And so another week has come and gone. We had a really fun weekend (even exploring Chueca, the gay district, on Saturday night!), but since then, I believe I have left the house a total of two times. Why? Well, my body decided that this would be the perfect week to break down.
It started with the temperature control issues. I’m generally always warm (as a result of either a warm heart or a fiery soul – neither has yet been confirmed), but during this weekend there were points where my teeth actually hurt from shivering all night. Of course there was the other extreme as well – the “being so hot in just shorts and a t-shirt that, even with the glass door wide open letting 40 degree air into the room, you’re still sweating an amount normally reserved for strenuous physical activities such as climbing stairs at some of our metro stations (i.e. Cuatro Caminos)” stage. It’s hard to choose which one I liked better.
It was Sunday when the migraine hit. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a bad migraine, but they’re actually the worst. You can’t really do anything. Not moving hurts, moving hurts more, thinking hurts, not thinking is stupid, mindlessly surfing the interwebs in search of something moderately amusing hurts – basically Sunday consisted of drifting in and out of weird and incoherent dreams (about information cubes and subconscious games) interrupted by periods of staring out the window.
Monday, things took a turn for the better. I still had a bit of headache, but I made it to class (Coorcoorse was canceled so I only had one class). I even dressed in layers so as to be able to best cater to whatever temperature my body felt was appropriate. I tried to be productive when I got home because it was my intention to get a lot done this week, but without a good library and/or inspiration to do work, there ended up being a lot of other things being done instead. These things included: crossword puzzles, facebook usage, gchatting, etc. Luckily, while I was wasting my time away, Angeles was using hers productively – to figure out exactly what it was that was causing this “head pain” I was speaking of. She told me her theory over dinner:
A: “I know why your head hurts.”
Me: “You do? Why does it hurt?”
A: “Because you’re in love.”
Me: “…I’m sorry, what? I…what?” (If I spoke better Spanish, I would have asked how the two things correlated, but Angeles took the hint.)
A: “Well, you went out dancing, you came back, and now you have a headache. Don’t you see?”
Me: “…No?” (My first theory was that she was making a deeper statement about the connections between love and pain, but I should’ve known – that’s not really her style.)
A: “I don’t know why you won’t tell me. Isn’t there someone you’re in love with?”
Me: “…No?” (Can’t you tell how good my Spanish has gotten?)
A: “Is he from here or from America
This goes on for another ten minutes – I eventually just accept because arguing with Angeles, especially when at a lingual disadvantage, is useless. (…I never knew love would feel like this?)
Anyway, since I was feeling pretty well, I was able to go with Erin to go meet both Perry’s and Mike’s parents for churros. Now, if you are a loyal reader you should know by now that parents are my favorites. Two sets + a little brother = high expectations. Unsurprisingly, said expectations were exceeded. They were hilarious and we had a great time! (In retrospect though, I feel like we didn’t hear any embarrassing stories which is unfortunate.)
We get home, happy, tired, and ready for a good night’s sleep. Then my body was like – just kidding, you thought you were better? You thought taking the mere recommended dose of Excedrin would be enough to take away my wrath? Basically I woke up the next morning dizzy and disoriented, feeling my way down the narrow hallway until I ran into Angeles. Erin was also sick, and after some confusion Angeles decided to call the doctor. I was confused but mostly wanted to sleep/not move so sort of let it happen. Apparently doctors make house calls in Spain
My first (hopefully only?) experience with the Spanish medical system:
Dr.: “eaoigqwhgoqha” ß rapid Spanish
Me: “…what?”
Dr.: “What do you have?”
Me: Isn’t that your job? “Well, my head hurts and I’m dizzy.”
Dr.: “Do you need to vomit?”
Me: “No. My head hurts.”
Dr. to A: “I don’t think she understands.”
Me: “I understand. I don’t need to vomit.”
A: “Does you stomach hurt?” -hand motions- “Throw up?”
Me: “NO.” -hand motions- “HEAD.”
A: “She doesn’t understand. I think her stomach definitely hurts.”
Dr.: “I’m going to take your blood pressure. Oh, wow! That’s really low. She needs…milk with sugar!” Really? You don’t want to know why my blood pressure was dangerously low? And your cure is milk with sugar?
A: “We don’t have milk.”
Dr.: “YOU DON’T HAVE MILK?”
A: “I DON’T LIKE MILK.”
Dr.: “BUT SHE NEEDS MILK WITH SUGAR.”
A: “I. DON’T. LIKE. MILK.”
Dr.: “She needs…juice with sugar?”
Things I learned that day:
- Angeles truly never loses an argument
- Loud noises do not help migraines
- Juice with sugar is DISGUSTING
- Angeles takes “medical advice” way too seriously (she now thinks I’m incredibly weak and unable to do anything and has been force feeding me ever since – “the doctor said you need to eat this.”)
Surprisingly, the doctor’s strict only-sugar diet (in combination with my continued regimen of Excedrin) did the trick. I woke up feeling like a champ (or at least not like I was in last place) this morning – I didn’t go to class, but that was mostly because I wanted to make sure I’m at 100% for Ireland this weekend (I’m all about visiting my homelands), and partially because the classes I have today are not ones in which I’ve learned too many useful things.
Continuing with my game plan of getting work done this week, I spent the rest of the day figuring out fun things to do in Ireland England
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