Thursday, May 25, 2006

And Then Baby Got Sick

We all got colds on our trip (yes, the big story about that is still to come). And then we all developed lingering chest coughs, that I'm reasonably certain indicate bronchitis. We all still have those coughs. So, when I took Alec to our shiny new pediatrician the day after his first birthday to see about his one year immunizations, she listened to his chest and said she wouldn't vaccinate until he got over the cough. She prescribed pediatric cough syrup and infant ibuprofen, and sent us on our way. That was a week ago today.

For three days, Alec took his meds and coughed anyway. Then Monday morning at 4, he sat up in bed and vomited. And kept vomiting. At first I wasn't too worried, because he has always had a sensitive tummy and and has already puked far more in one year than Joffre has in 3.5. Heck, he had three nights in a row after we got back from our trip where he was throwing up every night. But, by about 10 am Monday, when he started throwing up chemical-yellow bile, I got a bit worried and called the pediatrician's office. The pediatrician herself was not in (because of the paro, according to the receptionist), but I could call her on her cellphone. So, thinking that was pretty cool, I called her on her cellphone. She answered, and told me that she was in LIMA. Now, it's enough of a stretch to think that you might call your doctor's office in Vancouver on, say, a Storm Day (see post on same), be told by the receptionist that she wasn't coming in, and be given her pager number, let alone her cell number. But if that doctor had travelled to Calgary, would she still take a call from a patient? I don't think so. Anyway, the doctor told me to give Alec Children's Gravol suppositories to stop the vomiting and Pedialyte to rehydrate him. She also told me to take him off the medication we'd been giving him for the cough. She said to take him to the clinic if the vomiting didn't stop. After I got off the phone, I thought, "Gravol suppositories? Really?" Being me, I looked Gravol up online and found absolutely nothing to suggest that the suppositories were meant to be used on babies.

So, I cracked out our supply of rehydration salts, mixed some up, and discovered that - surprise! - the baby thought they were vile and wouldn't drink them. I decided to keep a close eye on him, and if he showed signs of really being sick, or of dehydration, I would get some of this Gravol. I got clear Gatorade and cut it with water, and that he drank. He threw up less frequently over the course of the day, so I thought we were in the clear. However, at ten Monday night, he started seriously vomiting again. Fearing another sleepless night, I gave him one quarter of a Children's Gravol that we had in our medicine kit - the tablets have the same amount of drug as the suppositories, so I felt I was being cautious enough - and he slept through until about 4 am, when he started throwing up again. Oh, and that was our anniversary.

Tuesday now, and I felt that Alec was basically doing okay. Plus, the paro was over, so I knew we could get wherever we needed to. He seemed fine for most of the morning, and then around noon it all went sideways and the vomiting began again in earnest. Our power also went out at about two in the afternoon, and at five showed no signs of returning. The whole district was out. I went out to buy the dreaded suppositories, and candles, and while out I ran into a fellow expat who told me that in her opinion I should be taking this kid to the hospital. So, I called up our lady at the company, and asked her where I should take him. Bless her heart, she came to our house at 6 - shortly after the power came back on - and took me to the clinic. In the clinic parking lot, however, she decided that it would take too long to go through admitting and a general doctor before getting through to pediatrics, so she called up her own pediatrician, confirmed that he was seeing patients, and took us over there. This doctor, who was at least eighty years old and completely unintelligible in Spanish or English, checked Alec over very thoroughly - there are no digital, under-the-arm baby thermometers here, I tell you - and pronounced him fever-free, not dehydrated, and suffering from bronchitis. He advised me to put baby back on the cough syrup, give him tylenol should a fever develop, and give him ten drops of Children's Gravol liquid every eight hours to stop the vomiting. He recommended rice water to keep him hydrated, which Alec miraculously enjoyed. He also gave us a form asking for various tests and gave us instructions to take a diaper in to a lab downtown for stool analysis the next day. Alec had a messy diaper at 3:00 Wednesday morning, and then seemed fine. He would not, however, take the Gravol drops. We ended up mixing it into a teaspoon of honey to get it in there. This tactic backfired, as now he won't take any medicine at all that isn't mixed with honey.

Wednesday I took the stool sample in to the lab. As with the doctors' offices, I was required to pay cash - in advance - for this service, so I now have a little stack of receipts from various consults and prescriptions waiting to be submitted to our health insurance company. The lab told me they would have the results for me to pick up after two pm. Sure enough, at 2:30 there was a little envelope waiting for me with Alec's name on it. His diaper had shown that he had no parasites or abnormalities, but that he was suffering from rotavirus. Which sounds scary, but is in fact the leading cause of vomiting and diarrhea in children three and under in developed countries, and common as dirt. By now, Alec was eating some solids again, and hadn't thrown up in 12 hours. We went to the playground with friends for a while, and that evening went back to the pediatrician's office to show him the test results. He said, "well, the kid seems better, so keep doing what you're doing, and everything should be fine."

Thursday - yesterday - Alec was cranky and restless all day, but didn't throw up. He didn't want to nurse and didn't want to sleep, and this was strange, as throughout his tummy illness he had remained happy, playful, and cuddly. He fell asleep well last night, by 8:00, and slept till about 11 before he started to toss and turn. He slept fitfully, waking us up regularly but not waking up himself, until about 3. He hadn't nursed since around four in the afternoon, and now he had a fever. So, I got some ibuprofen into him, stripped off the outer layer of pyjamas the housekeeper had bundled him into, and fed him a couple of ounces of Gatorade/water. At 4:30 he decided to nurse, and at 5:30 someone on the street started incessantly honking a horn.

Throughout all of this, I have had some kind of bronchitis - or at least, lingering chest cough - and am now painfully exhausted from a week of Very Bad Sleep. So, I will likely be going to the doctor too. Fortunately, my take on doctors here is that they are friendly, knowledgeable, and efficient, even if they are not using all the fancy electronic equipment that we know from home. Unfortunately, I think that my scepticism about the Gravol and my hesitance in taking him to the doctor at all has branded me a "bad and rebellious patient" in the eyes of the medical professionals here, who are accustomed to being able to say, "I'm going to give you a shot for that," or "take this three times a day for five days" without being questioned as to the exact nature of the drug.

Peruvians, like many Canadians, seem to feel that the slightest sign of illness with a cold or a flu is the cue to get oneself to the doctor's office post haste. The doctors, though, seem far more likely to recommend cough and cold pills and syrups that we can buy over the counter in Canada than Canadian doctors are. I'm tired of hearing everyone, from people on the street to the doctors and nurses themselves, blaming the rash of coughs and sniffly noses on the "change in the weather" and the "extreme cold" (never below 7-8 degrees C), even when they also talk about viruses.

And, of course, here as elsewhere, the average person seems to think that antibiotics are a magic bullet that will eradicate any and all illness. The tired resignation in the doctor's voice when he said, "rotavirus is a virus and can't be treated with antibiotics" suggested that he had said it several hundred times before, and had generally met with protest from patients. I hope I gained a few points back, after my anti-Gravol performance, when I said I understood that and was happy to continue treating symptoms till the virus had run its course.

Now, as long and the darned fever doesn't repeat itself. I could really use a good night's sleep.

My Japanese Soul Mate

So, one aspect of living in a different country is that there are certain foods and ingredients that aren't available. Strangely, this inevitably makes us crave those foods and ingredients, and we go to great lengths to create, find, import, or substitute. Although I'm happy to wing, say a roast, casserole, or soup, I'm less willing to gamble on my powers of invention when it comes to sushi rice, DongPo Rou, enchilada sauce, Chinese BBQ Pork, and Pork Buns.

Of course, I didn't bring an Asian cookbook to Peru with me, so I must Google all recipes. And what I discovered quickly was that many of these recipes required ingredients that can't be found in Arequipa: rice wine, rice vinegar, peanut oil, cooking sherry, white pepper, and a million others. Aaron went to Lima this week and brought back a bunch of stuff, but some things are unattainable. Again, the internet came to my rescue, as I am able to Google ingredient substitutes. Here I learned two amazing things. The first is that there is a thriving community of hip, urban vegans/observant Jews/observant Muslims out there who want to be able to make the most authentic tasting vegan/kosher/halal oyster sauce, marinades, and steamed dim sum around. My hat is off to them and their wordly tastebuds, without which I would never have been able to concoct oyster-free oyster sauce, sherry-free Dong Po Pork, sake-free Japanese marinades, and fish-flake-free miso soup base.

The second thing I learned is that there is a thriving food blog community out there. This, frankly, should come as no surprise to me, but I was a bit taken aback to discover that there are people more obsessed with food than I am. My new favorite is I Was Just Really Very Hungry. She pops up time and again when I search for good recipes for Chinese and Japanese food, and I feel I've found a kindred spirit.

Oh, big acknowledgements are also due to the vibrant online homesteaders, as I think of them - the people who post recipes for the homemade everything they make. Without them, I would never have learned to make my own sour cream, buttermilk (we'll see how it turns out) or toothpaste. Actually, I think I'll skip making that last one. There's plenty of Colgate in Peru. But it's interesting to know that if I really needed to, I'd be able to find an online recipe.

Illogic

There's a whitewashed wall that we drive past on our way home from downtown, which someone has painted with the following phrase in big bold red and black: "¡ESTE TERRENO NO SE VENDE! 555-123" Which of course means "THIS LOT IS NOT FOR SALE! 555-123." And this is hilarious to me. So one day, I was laughing about it, in a taxi, and I said to the taxi driver, "Why would this person paint on their wall that the land isn't for sale?" The cabby said, "Maybe people keep trying to buy it." I said, "Okay, but then wouldn't it make more sense not to put your phone number up?" What possible reason could there be for offering your phone number when you don't want people to call you?

Monday, May 22, 2006

How to Have a Storm Day When the Weather's Always Perfect

You know that feeling, the one you get when you wake up in the dusky light of a winter morning, to see that snow has fallen - snow on snow - and continues to fall, and you shuffle over to the kettle in your jammies and slippers, fill a mug with tea, and flip the radio on to see what schools are closed for the day, and if the highways are shut down, and when you discover that they are, you know that a day full of reading, playing quiet games, and eating comfort foods awaits, as you are absolved of all responsibility to go out and be a Productive Member of our Busy Society? Or is that just me? Does anybody else get a bit excited when the power goes out (giant ice storms notwithstanding)?

Here in Arequipa, where every single day is sunny and sees a high of 25 (C) and a low of 8 (C), storm days are unlikely to happen. Fortunately, we have something called a paro, which is like a strike only done by bus and taxi drivers (parar is to stop). Traffic mostly stops, especially into and out of the centre of town, thanks to protesting drivers who lob bricks and rocks at those breaking the paro, as well as makeshift road blocks of broken glass and nails. There is almost no traffic in our street today, my Spanish teacher has cancelled our lesson for the afternoon, and Joffre was the only kid in his class at school today; they told us to just have him stay home tomorrow if the paro continues.

Oh, they say it's to protest the recent increase in gas tax, as well as the tariffs or "tributes" that they must pay to the municipal government, but when my Peruvian friend called me today and knowingly said, "so, taking it easy, having a quiet day at home today?", it gave the game away. I know Storm Day Envy when I see it.

To Ubicate

I have discovered a new favorite Peruvian/Spanish verb: ubicarse. It means "to find oneself," and not in an existential way. When we are driving in the taxi, the dispatcher comes on the radio to ask different cars where they ubicate themselves. You might ask where a restaurant, store, or park is using ubicarse: "¿Dónde se ubica el restaurante?", or you might demand to know where your friend is when she's running a half hour late: "¿Dónde te ubicas?"

What's funny is that Spanish already has encontrarse, which is more literally "to find oneself" (still not existentially). According to my Spanish teacher, it's a fairly local expression. I tried to explain about "ubiquitous" in English, but somehow saying, "you know, when something is all around, or when you keep seeing the same things everywhere," didn't fully convey the meaning of the word.

Peruvian Whine

No, not the cutesy Green College spelling of wine, but actual whining. It's a strange fact that in Peru, when someone is asking for a favour or saying something in a supplicating, obsequious fashion, he or she will use a wheedling, high-pitched, whiney tone of voice. Almost like baby talk. It drives foreigners nuts, because it sounds like whining, but it is - among local people - a respectful and self-deprecating way to speak. It is mostly used by women and children, in my experience, and is virtually always used when one asks to borrow something. So, when a little kid in the street comes up to you and whines "buy some gum from me," he isn't being bratty but respectfully subservient.

Si sí no fuera sí sino si . . .

Today I was walking up from taking Joffre to school and I saw a guy wearing a t-shirt that had a picture of Bush and Saddam Hussein, with a peace symbol superimposed over their faces, and the phrase "Not to the war, If to the peace." You see, "no" in Spanish can mean no or not, depending on the context, and "si" means if, while "sí" (note the accent) means yes. So, I could si where the t-shirt maker was coming from.

Oh, yeah, we went to Machu Picchu and Lake Titicaca, only not in that order. I will write about that soon. Promise.