Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is not a holiday in Mexico. We don't have a big turkey dinner or get days off from school or work. But it's one of my favorite holidays, and one I celebrated every year when I lived in the USA. I think that giving thanks is a good thing, something people should do more often, and this year I have a lot to be thankful for.

Last Sunday, November the 23rd to be exact, started like any other Sunday since I've been in Mexico, I got up early to catch up with laundry and house keeping, the kids and I had a late breakfast, we played with the dogs outside, the hours rolled in while we worked around the house and it got to late to make it to church so we just skipped it. After lunch, the kids went upstairs to watch tv while I worked on my planning for the coming week.

I was sitting at the dining room table, right across from the window that looks into the patio, a big window that lets in enough outside light, perfect for filing papers, planning class, and catching up on grading and tests, I could hear the kids playing upstairs, all of a sudden I hear a noise and as I look up and out the window, I saw the screen from the upstairs window make it's way to the ground, then, right then, right that second, my life came to a stop, time froze for an instant, only to start again like a slow motion film, it was the longest yet fastest second of my life, right after the window's screen hit the ground, I heard a yell and I saw my 5 year old boy, my baby, my life, flying, falling to the ground. I screamed, I stood up and ran outside, still screaming, with a voice I had never heard before, like a wounded animal. I don't know how long it took for his little body to hit the hard tile floor, I don't know how long it took me to run outside, it must have been minutes, but to me it felt like an eternity. When I came outside he was already in all fours trying to get up, he was crying and I could see he was badly hurt, I felt like fainting, but probably mother's instinct and adrenaline prevented me from passing out, I picked him up and ran outside, screaming, yelling for help, my 7 year old daughter tagging behind me.

The neighbors, who had heard the horryfing screaming, were already coming out of their houses to see what had happened, one of them immidiately started calling for an ambulance, I ran with my son in my arms to my mom's house, she lives about half a block away from me, another set of neighbors took me and my son in their car to the ER of a private hospital (Hospital del Nino), my mother took my daughter and called my sister so they could meet us at the hospital, my dad was out of town, so my sister need to give my mom a ride.


Eli hadn't lost consciousness at all, he was crying, but it was a little faint cry, on our ride to the hospital, about 5 minutes from the house, I kept looking him in the eye begging him not to fall asleep. When we got there, I put him on one of the stretchers and a doctor came to check him and asked what had happened, they kept talking to him, asking him if he knew where he was and if he knew who I was, he answered to all the questions, but he was in a lot of pain, and I could see he was starting to drift away, so I kept touching his hand, afraid to touch anything else, in case his bones were broken, and telling him he would be OK, but the worst thing was, I really didn't know if he was gonna be OK.

My mom, my sister and little Paloma got there a few minutes after us, and it was on the next hour when I wished I had never come back to this country, to a country that claims itself free and of high family values, and no discrimination and so on. This private hospital we were at, is subsidized by the government, is not as expensive as real private hospital, but it's not free either, it's a pediatrics specialized hospital, and that's the reason I brought my child there. Obviously my son needed X rays, to look for fractures, he needed an IV, to give him a medicine that would prevent a seizure in case of skull fracture and brain bleeding, well, I didn't have cash, of course I didn't, I don't even know how I had shoes on, I don't remember putting on my shoes, I don't remeber if I had them on before I ran out of the house, because I'm usually barefeet in the house, so of course I had no money, and the doctors couldn't do anything, they couldn't take care of my baby, because services have to be paid for before they do them. Are these people crazy? When was I supposed to stop by an ATM, before or after I picked him up from the ground? So we asked them to transfer him to hospital that's under the Social Security, which I have right to since I'm employed and I pay taxes, so it's free when you are employed, well, he needed and ambulance ride to get there, which of course, I had to pay for in cash!! Since I had no money and I wasn't about to leave my child there to go figure out a way to get 1ooo pesos, they said I could call the Red Cross for an ambulance, but the Red Cross policy is to call the hospital from where the service is being requested to get info about the patient, to make a long story short, the hospital told the Red Cross that the child wasn't in grave danger and we didn't need an ambulance, this without Xrays to rule out a fractured spine.

The hospital wouldn't release my son without first taking off the IV with the medicine to prevent seizures, and while my mom argued with the doctors, I took the IV from the little hook and grabbed my boy and ran out the door. My mom and daughter ran after me and jumped in the car with us and we took him to Seguro 1., where thank God, he was seen by a doctor and sent to Xrays right away. I still can't believe the other hospital would deny us service because we couldn't pay in cash at the moment, I offered them a credit card, but of course, they don't take credit, I told them I would get someone to go get cash for me, but that had to go through the administrators office first, of course to me, all this felt like a waste of precious minutes, minutes that could make the difference in my child's life. What kind of country is this? That's all I could think off, and I wished I was back in Virginia, where I knew they wouldn't have asked for cash right away, even if I had to spend the rest of my life writing montly checks to the hosptial, he would've been taken care off right away. The Social Security hospital where we were at is really not what you think a hospital should be like, and although the doctors are great, and well prepared and experienced, the hosptial itself is terrible, there were roaches crawling all over the floor, there's no single rooms, all the "salas", sections are over crowed, only one relative per patient can be there, and all you get is a little chair to sit on, that's if there's any chairs available, there's no soap in the bathroom, no toilet paper, the equipment is old, anyhow, I really wished I was back in American soil, even if Ihave to put up with the eternal questions of "How you got here? Do you all speak Mexican?" I could hear those questions again and again and not get tired of them as long as my children are getting proper medical care.

Miracoulosly, after a two day stay in the hospital, a CAT scan and a whole collection of X rays, my son came home with nothing but a couple bruises, all the doctors and nurses that took care of him in the hospital kept calling him "miracle boy", because they couldn't explain how after a fall like that, 5 meters down onto hard concrete, he was even alive, they couldn't explain either how none of his bones were broken or how come he was awake the whole time, except for night time, he pretty much kept his regular bedtime even in the hospital.

So this years Thanksgiving was very special to me and my family, and eventhough I didn't get out of work till 9 that night, and eventhough we didn't have a nice turkey dinner, I was very grateful, I'm thankful that my baby boy is OK, and that little Paloma was such a good sport and stayed at her aunt's house for a couple days without complaining, and that eventhough she was scared, she knew mommy couldn't be with her and she had to be strong, I'm thankful for my parents, because they were there for me the whole time, they helped out in everyway they could, and I'm grateful I have such great sisters, and a brother, who took care of my daughter, and brought Eli doughnuts when he got out of the hospital. I'm also thankful for my coworkers, who covered for me the day I had to miss and kept asking how my son was doing, and I thanful for all my friends here and in Virginia who sent get well wishes and prayers for us, for my relatives that stopped by the hospital to lend a hand, and the ones who called to check on us.
I'm grateful too, for the doctors that took care of him, eventhough the hospital is falling apart.

Hopefully soon enough I'll get a visa, so I can go back to the USA and be able to work and live there like any other American, and when I'm there, I'll celebrate Thanksgiving the American way again.

Have you ever walked into a candy store with a 5 year old? Do you remember being youn and going to one? How on your way there you knew exactly what you wanted, you had your mind set on your favorite candy bar or lollypop, but once you walked in, oh surprise, so many choices, so many colors, and flavors, so much variety to choose from, and you stand there, looking, thinking, doubting yourself, did you really want that candy bar? wouldn't some wild cherry chews be better? or the newest and improved chewing gum which flavor lasts all day? So after terribly long minutes of dispair, you choose something, you feel pretty comofortable with your choice, you pay for it, you walk out, and as soon as you have a taste, you regret your decision, you wished you had bought that candy bar after all.
Well, that's how I feel lately, but unfortunately my decisions aren't over candy bars and lollypops anymore...

About a year ago, I knew what I wanted, I had a decision made, I wanted to go back to my country, I wanted to get a job, I wanted to be independant, I wanted to feel free, I wanted to be in my hometown, where life is hectic, and days go by so quick, it's like you go to bed on Monday and wake up on Friday, the only hint of fall is the coolness in the air, no leaves changing or falling of trees. You know it's winter because the bugs have gone to sleep and the tile floors shoot streaks of cold up your spine if you walk barefeet. The town is so big, I feel like I should leave a trace of crumbs every time I go out so I can get back home, like Hansel and Grettel did. I work every day, every hour of the day, and although I enjoy it, I miss having time for my children, and for myself .

I came to Mexico in May, it's November and I miss the simple quiet life in Virginia, where the days were long and went by slowly, where every time the phone rang, I could pretty much make an asserted bet to who it was, because only a handful of people would call, where the town was so small that I knew every street, every store, every traffic light. Where my weeks were higlighted by a playgroup or lunch with friends, where you know the fall will come, every year at the same time, with the same shades of orange and red, and the winter will follow with it's beautiful blanket of white.

Unfortunately, I won't be able to go back to live there in a long long time, not till my children are old enough to sponsor me and get a visa for me. And the sad part of the story is that if I did go back to live there, I would miss Mexico, and my crazy work hours, and my crazy family and they way they all have a say in my life. I would miss the freedom that I didn't have in the USA for such a long time.

Maybe one day I'll know what I want....

Trouble maker

Since I was very young, I was labeled as a trouble maker, I remember one time, when I was about 4 or 5 years old, I hid under a bed at my grandmas house, and even as I heard everyone screaming my name, and even as I saw the commotion of everyone looking for me, my grandma even went out into the street thinking I might have gone out, even after all that, all I did was stay still and quiet, till the scream of "She's here" that came from out of my siblings mouth startled me and brought me back into reality. All the adults were crying tears of joy, they were so happy to find me that I didn't even get a spanking, my mom held me and hugged me, and they all soon forgot all the trouble I had caused. I didn't mean to cause any trouble, I just wanted to be left alone, I just wanted to be invisible for a while.

Yesterday I got in trouble again, the whole family got invited to a party, were one of my best friends from childhood was gonna be. He's married and has children, I hadn't seen him in over 10 years, he offered to give me a ride home, which I gladly accepted, because it would be the perfect chance to be alone with him and talk and catch up, well, he brought me home and in all the chatting and catching up, he ended being gone from the party, where his wife anxiously waited, for over an hour, everyone was mad and worried sick, and I must admit, taking off with him like that wasn't the smartest or nicest thing to do, but we didn't care, we wanted to see each other, to talk, to be taken back to 199o something, when life was easy, when we pain, lonenliness, worry, and divorce weren't words in our everyday vocabulary, when all we wanted to do was to grow up and be independant and move out of our parents house, see the world , and here we were now, wondering how it all happened so quick, wondering how we ended up like we did, me almost divorced and struggling to bring up two kids, him already divorced once, going for the second.

I'm almost thirty and again I feel the same, I want to just hide for a while, be submerged in the stillness and quietness that you could only find on a hiding spot like under a bed, of course I don't fit under any of the beds in my house now, so my hiding places have to be more complex now, I hide behind my everyday life, I hide my sadness behind a broad smile, I hide my desperation under 60 work hours a week, tears are the hardest thing to hide though, when my kids ask why do we have to walk? why don't we have a car? why don't we have more money? more food? why is daddy gone? that's when I wish I was still 4 years old and I could crawl under a bed and be there for a long time, quiet, still, waiting, knowing that I had caused trouble, but hoping to be gone long enough for everyone to forget about it.