Such a day you will not believe!

Yesterday was the King’s Birthday; a holiday in a country that officially has more holidays than any other. We send wishes for a good life and happiness to His Highness Mohammad VI. May you continue to rule in peace and for the prosperity, happiness, and freedom of your people.

Yesterday at my “office” in the new city (the Majestic) sitting under the blessedly cool a/c which only extended as far as the actual air flow, in temperatures over 41C, I ask Q, “Isn’t’ the café au lait good?”

To wit the young woman with the finely tuned palate replied, “It’s not offensive.”

The temperature today is 43C. I had planned to go the gym and salon at Moving and then straight on to the Mega Mall and work in the a/c; but M.C. is not better, is still not eating – so we are off to the Vet’s at 0900hrs. But not without difficulty as the road that runs along our river (the one that is advancing from two lanes to four) was blocked off in the two lanes heading east, and slowed traffic to a crawl for five or six klicks.

M.C. apparently has some infection that is giving him a high fever and is the cause of his lack of appetite. After one injection of a new antibiotic at the vet’s he appears to me some better. The vet wanted to keep him there but as we were not happy with the care he received at the hands of the secretary/assistant last time, Q told her she would take him home and return every day for his shot instead.

We returned home and Q went to the house to get him squared away while I went across the street to our local apothecary (with the lovely pharmacists) to see if they could fill the prescriptions. They did have one of the antibiotics she had prescribed but not the other. In Morocco, with animals as with people, it is not the standard of care practiced by the doctors and veterinarians but rather the lack of supplies and equipment that is lacking.

When I arrived home he had eaten a bit which was more than he had in the past days. Again, I took this as a good sign. Q and I picked up our bags and donned our hats and sunglasses for another foray out into the rising heat of the day to go to Marjane’s and get a blender and supplies to make him chicken broth (see those “old wives” knew a thing or two) per suggestion of the vet. As I had returned from the apothecary I noted that the highway heading east was now blocked off entirely which meant our path to Marjane (our destination) was either unreachable or only attainable by a circuitous route. My backup plan was of course the Marjane at Souissi, which I also know is much COOLER. The MacDonald’s that is attached has what Q deemed, “American a/c” (meaning frigid).

We did manage to get a taxi in short order and headed in the correct direction, albeit at this point everyone else (and the entire city of Rabat had decided they needed to go somewhere in an automobile today of all days) had been made aware that the road was closed and were doing the Moroccan version of a turnabout which resembles nothing so much as the head long frantic rushing of the salmon headed upstream to spawn. Our driver took on another passenger, like you do, a young woman who looked very relieved to be out of the heat. As we progressed up the boulevard that runs parallel to the Medina I saw through the front window a scenario that passed so quickly, and was so horrid that I didn’t realize it had occurred until it was over. It was like having a movie stamped on my memory of which I had awareness, but only later did frame by frame project itself.

A young boy of nine or ten was knocked over and dragged underneath a silver midsize car (about the size of a mid-size Mercedes) in the lane coming toward us. The back wheel on the driver’s side then rolled over him. As the car passed over the boy he leaped up and ran crying around the back of the car and out of sight!

Our driver, seeing the last of the accident took the young woman (late twenties, dark hair, wearing a skirt and blouse) to task by insisting that she stop her car and not leave. I indicated to the driver he must stop as well. I am trained as a Medic and I had to stop, no equivocation. Q further explained after my hasty exit and the kind young woman in the front said, “Go, I will pay your portion of the fare.”

Arriving at the scene – the child had made it as far as the curb before he collapsed which is why Q thought he had run off all together, but I knew he would not make it far as I had witnessed the entirety of the incident – I found a crying, terrified child surrounded by caring adults who had no idea what to do, but offered support and stayed through until the end. I love Moroccans. The word “medico” is a powerful one here; as soon as I identified myself everyone backed right off and followed my directions.

He was calling for his mother, which was a wonderful sign as that indicated to us he was not a street child and at the hospital he would have someone who was responsible. I made sure that someone had indeed called for an ambulance (everyone here has a mobile) and proceeded to give him a check head to foot. The great news was that he was oriented (no concussion), moving all extremities (no spinal injury), and calling for his mother while crying (likely no broken ribs, no perforation of the lungs). All of which I found amazing. I had exited the taxi prepared to give CPR to at the least, a severely injured child and perhaps even a dying one.

After examining this child it is my considered opinion that the Universe has something in mind for this young man. He had no broken bones, no rigidity of the abdomen (bleeding), no difficulty with deep breaths (fractured or broken ribs), no problem following directions (thank you Q), no dilation of the pupils (concussion) or following my finger with his eyes. He was able to turn his head without difficulty (neck or spinal injury) and could wiggle his toes (broken knees, leg bones, nerve injury). His grip was equal in both hands and strong (concussion or spinal injury), and he was crying in pain (no shock).

He did have the skin scraped right off his left ankle and the top of both feet, and scrapes to his hands. That was the extent of the injuries that were visible and diagnosed on emergency examination. What he needed was a chest and abdominal x-ray to check for damage to his spleen, and I am not convinced that one of his lower ribs may be fractured and he was so frighten that the pain had not set in.

The ambulance arrived shortly after I had finished my examination, given him some OulMes to drink, and used the last of it to give a cursory cleaning to the wounds on his feet and hands. A well meaning, but ill informed bystander, while I was diverted by the arrival of the ambulance and giving them a report, poured tap water over his feet – a bad idea here as the bacteria content in tap water varies depending on where you obtained it and when. The EMTs had the stretcher out and him in the ambulance in short order. The only difficulty remaining was that his mother had not arrived yet and I was concerned about his ability to pay for the x-rays, which was a dilemma as there was no one to whom I could give any money since his mother had not been found; but the EMTs had no hesitation in taking him, and assured me he would have x-rays on arrival at the hospital.

We left at this point being certain that in the Medina, as in the Oudayas, everyone knows everything about everyone, and someone would find his mother. As we crossed through the gate in search of another taxi we saw the ambulance leaving. The timing was such that I think his mother had arrived.

We secured a taxi in short order and entered the nightmare that was now all traffic within ten klicks of the Oudayas. I don’t know why, it was just one lane! After spending what seemed an eternity, but in truth was more likely ten minutes (says Q it was five, but I swear it was an hour!), our taxi pulls out of traffic (huzzah we are thinking) and into a repair garage (uh oh) which was apparently full and busy so he pulled up to another. The back tire was flat and we were gone.

Now we are walking the streets of the New City in the increasing heat of the day trolling for another taxi. Again the time seemed like hours, but this time even I admit it was more like five minutes. We had no desire to return to the clogged traffic on the roads behind us, so we requested he take us to the Marjane across town in Souissi.

Yes, there is MORE if you can believe that. Part II coming up.

..back in the saddle again

This blog-cast is coming to you from the rooftops of the Oudayas. The heat has driven us to the roof with our laptops, and while a tiny bit inconvenient it is lovely and blessedly cool, and there is a naked pudgy man a few roofs over and I am having a very hard time averting my eyes… he may well have on some sort of skimpy bathing costume, I fear to gaze too long in his direction lest he suspect me of more than simple curiosity. While I am clothed in what is normal summer attire (a short sleeve shirt and shorts) it is not something I would wear even outside my door here. However as I informed Q, this is my house and I am not going to wear any more clothes in this heat. There is the sound of drums in the distance, which could mean anything from a wedding to some sort of show for the tourists. Oh my giddy aunt he stood up and has on a rather skimpy bathing costume – and he is not someone who should… Ah yes I see now it is a bar-b-que on the neighboring roof, and as Q so brilliantly noted, “there’s a fire over there!” And only men. So where do you suppose the women are eating? Oh my, our mouths are watering as the smell of meat grilling and some sort of delectable sauce is poured over it while on the fire. We are not big meat eaters, more your chicken and fish girls, but we are carnivores and now and then the body screams, “feed me meat!”. Alas after dark here that is not going to happen, perhaps tomorrow we need to go back to Le Grand Comptoir. We have decided it’s the only place to eat fish and I’m thinking the beef will prove out as well.

We have such a splendid view up here of the river and the city. In the twilight the city is a soft white and grey with the green rooftops and the twinkling lights of the traffic adding splotches of color. We can hear the prayer calls now going out over the cityscape and see Hassan’s Tower and the palace are lit up. The neighborhood’s only two dogs are barking from the palm-covered roof over next to the bakery (they do not leave their roof as they fear attack by the gang of “terrace cats”). “Who’s your daddy now?”

The moon has risen and is the kind you see in all the landscape paintings. Full and rose colored with the clouds drifting across the bottom. In the distance we can see the lights from the “I want to die in an accident” Ferris wheel and tipsy top rides. Q is crying out in some agony from the smell coming from “the men’s party” terrace of meat roasting.

File under total lack of personal responsibility: NYTIMES “Study Says Obesity Can Be Contagious”. “You don’t want to lose a friend who becomes obese, Dr. Christakis said. Friends are good for your overall health, he explains. So why not make friends with a thin person, he suggests, and let the thin person’s behavior influence you and your obese friend?” Didn’t that used to be, “It’s just as easy to love a rich chap as a poor one”? What a world, what a world. So now let’s see.. it’s not guns that kill people… and it’s not that buttery pastry you are putting in your mouth but your friends who are making you fat? I don’t think so.

I am one who believes in the power of thought – be it called prayer, meditation, or intentions – and we can use some of your positive thoughts just now. I had not told you of this as the incident with marymary took my attention, but M.C. Solaar is unwell. He went in Monday last for the very simple neuter procedure. Unfortunately a series of events has turned it to a dark day indeed. One of his testicles had not descended turning the snip-snip into an invasive procedure with multiple stitch sites. Then he had a very bad reaction to the anesthesia and we had to take him back to the vet where he stayed for three unhappy days. Q brought him home and he is a scruffy, sad little fellow indeed. The first antibiotic gave him terrible diarrhea, and now he is on two antibiotics. He won’t eat or drink and Q has been patiently feeding him with a syringe and squirting the water into his mouth. There has been none of his usual running, jumping, leaping – just sleeping. We are very concerned that he is no better after a week’s time. He returns to the vet on Wednesday to have his stitches out. I know there are many of you who are ‘animal people’, and those who are wonderful without animals. If you could spare a moment to send a positive thought his way it would be so kind. This is the poor dear’s schedule at present:
10AM--amoxi 1.5 ml
10:15--12 syringes of food+3 water
11AM--stomach antibiotic 2ml
2:15--12 syringes of food +3 water
3PM--stomach antibiotic 2ml
6:15--12 syringes of food+3 water
7PM--stomach antibiotic 2ml
10PM-amoxi 1.5 ml
10:15--12 syringes of food+3 water
if you're up--2:15--12 of food+3 water

We are somewhat encouraged as he moved aside the box blocking the staircase and made his way up the stairs to crawl into bed with me last night, where he curled up and slept quite soundly.

All good thoughts are appreciated.

If I don’t die from the heat, it is to be 39C and over the next few days, I shall return.

You all certainly made me feel better these past days. After all the hoopla I really considered dropping the blog thing, but you have made me rethink that decision. Thank you to everyone – and thank you for coming by☺

Ciao.