"You Need A Steetch!"

For any that may already know about my little adventure at the Belizian hospital... never fear. Despite the fact that my war wound is cool, I'm not going to post pictures of it to the blog. I believe the story is better if you just use your imagination. And I'll be honest, I told Benj that I didn't want to take pictures of it... mainly because every time I get a glimpse of it my stomach starts to turn and the thought of documenting that for history's sake makes me cringe a little. I'm a pansy when it comes to injuries like this! :)

But the story goes like this.

Benj and I were planning to go to the Cornerstone Foundation with one of our teammates Cydnee. It was a great plan we had for that day. We all got up and got dressed in business casual. Which doesn't really seem like that big of a deal, but with how hot and humid it is here, looking put together and wearing business casual is almost more effort than it's worth. We were going to teach a typing class at Cornerstone and then catch a bus to Belmopan for a meeting about our business class.

Cornerstone is literally about a block away from where we live here in Belize. It's just down a hill and right around the corner. So off we went, down the rocky path, talking about our plans for the day and remarking about the weather or something of the sort. I wasn't being a crazy walker, I wasn't trying to multi-task, I honestly was just walking down the road. But my foot hit a loose rock, I slid and ended up going down on my knee along a pretty rocky part of the road. Benj had my hand and pulled me back up in seconds, but the damage was done. When I looked down at my leg I knew it wasn't going to be a good day anymore.

The graphic details of my injury are as follows (skip this if you get woosey like I do). It's a puncture wound, about a little bit bigger than a dime, and just about an inch away from my knee cap. By the time we walked the 3 houses back to our apartment I had blood running down my leg and onto my Chacos.

Benj was a total hero. He grabbed me a chair, then took one look at my face and agreed that I should probably lay down on the floor. Within seconds he'd looked at the wound, cleaned up the blood, and flushed the wound out the best he could. But he couldn't avoid breaking the news that we were going to have to go to the hospital for some stitches. I hate hospitals... funny I know, seeing that I used to work at Utah Valley Regional.

But we caught a cab, I tried to maintain the shock I was in over the amount of blood and the looming hospital visit that lay ahead. We made it to Loma Lus, a Seventh Day Adventist hospital in the neighboring town of Santa Elena. There was no wait, and I was eeen by a doctor within just a few minutes. And here's where the story gets really good.


I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, but I dislike being sick or hurt and don't like doctors or hospitals. Additionally, when I get in that intense state that comes with a little bit of shock and a minor to major injury... I unlike other people, get a little sassy and end up cracking jokes about whatever is going on. Other people break into a sweat and clam up, and I... well, I jump up on stage ready for a performance.

The doctor was this incredibly cute Guatemalan lady. She spoke some English but had a nurse who also acted as a translator. Her hair was all done in ringlets and she looked like a  little doll in her 2 shades of pink scrubs. We went through the consultation and in broken English she asked me the usual doctor stuff. What had happened, how bad it hurt and so on. I was enjoying the air conditioned room. The procedure room however didn't have any AC. And of course we all piled in and shut the door. The whole thought of stitches makes me a little light headed, so cutting off the air circulation didn't help any. I was trying to keep the crazy comments going on in my head to a minimum and Benj was great to make sure there was no passing out and that the doctor was doing a good job. But 2 comments did make me laugh out loud.

The shots of local anesthetic were the worst and Benj knew I was close to losing it so he grabbed my hand and said "Talk to me Goose..." to which I had to just laugh and reply "What do you want me to say? Ouch?"

But our favorite was from our cute little Guatemalan doctor while looking at the wound.... "Oh Mareesa... you need a steetch." I wanted to sit up and say... "I think I need more than one steetch lady..." but I just looked at Benj and then said, "okay" instead.

Anyway... 4 stitches. That's all I got. I go back on Friday to get them out, but I'll say this for Belize and Loma Lus... "steetches" have definitely made our trip a lot more exciting thus far!