paper here whenever they commit such heinous crimes? When exactly are boys viewed as men...whats the magic age marker for these people? And are we supposed to feel a certain degree of "aw shucks" for them because of their "youthful" age and apparent inability to control thenselves in their quest for some "harmless fun"?

Final note...with women defending men like this...women lawyers at that...with the phrase "harmless fun" the perpetuation of the belief that "boys will be boys" will never be cast aside and the action they undertook viewed exactly for what it is...a crime against a woman that has no doubt changed her life and will never be forgotten...but I dare say...if she hadnt been able to identify those 3 "boys" they would have tossed the memory of their night of harmless fun behind them and gotten a good nights sleep in the process.

Bahrain should be ashamed of itself the way sexual crimes are handled...and if I were that Filipino I would sue the ass off of one Fatima alHawaj who reduced my rape, humiliation, and lifelong memory of abuse at the hands of some locals and by the govt itself into merely an evening of "harmless fun".

This Wont Hurt a Bit!

I took my friend to the dentist tonight...she left it late as many people (including me) are prone to do...and thus was in a lot of pain. I felt her pain...literally. I have had some horrible experiences with dentists here in Bahrain....imagine that!

Growing up I never had fear of the dentist...didnt have that deep seated dread a lot of people have..not sure why but I figure that I had shit to deal with at home a hell of a lot more painful and scary then any dentist...who knows. It helped I suppose that I never had any major dental problems either. After arriving in Bahrain it was sometime before I found myself in need of a dentist. I still didnt have any real fear...but I was a bit hesitant because I had been to the local health center several times and it wasnt the most modern place in the world. Left a lot to be desired...so to speak. I was hoping they were a little more up to speed with their dental care.

Now let me explain something about myself first. Im extremely sensitive to pain...I bruise incredibly easy...when I need pain killers...I need A LOT of them for whatever reason. Get the point? I have been telling people (doctors) for years that the injections for pain they give me...or the tablets etc just dont cut it...I can still feel everything as if I didnt have any pain killer. Ive had docs tell me it was "all in my head"...once while being stitched up after delivery...the doc gave me a local anesthetic...it didnt work. She gave me another...I was ready to climb off the table. She gave me a third and I felt like every stab of the needle was in my brain. She said I had to bear it cause she couldnt give me anymore. 45 minutes later I was praying to just pass out...no such luck. Incidentally I managed to get through the 5 actual deliveries without ever once having pain killers administered. Dont ask me...I dont make the rules. I felt somewhat vindicated when I came upon an article in a medical magazine that showed a study on pain tolerance. Apparently red heads have typically had a lower tolerance for pain then non red heads. Like I said...I dont make up the rules. At least I could prove it wasnt in my head now.

Anyhow, I found out that going to the dentist was going to be a very painful experience...over and over again. Ive had several very bad episodes with dentist...everything from nearly removing the wrong tooth....to stabbing my tongue with the needle. One even managed to drill the wrong tooth...and didnt realize until he was half way done...sigh!! Needless to say...Im extremely wary about going to the dentist here. Unfortunately I cannot afford private docs (not sure they are any better here but hey...wishful thinking and all)....so its govt all the way. Im not sure if its down to ill trained dentists or just plain apathy towards doing a good job...whatever it is...the people of Bahrain are suffering...at least I am.

Anyhow, from all my terrible experiences (and unfortunately there have been too many), one sticks out a little more then the rest...picture this...

After having several very painful experiences with dentists...I declared that unless my head was falling off I was not going back unless I had money for a private (good?) dentist. Well, one of my back teeth broke and since it didnt hurt...I ignored it....for quite along time. Incidentally I find it interesting that we know going to the dentist can be a very painful adventure...and so KNOW that we should go regularly to avoid those painful moments as much as possible...but avoid going because we want to avoid pain...and end up suffering more because we didnt go when the problem was small and manageable. Still believe we are a highly evolved species...lol?

Anyhow, when I finally did go it was with extreme caution and very deep dread. I was forced to go to a govt dentist as I just didnt have the money for private...I anticipated a very bad day indeed...turns out I had no idea just how bad it could get.

When I pointed out my bad tooth she said it needed to be removed. No surprise there... I was expecting that. She gave me and injection and I waited nervously for it to take affect. She poked it declared it numb. She then preceded to extract my back tooth without first taking an X-ray like every other dentist Ive encountered has. I pointed this out to her but she said there was no need as she could clearly see what needed doing. Hey...who am I to argue...Im just the victim...I mean patient.

She probed a bit here...poked a bit there...and apparently, at some point, stabbed me in the brain through my ear when I wasnt looking. You know those cartoons that show the cat so scared it sticks to the ceiling...well if I could have shot my over sized ass up there I would have been hanging by all fours just about then. It was that bad. I swear I actually lifted off the chair at least a few inches. She jumped and asked me what was wrong...well...hmmm...lets see....you are poking around in my mouth with a sharp object...what could be my problem? I told her (I think I spoke eloquently and with decorum....but hard to tell over the screaming in my head) that it fucking hurt like hell. Not exactly those words but she got the point. So she prepared another dose of painkiller and juiced me up again. By this time my heart had stopped hammering against my chest...but was rabbit scared still and prepared to jump to it again if called into action. My fingers were gripping the seat hard enough to leave dents in the metal...Im thinking I was tense....a bit.

I tried relaxing as I know being tense just makes the pain worse...so I practiced some Lamaze breathing and passed the time imagining the many ways I could get some revenge against Ms Dentistthang over there....biting down hard on her fingers seemed like my best option...I think Ill go with that....(feeling a bit woozy now.)....back she came.

A bit more probing and poking and then she grabbed Mr Brokentooth and pulled with all her might...and thats when I heard a very VERY loud cracking sound. I actually looked up at the ceiling thinking something had broken and was going to fall down...turns out it was a little closer to home. I was clued in when Ms Dentisthang paused and said...."uh oh". Not exactly what one wishes to hear while sitting in a dentists chair. Needless to say my heart took off like a rabbit again....and was long over the hills when she stood back and said... "I will be back in a minute"....huh...what? Hello?

I sat there for an eternity. She came back maybe 2 minutes later with back up. 2 other dentists were with her and they all gathered round my freaked out countenance and each had a good look inside my mouth. A bit of mumbled discussion between them (in Arabic so I didnt catch the whole gist of it being distracted somewhat by visions of cracked skulls or something) some more poking and prodding and eventually came to the belated conclusion that I needed an X-ray taken. Ya think?

10 minutes later...X-rays in hand...it was declared that I needed to scoot myself over to the emergency dept at Sulmania Hospital because Ms Dentistthang had broken MY JAW!!! Yeah ....I know...WTF!!!!

Turns out ...if she had bothered to X-ray me first she would have noticed that the tooth had actually fused to my jaw bone due to a previous infection. When she pulled the tooth...she pulled a large chunk of my jaw bone along with it. I was sort of wondering at this point why the hell I wasnt screaming my friggin ass off from the pain Im sure accompanied broken jaw bones...well it seems she had injected me with a more powerful drug the second time...so all was good for the moment....but I was encouraged to get over to Sulmania ASAP!

Now heres the funny part folks...(funny strange not funny ha ha)...after having put me through the trauma of breaking my jaw...in which I might add I was losing a shit load of blood over (the nurse was kind enough to stuff a mattress full of cotton in my mouth...and gave me some more in my hand)...they now apparently expected me to drive MYSELF over to the ER. They actually pointed me in the direction of the front door and encouraged me once again to make haste...time was apparently against me. WTF!!! I asked her (you might be surprised but its rather hard to talk with a broken jaw, numb and swollen mouth and a pound of cotton in your mouth) if it might not be too much bother to take me there as I didnt feel I could drive myself (maybe they can do that shit on TV, but I wasnt risking it)...she said it was against govt policy to drive patients anywhere. Ok...how about the ambulance...I wouldnt mind going that way. Nope...sorry...it was out...somewhere. So I asked if I could call my (ex)husband to come take me. Ok...fine...heres the phone.

So, in a very surreal frame of mind I called him and tried to explain in my broken, swollen, numb voice that he needed to come get me quick like as I needed to go to Sulmania...he said he was on the way. I hung up and went and sat down. I had some serious meditating to do. Not to mention this whole time I was contemplating the very real pain that was no doubt going to come storming on like a freight train any moment now.

Well...about 20 minutes passed and one of those dentists came down the hall and stopped abruptly when she seen me. "Why are you still here" she quickly asked. "You really need to get to the ER as soon as possible...ok". Uhmmmm.... Im waiting for my husband because nobody here was willing to take me, I mumbled out to her (that sailed over head I guess as she ignored my jab)...."well tell him to hurry...no time to lose". Well ok then...another phone call and I was asking him where he was. He said he got delayed and was on the way. Ok but did you understand what I told you earlier...THEY BROKE MY JAW!! I guess those words finally penetrated his thick skull as he paused a moment in his dialogue long enough to ask...."They What?" Finally I had his attention...now we are getting somewhere. He said he was on the way...seriously.

When he arrived he took one look at me and set about letting every member of the hosp have an earful of promises of suing and newspapers being notified of their lax work habits...blah blah blah...hey...Im bleeding to death here and the lingering affects of the injection, all though pleasant, cant last much longer. Lets go already.

He broke a few speed records (nothing new for Bahrain) and we arrived at the ER. I had been sitting with a broken jaw for about an hour and 45 minutes by this time. The clock on the painkiller was ticking. This whole time I had been methodically removing and then inserting fresh cotton as the old ones would quickly soak with blood. I was light headed and nauseous....and totally wiped out.

Well after much toing and froing in the hosp we managed to get seen by a surgeon who declared that I had lost too much blood and too weak to undergo the surgery today...I had to stay over night and have surgery to repair my jaw in the morning...yay me. The day was getting better and better. Nothing like a night in the hosp to improve ones mood. I was IV'd and given a sleeping tablet or something...it pretty much knocked me out whatever it was. I spent the night laying on my side so that all the blood and saliva could drain out onto a towel rather than down my throat and possibly drown me. Happy days!!!

To quickly end this saga...the next morning I had surgery. Woke up with a cheek swollen like a squirrel with a load of nuts in its cheeks. My children couldnt stop from giggling every time they looked at me...creeps!!! Incidentally, whoever the brainiac was that put my IV in had missed the vein apparently and all the fluid was collecting in my forearm. I had a water balloon of skin hanging down...oh joy!!! When I pointed this out to the nurse...she removed that IV and prepared to put in another one...I dont think so. I refused and huffed her way out the door.

We attempted to get some recourse from the Ministry of Health over this incident. No luck...apparently everyone did their job "to the best of their ability" and so no blame could be placed. If that was the best they could do...well hell...next time I will just tie my tooth to a passing bus and take my chances...couldnt do much worse Im thinking.

So you see...I hate going to the dentist. Problem is...I need to go again...and since I dont have a job these days...its back to the govt dentist. Oh joy!!!

Dont Look Down When the Sun Comes Up

My youngest daughter and middle son just celebrated bdays. Her 15th and his 17th. I was just sitting here wondering how it came to be that they are that old? Wasnt it just yesterday they were running through the house half naked with coloring markers all over themselves and nice artwork left on the walls for Mommy to admire...and clean off? God how I miss their childhoods.

Anyhow, it got me to thinking about the past and suddenly a memory came up that I hadnt thought of in quite awhile. I realize looking back that its rather a miracle that the 3 of us are here.

See, one night, around 13 years ago, with a full bright moon and crispy snow on the ground...we nearly went into the black. Picture this...

Has anyone driven through Wyoming up into Montana during the winter? Its got to be some of the more treacherous driving there is...especially considering Montana doesnt have a speed limit on the open highways(at least they didnt 13 years ago...not sure about now). Put the lead down to your hearts content...just remember once your into Wyoming...better slow down. The highway patrol in the big square state dont take kindly to scraping speeders off the highway just over the border from Montana....anyhow....

I had been staying with my older sister for a few weeks down in Wyo (grew up there you know) and had to return to Montana on the spur of the moment (was living there at the time). I didnt really have time to prepare for the trip adequately being in a hurry (thats another story...the reason for the haste) and couldnt make arrangements for the two younger ones to be looked after so was forced to take them with me. I threw two laundry baskets of clean clothes in the car...some snacks and necessities for the kids and off I went. It was to be one of the most heart stopping nights of my life...no lie.

I can no longer remember the highway numbers and road names etc (40 year old brain full of sand) so dont ask me exactly where I was when I took the wrong turn. Considering I had driven that route before a few times Im not even sure how I managed to make the wrong turn...but there it is...fate, destiny, the Hand of God...or maybe just two noisy kids in the back seat distracting me....whatever.

By this time it was around 11 pm and the night was cold and crispy with a beautiful full moon lighting up the road...which was becoming increasingly more narrow and headed upwards. It was about here that I realized things didnt look right so suspected I needed to turn around and retrace my steps...see where things went wrong. Well things were about to get much worse.

Im well aware that driving on snow is a dangerous activity at the best of times...but throw in unfamiliar territory, shaken nerves (reason for the trip), and the late hour...and its all you need to make a mistake. My mistake was to hit the brakes just a little too hard in order to slow down and turn around....I immediately went into a slide. I actually wasnt going that fast to begin with because I knew I was headed the wrong way so probably wasnt doing more then 30 at the time...but it was fast enough to put the car into a slide...and we were headed straight for the side of the road....that was pitch black.

The car did a complete turn and I had just enough time to think, Oh God!!! before slamming up against a snowbank...and came to a stop with the car tilted just awkwardly downward...with snow piled up against my drivers door. I nearly screamed at the prospect of the snow giving way and the car continuing its slide over the side...which, as I mentioned was pitch black. I couldnt see anything out my window except blackness. I couldnt see where the snow bank ended...if there were trees...if there was a ditch running along the road...nothing. The not knowing what was out there is a terrifying feeling ...believe me. Imagination going full throttle and all.

My heart was literally pounding out of my chest...I didnt dare to breath believing any sort of movement would start the car sliding again. I actually held my breath (without realizing it of course) until I nearly passed out...and had to let it go in an explosive release...which literally scared the shit out of me (dont believe me...just wait)...and I waited with breath held again to see if the car would stay put or not.

I dont really know how long I sat there without moving a single muscle...I was breathing in shallow breaths...trying not to even let my diaphragm be the deciding factor that tipped the scales in favour of gravity. I couldnt even reach out to put the car in park...the fact that it was still in drive terrified me and I slowly....ever so slowly, slid my foot away from the pedal believing I would accidentally hit the accelerator and that would be that. And I just sat there...my mind utterly blank as to what to do...how to save myself and my two small children...who were incidentally asleep in the back seat. To say that I was thankful for that small miracle is no lie...can you imagine if those two toddlers had been awake...there is no way I could have kept them from bouncing around in the car...the result of that too horrifying to contemplate....I prayed they would stay asleep...and for the ingenuity of Mcgyver to get us out of this danger. I was blank...and on the verge of a mental melt down.

Im thinking at least an hour passed before I got up the nerve to reach across and put the car in park. I did it so slowly...like a expert bomb diffuser...sweat dripping and breath shallow. For some reason I felt safer with the car in park...dont ask my why..probably just because I felt like I had DID something. Action is always better than inaction you know. So then I sat there for another hour or so (I think...who knows).

It was then I noticed the gas gauge was nearly on empty. My God if the gas ran out it was going to be horribly cold in the car in no time...and I hadnt brought blankets etc thinking I wouldnt need them. Now I vacillated between plunging to our deaths (depending on the incline) or freezing to death in the car and nobody finding us till Spring. I hadnt seen a single car come by up to this point obviously.

Now, this is the somewhat funny part (its been a riot so far right)....I had to go to the bathroom...seriously. Remember earlier when I said I got the shit scared out of me...that was no lie folks...I very nearly shit my pants when faced with the prospect of going over the side of the road into the black...up till then I had ignored the fact that I seriously needed to defecate if I didnt want to add one more misery to my night by shitting in my pants. I know it sounds crazy now...but hey...it was a crazy night.

So I sat there for another good half hour wondering if there was anyway I could maneuver myself out of the car in order to relieve myself...and of course that could entail risking moving the car enough to jostle it loose from the snow bank. Not to mention Im not the most athletic person in the world...so getting my ass across the seat to the passengers side and getting the door open seemed akin to climbing Mount Everest. Making that first move was torture...

Dont know how long it took me but I eventually got myself over there...with much pausing and holding of breath to see what the car was going to do about my recent clumsy move...it held. Once I got myself situated by the passenger door...I contemplated the act of opening it...and disturbing the balance of the car...and then thought about hefting myself out of the car...and disturbing the balance some more. I know this all sounds bizarre now...but I was burning up some braincells thinking about all the "what ifs" (theres that damn game again). Heres a truly strange thought....what the hell would I do even if the car started going over? Both the kids were in the back seat asleep...the sheer speed and dexterity I would need to throw myself out...open their door and drag them both out was something Im sure only Tom Cruise or Van Disel could manage with any hope of succeeding. In a bizarre way I felt as if I was protecting them by being in the car with them...but as soon as I got out of it they would be vulnerable to...it didnt bear thinking about....but I seriously needed to GO. I eased myself out....

The car stayed put....I stood there for a few moments looking at them sleeping in the back seat...seriously considering taking them out to remove them from the danger of going over with the car....but it was freezing outside. Already my teeth were chattering and the cold was seeping into my feet through my shoes. At least in the car they were warm...as long as the gas held out. I left them and went to the back of the car...to do my business and to try and determine just how deep in the shit we were...no pun intended. Pulling your pants down in the middle of the night on a moon shined snowy road thats so quiet all you hear is the crunch of your shoes in the snow is truly awesome...no lie. You still have the feeling someone is going to come along and catch you with your pants down...even though you feel like your completely alone in the world...and likely to stay that way. Eerily enough...I felt like hundreds of eyes were watching me...well it was the "wild" so who knows.

I checked the side of the car but it was completely black on that side...all I could see was the wonky angle of the car...and snow up to the door...nothing at all down the side of the road. I walked back to the passenger door and thought about getting back into a car that might likely plummet me to my death...but the fact that my two children were in there cast my hesitation away...I had no choice...it was too cold...and if they woke up I needed to keep them as still as possible. I eased back in...and sat there...for around 2 hours I believe...dont ask me what was going through my mind...I have no idea. Then the car turned off...the gas had run out.

In barely half an hour I was shaking with chattering teeth...shock no doubt contributing to my rapid decline...but amazingly the kids were still asleep and seemed to be warm enough...all cuddled up to each other.

I was seriously starting to wonder if anyone used this road other than ignorant white woman who headed out on the road with two toddlers without adequately preparing for the trip or paying attention to where she was going? By 6 am the sun was just starting to distinguish the day from the night. We had made it through the night...but how long until someone came down this road...and my God I was cold!!

It was about this time that I heard a truck coming and before long I could see its lights. We were saved!!! Yay us!!! Thank God. I carefully eased out of the car again and waited for my would be saviors to crest the hill...turns out that two early morning hunters had decided to take this road to a good hunting location...yes folks...somehow or another I had managed to get myself onto a little used hunting road...dont ask me how cause I dont know either. The men were peering at me out the window of their truck as if they had came across some new species of deer...I was momentarily warmed by the flush of embarrassment that shot through me....but was willing to look the fool just to get the children and myself the hell off that mountain. It was then the sun came up enough to get a good look at where we had spent the night...Turns out the snowbank was the only thing keeping my car from plunging off into a gorge that went straight down a good few hundred feet. Now I was really feeling warm...I guess thats what impending heart attacks do...warm ya up all nice and toasty...ya think?

I quickly got over my embarrassment and got the kids out with as much grace and composure as I could...they were just waking up...and were excited to find themselves in such a pretty place...and boy it was beautiful...any other day and I might actually enjoy taking in the view...not today!!!

The hunters actually asked very few questions all though Im sure they were a hell of a lot more curious then they let on...maybe they were use to finding lost mothers on the side of mountains precariously balanced over the edges of cliffs...I dont know...sounds like a regular hunting trip to me. They bundled us up in the truck...took us back down the mountain (yes I had manged to drive up a mountain...still...dont ask me how)...and located a tow truck to sort my car out.

So looking back...I realize what a lucky night that was...so many things could have gone wrong (other than the obvious of getting lost) but it worked out...Im thinking that if I had been aware of just what was waiting for us in that dark abyss...I might not have stayed in the car...I would have freaked out and dragged the kids out no doubt...and who knows what would have happened then....but the dark hid the danger....and I stayed put in the warmth of the car...and Im still here...and the kids are still here...they dont even remember it of course...they were too young...but I certainly do.

So happy bday (belatedly) my son...my daughter...Im so glad and thankful your both still here with me...and that Im still here for you. Love you.

Side note....thats one good reason to be happy there is no snow in Bahrain...could you imagine the driving here then?