Translated by Louise Drummond
One evening at the beginning of the month of November: my son spoke to me by telephone, "Yesterday afternoon my nephew Jorge came to tell me, "I want to invite you and my grandfather. On the last day of this month I am going to marry."
I was very happy. For a long time I have wanted to be a great grandfather---I hope that this gallo does not disappoint me. From that day on the great talk of the family was of Jorge's coming wedding. Among many things was mentioned the place where the event would take place: "It is a large and pretty space, but its furnishings are all made of plastic, so it is cold." Most of note: the tuxedo, the black shoes, and coat for the cold room. The tuxedo I shall rent, the shoes I shall buy. And the coat? I will also buy it. Ni modo, it can't be helped, but I will not be cold at the wedding of my dear grandson. On a splendid blue skied morning, accompanied by my wife, I walked to the Plaza del Sol to buy my coat for the wedding.
Having managed to get us there, upon passing the restrooms at the mall, I needed to urinate, and I said to my wife, "Wait for me. I am going to the restroom." It only takes a second for things to happen in life and I tripped, and unfortunately, fell, nearly breaking the step with my forehead. But the step did not break. It was clear that I was the worst off. My forehead, according to my wife, oozed a lot of blood. She became alarmed and asked for help, which we was graciously given. The mall's paramedics arrived right away. They looked me over, asked me questions, bandaged the wound, gave me a pill, and serum. The only thing they didn't do was to give me a mint for the bad taste in my mouth.
Suddenly I heard a series of datos, facts, which I did not understand. One paramedic asked the other, and he asked me, "Where shall we take you?" Without thinking much I said, "I am the play thing of IMSS," and once again, I lost. They put me into a Cruz Verde ambulance. I excitedly thought, "At last, I am going to travel in a vehicle with a siren," but that day was not my lucky day; they didn't even use the horn. They took me to Emergency where they put me onto another gurney, and delivered me with the case history tucked below my feet. They left me in a corridor because there was no room in the emergency room. I was not alone in the hallway, but had the company of other sick and injured people. In less than half an hour a tall, black haired, clear eyed doctor with a smiling face arrived. He read my case history and yelled, "Who will suture this patient?" From far behind me a woman's voice said, "Me," and a short, young, pretty blonde opened a passage until she got to the doctor. She looked at me coldly, tore off the bandage, the hemorrhaging started again, the doctor topped the wound with gauze, and to my newly arrived son, said "Put your hand here and don't take it away until I come back." As luck would have it, he finished his shift and did not return.
The doctor on the next shift ordered that my wound be stitched. The nursing supervisor said to him, "The patient has waited an hour for the surgical unit for his treatment." At which, I had lost hope that they would do a tru-tru on me, they took me to a room about six by six, so small that they couldn't turn the gurney around, but an attendant found a way to put the light over my bed so that the intern could stitch me. The intern covered my face with a white towel. I could hear, but saw nothing. A voice ordered, "Lupita, get me two number seven curved needles, and number ten thread. Now the voice is a woman's and says, "There are only number four and number five needles, and I brought you number seven thread." Again, I heard the voice of the intern consulting with the doctor in charge, "Suture with this thread and these needles?" "Yes," said the doctor. "There is no other."
"How will my face look?" I thought. The intern started to instruct me, "Don Bernardo, I am going to use a local anesthetic which I will inject into your forehead several times. It will not hurt much." After twenty puctures, all of which hurt, he asked me, "Does it hurt?" I answered, "Yes, it hurts a lot." "That can't be. Your forehead should be numb," he answered. "It seems as if you haven't been anesthetized." At that moment I heard the doctor in charge order the intern to proceed to sew. Eight of the stitches I could feel; four I could not. I thought, "With this, I pay for all my sins." Sewing my forehead lasted two hard hours.
Then they took me back to the same corner in the Emergencies corridor. A doctor came near and, very seriously, he told me that I had to rest for half an hour before getting an x-ray. I stammered to the doctor that my accident was at 11:00 a.m. because of going to urinate and I had not done it yet. He looked at me and signaled to a nurse, "get a pato to the patient." and continued on his way. After more than ten minutes, the nurse came back with a cut off Coca Cola bottle, and gave it to me, saying, "We don't have patos." After a while the medic came back and asked me, "They gave you the pato?" "There were none." Yelling, he ordered the nurses: "Find him a bedpan." He hurriedly walked away and came back immediately, carrying the bedpan above his head.
Can you imagine the embarrassment that I would have felt trying to urinate in a bedpan in that great hall? On seeing the doctor with the bedpan in hand, I anxiously called, "Hasn't the half hour of rest that you ordered passed?" Looking at his watch he replied, "Yes, it has passed. Can you walk?" I shouted, "Yes!" "Then stand up and go urinate."
On returning to my "private room" in the corridor, and finally over the torment of not urinating for several hours, I waited for the expected x-ray. My son, desperate because of the time that had passed, asked the radiology technician, "How much time until you take my father's x-rays?" The reply was, "Two hours, more or less. We have a lot of patients with urgent problems and very little equipment." My son went to the administrative offices and got my release. In ten minutes I entered a private hospital. In less than thirty, I left with a release order in my right hand, and with the diagnosis of an orthopedist and a neurologist, based on x-rays taken. I did not have any large lesion.
Within a week of my accident, I went back to the Plaza del Sol to buy the coat to attend the wedding. The marriage was celebrated and I was there with my right arm in a sling, a cane, and dark glasses, but with an elegant tuxedo and a big smile. It was a very nice wedding, elegant and happy. The dinner, the drink, and the music were first class. When I was happiest, dancing with the sling and the cane, the sargento called out, "It's time to go." Oh well, it was two in the morning. We arrived at the house and on entering, my daughter said to me, "Papa, you left your coat in the trunk of the car and you didn't wear it."
In bed afterwards, I thought, "So much trouble and I didn't even wear the coat. I hope I can change it for underwear."
