article from July 28, 2011
By Jamie Douglas
After the many years spent coming and going from Patzcuaro,
it was inevitable that my wife and I would lose some of our friends to the grim
reaper, as well as seeing the parents of our friends sliding down that slippery
slope of debilitating diseases and loss of memory.
One such person was Doña Maria, whose loving daughter Zelda
took excellent care of her for many years. Unfortunately, Doña Maria became
afflicted with Alzheimer’s. But in spite of being bedridden for the last few
years of her life, Zelda brought her out to parties and get togethers as long
as she could walk short distances. She seemed to enjoy the company, whoever we
were.
Doña Maria never realized how bad off she was and would
occasionally sneak out of her bedroom to walk her palatial home. It was after
one of those walks that we arrived at her house, only to be ushered into her
bedroom. She was lying on her bed, bleeding from a wound on her forehead. I was
told of the circumstances surrounding how she got the wound and had a good look
at it, deciding that she would need a few stitches. The local hospital was out
of the question, as she was in no shape to be transported.
So her granddaughter, Laura, and I set out to find a doctor
who would make a house call at midnight. We knocked on many doors and went to
the pharmacies that had to stay open late, all to no avail. Finally, we were
directed to the local morgue, where the coroner was busy with the victims of an
automobile accident. Laura explained the situation to the coroner, and he
agreed to go with us, as he was a friend of the family. Pointing to the corpses
on his tables, he stated calmly, “They will not be going anywhere.”
He followed us down to the house and made a quick examination,
and it was at this point that Doña Maria started to get combative, so we had to
hold her down on the bed. The good doctor needed to go get sutures and assorted
other items. He returned about half an hour later with a sack of goods and
proceeded to scrub his hands in the sink. Going back to his bag, he extracted
all that was necessary, plus what looked to be a white lab coat. But when he
began to put it on, we saw that it was actually a gas station attendant’s
uniform bearing the logo of the national oil company, PEMEX, which he put on
inside out and then slung a stethoscope around his neck.
I looked at him half-laughing about the PEMEX logo, and he
explained to me that he felt the white uniform lent him authority and made him
look like a real doctor. With that, we went back to Doña Maria’s bedroom where,
by now, the whole clan was part of the restraint team. But what a magical
transformation occurred when the PEMEX guy entered the room: Doña Maria got
visibly excited and stopped fighting, turning into a little girl and murmuring
over and over, “doctor, doctor.”
The coroner proceeded to give her the once around brightly, not
paying too much attention to her wound, until he pulled out a very small
syringe and filled it with Xylocaine, a local anesthetic, continually talking
reassuringly with her and holding her hand. And when he felt the time had come,
he quickly sewed up the wound with three or four stitches.
Doña Maria did not flinch and neither did she want the
doctor to leave, so he stayed around until she fell asleep. He refused payment
except for the materials he had to buy, which excluded the white jacket. He had
just gone to the gas station and borrowed one from one of the attendants.
Mission accomplished, and I learned that sometimes, the
uniform does make the man!
Jamie Douglas
San Rafael, Mendoza
Where the Malbec Wine is Always Fine!
I encourage you to write me at cruzansailor [at] gmail [dot] com with
any questions or suggestions you may have. Disclaimer: I am not in any
travel-related business. My advice is based on my own experiences and is free
of charge (Donations welcome). It is always my pleasure to act as a beneficial
counselor to those who are seekers of the next adventure.
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