Tolerating informal commerce, and informal commerce tolerating you – part 2

You, sitting there, reading your book. Him, getting on the bus and YELLING THE EARDRUMS OUT OF EVERYONE’S HEAD ABOUT HIS AWESOME chewing gum SO FRIGGIN AWESOME BUY IT BUY IT BUY IT. Him, putting his package of chewing gum on your book.

You, being sleepy after an 10 hour day with kids 8 hours in a row, sleeping there on the bus. Him, getting on the bus and SCREAMING ABOUT HIS OH MY FUCKING JESÚS CRISTO AMAZING FUCK YEAH chocolate bar OH YEAH CREAM FRECHE OH YEAH pushing your shoulder, waking you up to ENJOY THE SIGHT OF THIS DAMN PRECIOUS chocolate bar WOOOPAAHH.

Right.

So, last Monday [about 2 weeks ago now], me, sitting there, dozing off.

Him, getting on to the NUTS, BUY MY NUTS, HONESTLY BUY MY NUTS, walking up to me with a mixed bag of nuts in one hand, big box of more amazing wares in the other.

Me, shaking my head and waving my finger in a very universal ‘no, no, really, no’ fashion.

Him, while FRIGHTENING MY EARDRUMS FARTHER INTO MY INNER EAR, dropping his bag onto my lap.

Me, picking up the bag, gently rejoining it with his friends.

Him, SHOU-interrupting his tirade and his walk, to stare me down for more than a full 4 seconds.

Me, looking at him until… he seemingly moves on.

The bus driver, hitting the brakes slightly.

Him… hitting the back of my head fully with his elbow with a vast amount of force, driving poignant agonies down my neck, back, and arms.

Me… looking at him, astonished and shocked, for a couple of seconds.

Him.. looking at me for a second, before moving on.

It took about 5 minutes before the pain set in, accompanied by nausea, a being-on-a-high like feeling, and a disturbed equilibrium. I could not remember the last time I had a concussion, and I even doubted whether I had one. Now, five days later, I know better. For days, I have felt like I walked around with my head inside a fishbowl. Do you know clenching feeling around your ears when you have to yawn? That feeling, in a reduced manner, is what I felt for the last days, permanently.

After being at home on Tuesday, trying (and failing) a day at work on Wednesday, I went to see a doctor on that day.

Now, you have to know that the most common doctors you would find here are so called “Doctor Simis”. Because of the general poverty, there are discount pharmacies everywhere, called Farmacia de Similares – “The same, but cheaper!”, basically.

I would go there for any Moctezuma’s revenge annoyance (remember, the stomach troubles every foreigner gets to meet), but for this… Besides, my superiors would not take me seriously anyway if I did not go to a “real” doctor.

After a lot of searching around, I found an address for a general medical doctor via the school’s healthcare insurance I have. Arriving there, we find only a regular apartment building. Unsurprised because we have seen this more often around here, we ask the first best we find if there is a doctor in the building (oh, I always wanted to say that sometime!). His basic answer is, “Herp, only an acupuncturist.”

By this time, I am through and through, we go up and knock until the dear acupuncturist opens up – even though it is after his hours. Again, sorry and thank you. After a full examination, at least I figured out that nothing inside my brains is inflamed, but – and I love this part – he tells me that:

“You have fear in your body, and that is why your spirit is wavering. Let me crack your joints and you’ll feel better.”

So besides painkillers, the doctor’s note of needing 24 hours of rest, I also got a quick (and best ever professional) massage.

More rest be needed. I be logging off. Sleep well, and leave your head on.

PS: apparently, the department in charge at my job does not recognize the acupuncturist’s note – I would need one from the social services. However, I would not be able to get one due to my pending legal status. The practical answer is nothing more than a shrug. Too bad.

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