Inundated,,, With Random Stuff

Well, it's been a crazy several weeks in Mexico -- but what's new?  This post will be a potpourri of the mundane, bizarre and catastrophic events that have transpired.  Michael has been "unavailable" for photo ops so we've decided to just throw anything in that we haven't used before and like.  We're sure you're capable of making the leaps between subjects.

The (Prolonged) Recovery

It has been three (long) weeks since Michael's knee surgery.  While led to believe, by the Internet, that he would, by now, be performing back flips, the reality is that he cannot put weight on the leg for a few more days.  He careens around the house in his desk chair, wearing his Fred Roger's sweater and has started listening to opera.  It worries me.  Now, like most wives, one of my favorite arguments has always revolved around the 50% contribution aspect.  You know, "I'm doing more than my 50% of the housework... shopping... fill in the blank". While that may have arguably been true in the past, Michael was however dressing himself, getting his own glasses of water and administering his own medications.  And, he will again.  Very soon.  And I don't mind that part.  What was amazing to me was how much Michael did that I never even noticed.  Dishwasher emptied.  Trash out.  Bed made.  Cash withdrawals. Car gassed.  Errands run.  Okay, maybe not enough to win a Husband of the Year Award but significant.  So, my pals, dwell on what they DO and pray that it's YOU and not HIM that needs knee surgery.  And practice driving your desk chair.

Mexico, My Mexico

It hasn't just been Michael and me who have been having a rough few weeks.  Mexico has had more than its share of disappointment and misfortune.  The first inkling was the Globos Festival.  Now you may remember that the Globos Festival involves teams of locals who create giant tissue paper hot air balloons and create fires that lift them into the air and far, far away.  Except it didn't quite work out that way this year.  Under the best of circumstances, it is a dicey affair.  Held on a soccer field, positioned cheek to jowl, there is a lot of fire and propane and flammable materials with assorted children, dogs and drunks in the mix to make it more exciting.  Conditions were not ideal.  There was a very high wind (a precursor of more trouble to come) resulting in many balloons bursting into flames on the ground.  Which was actually preferable to the ones that burst into flame at like 20' and showered embers or entire patches of burning balloon to the ground.  There were no fatalities.  That was the only good news.

The Globos Festival is only the first event in a three day weekend of parades, fiestas and charrias celebrating the greatest of Mexican Holidays -- Independence Day. So, the Globos was on Saturday and the high winds had turned into torrential rains by Sunday.  There was a reason for this.  Two very significant Tropical Storms/Hurricanes were headed to the West and East Coasts of Mexico simultaneously. By Sunday, we were beginning to experience the wrath of Manuel (and we are a couple of hundred miles inland).  Now, you would expect that every public official in Mexico would be running for the FEMA bunkers (or equivalent if they exist) to oversee the wholesale emergency planning necessary to keep the country from being obliterated.  I mean, come on, two storms at ONCE?  Well, they would have liked to attend to that, but it was the night of the Grito and, weighing the relative importance of the Grito and mass catastrophe, they opted for the Grito.

At exactly 11:00 PM, throughout the country the head honcho of each municipality, state and the President of Mexico deliver the Grito -- which literally means yell or shout.  Hildago, the guy who started the drive for Independence did the first one in Dolores (now Dolores Hidalgo) back in 1810.  And every town hall has a balcony so that the honcho can yell from it.  So, you can understand why, with two huge hurricanes bearing down on the coasts, most folks were consumed with either issuing the Grito or listening to it.  But that's when the party just gets STARTED.  And runs until dawn or so.  And, even though it was raining cats and dogs (or gatos y perros as we say here) the fiesta went on while Rome burned-- or Acapulco drowned more accurately.

By Monday morning, the entire country was hung over, and Ingrid (storm 2) was headed into Veracruz.  Manuel was still pummeling the west coast and something like 15-25" of rain was falling on the East Coast. By Wednesday, 155 municipalities were declared natural disaster sites and hundreds were dead.  By Thursday, Manuel had reconstituted himself and slammed into Baja and Sinaloa (no doubt disrupting drug trafficking for at least 6 hours).

An unattributed Military Official stated: "authorities had underestimated the storms due to a lack of coordination and the distraction of the weekend's Independence related activities".  It was kind of the equivalent of Bush's "You've done a hell of a job Brownie".  I mean really.  A big national party as an excuse?

So, how bad was it?  Let's just take Acapulco, as an example, because I hate Acapulco since our fateful trip last March.  Over 40,000 tourists who had spent the Holiday Weekend there were stranded because the airport was flooded, the bridges were washed away and, if you could still get over a rare existing bridge, every road out was blocked due to landslides.  They would be stuck until at least Friday unless they had been able to bribe their way (I'm just ASSUMING that) on one of the 49 military flights that went out.  There were many crocodiles in the streets.  That was just mentioned, in passing, in an article.

Thank God for Costco.  Lacking food, water and free electronics, the crazed and stranded vacationers broke into the Zona Diamante branch of Costco "under the watchful eye of the Federal Police, who made no attempt to detain even the more opportunistic looters who made off with electronics piled into their pick-up trucks".   Somehow, I hadn't anticipated that sentence going that way after the part about the "watchful eye".  But this is Mexico.  Or New Orleans.

Michelle, You Really Need to Talk To This Lady

It  seems that every First Lady wants to get on the bandwagon of child nutrition.  Some more ably than others.  The Guadalajara Reporter took on the subject of Jalisco's (our state) First Lady who, this week, was ridiculed for delivering unhealthy Pulparindo candy bars to indigenous children at a soup kitchen in one of the most poverty-stricken villages in Jalisco.

How unhealthy are they?  The U.S. Department of Health issued a warning against eating them.  Why? "The spicy, tamarind flavored candy was found to contain lead (.12 to.19 parts per million)"-- and we all know what lead does to little brains.  Lady Pulparindo, as she is now known, has a steep P.R. hill to climb.

Other News

*  We close on our new house on Wednesday (or maybe Friday-- it's a little loose).  They still haven't sold the one we're in (HA! evil landlord). We are packing again and Michael is trickier than I thought.  He somehow managed to transport a Tee shirt he has owned since he was 12 from Boston to Mexico.  If I die first, you'll see him on one of those Hoarder Reality Shows.

*   Our Walmart is always giving out free samples of stuff outside the store.  This week it was Tequila.
At 10AM.  While the cups were small, I still felt it unwise that they were providing it to what looked like  13 year olds.  Then again, everyone's starting to look 13 to me.

*  Our neighbor came over during the Tempest bearing guacamole and stayed for a few glasses of wine. Unbeknownst to us, an ex-Pro football player had moved in next door.  Subsequently, he had an altercation with his girlfriend (sound familiar?) and had a screaming fit and kicked in her door (sound familiar?) and she called the cops.  They dragged him off to Mexican jail which is not much of a treat. He somehow annoyed the police (it is alleged the policeman had "taken a shine" to his girlfriend) and he left jail minus two teeth.  What IS it about those football players?  All the concussions? Were those two teeth real anyway? Those big walls we have come in right handy.
 
* A few days ago, The New York Times had an article about Mexico.  It seems that more people migrated TO Mexico last year than migrated FROM Mexico to the U.S.  Time to up your game America.  And it's not just from the U.S.  I just bought the most amazing baguettes from this couple from Toulouse who left France because the economy was so tough. They had friends who were doing well in Mexico, so they joined them.  Go figure.  Wendy and David -- I spoke French the whole time but it was a physical exertion.  How do people seamlessly move between three languages? eh? (That's Canadian -- am I approaching four)?

So, we're off.  Next blog should see Michael standing on his own two feet and own two knees (well, mostly his-- except for that little cadaver part).  Thanks to all the local pals who have dropped by, fed and entertained us throughout the recuperation.  And thanks to friends and family (especially our boys) from afar who have offered calls of support.  You're all champs. More soon.

Pictures from last year's Globos Festival showing the danger of fire on the ground...

and in the air...

falling to the ground - - - always keep your head up to watch for falling debris.

The Church in Dolores (Hidalgo) from which Father Hidalgo issued the first grito.

Imagine encountering this on your neighborhood streets. Many did in Acapulco recently!

Meanwhile Michael was forced to amuse himself with views of the birds perched on the reindeer ...

and in the trees visible through our windows, ...

as well as the occasional brilliant sunset while he recovers.

Mikey Goes to the Hospital - Round Two

Prologue

Okay.  So we all know that Michael has the knees of a 92 year old and they need to be retooled.  Plan One is that he will go to the hospital and have them both done at once.  He is thrilled with this plan while I am contemplating how I will carry him to the bathroom with two incapacitated knees.  I am assured that he will be able to bear weight on the left, less compromised leg.  Hmmmmmm.  But, says Dr. Gus, if the right leg is worse than we initially think, we will only do the right leg.  They will not know until he is on the table.  I LOVE suspense.  Well, of course, Michael's right leg IS worse than anyone could conceive so, to your delight, you will be treated to Mikey Goes to the Hospital - Round 3 -- but not right away.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Before leaving for vacation we scheduled the surgery for the end of August.  As before, we had to select the hospital in which Michael would have the operation .  Dr Gus suggested Santa Margarita because it had a brand spanking new operating room and was less expensive.  We were on board with that because, obviously, Margarita became a Saint after inventing the drink which, to this day, bears her name.  No, wait.  Jim, our theology expert, says that isn't true. But I don't care because I want to believe my theory.  And it's all about belief right?

The Event

This hospital is right in the heart of Guadalajara and has a definite retro, hacienda ambience.  It is the cosmic opposite of the hospital Michael had his angioplasty in.  Plush real leather sofas give way to turquoise plastic benches. Canterra tiled walk-in showers give way to a bath the size of that on a DC-3.
You get the idea.  But the operating theater is brand new and top of the line and that is what we are here for.  Everyone is super nice.  Do you know that they have nuns in Mexico that are younger than 80?  I swear it is true.  And there are many of them and they are solicitous and smile and make me wish I were a better person.

So, at the appointed time, we arrive and check in to our room.  NOBODY here speaks English. Which, after all, makes sense because it is Mexico and why should they.  It is clear that I will have my work cut out for me in communicating Michael's various needs but I am up to the challenge.  Men come and put him on a gurney.  I am fairly confident that they are taking him to the operating room but by the time I formulate the question in my mind in Spanish they are gone.  Oh well, he'll turn up.  Dr. Santiago (AKA Dr. Hernandez) comes to talk with me and gives me a rundown of what's going to happen.  Dr. Gus arrives and it's showtime.

I now have the surgical math correct based on Michael's unique anatomy.  Whatever the average duration of an operation is for a normal person, double the amount of time for Michael before you waste precious energy worrying.  This one was supposed to go 1 and 1/2 hours or tops 2.  It came in somewhere between 3 and 1/2 and 4.  At around three hours into it, a surgeon came out and approached me.  He wasn't  Dr. Gus but he DID come out of the operating room area.  He asked me in Spanish if my husband was having an operation.  I said yes.  He said that it was over and he was fine.  I thanked him and he walked halfway up the stairs.  He paused, turned and came back to me.  He stared at me.  Really stared.  Once it registered on him that I truly was a Gringa, he smiled and said that he was sorry.  He was sure that wasn't my husband he'd worked on.  I'm sure glad the guy hadn't died or I could have had several very bad moments.

At long last,  Dr. Santiago came out and told me the boy was fine.  Of course, the leg was a total, horrific mess.  It took them an hour just to get the junk (a medical term) out before they could get on to the real work.  Dr. Gus eventually emerged and described in detail what they had done.  Somewhere around the part where he drilled the holes to screw in the cadaver ligament and bone he noticed that I was growing pale and dispensed with further graphic descriptions.

Now Michael had read extensively about the procedure on the internet (I know, I know, we're not supposed to do that) and he said that he would have three small incisions stitched or maybe just with butterfly bandages on them.  He would be able to shower in 48 hours.  Imagine my, and his, amazement when he exited the operating theatre wrapped in ace bandages from his groin to his toes.  Good God!  What could lurk beneath all those bandages?  How would we know if "the site" were inflamed?  We were settled down by our Docs and told that it would all be fine.  I don't get it.  I usually have a very hard time getting over it when my preconceptions are violated but we both just shrugged and said "OK".  Trust is an interesting thing.

There was still one hurdle to surmount.  The checkout.  The bill thing.  I steeled myself for a totally Spanish financial transaction.  She handed me the bill.  $19,000 pesos (yeah, they use the $ sign too).  That's about $1,600 USD.  Even I knew that was too little.  So whipping out my best phrases I said "OK, I know that I pay the Drs. separately.  But then I have to pay for the room.  And I see that there.  And then I have to pay for the operating room and everything that goes into or out of my husband.  Right?"  Yes she said.  "Are you sure that is enough?" I asked.  I can assure you that is the first time I have ever asked ANYBODY if they wanted more money.  "No, es bueno."  OK.  Fine.  We're out of here.  Later we get a call from Dr. Santiago who is having dinner with Dr. Gus.  It seems the hospital forgot the $30,000 (pesos) for the cadaver ligament/bone. Two things.  We are VERY excited that we are probably the only people who have ever exited a hospital in Mexico without paying every, single dime owed.  I mean, it is just not done.  Two.  Times are rough everywhere.  If you are thinking of being entrepreneurial,  I would suggest going into the cadaver resale business.  I mean, one measly ligament and some peripheral bone and you're talking $2,300 USD.  Extrapolate that out over an entire body and you are talking some serious money.  I guess that's kind of dark.  Sorry.

We had been told by friends who have had knee surgery to start taking pain meds as soon as you can -- prenatally if possible.  Stories abounded of leaving surgery feeling fine and waking up about 6 hours later in mind-blinding pain.  Here's the deal.  Michael has not had ONE moment of pain.  Not one.  He took the pain meds but got rid of them about five days in.  No pain.  Actually, that is a little fib.  Last night, 8 days after surgery, he rolled over and got his foot tangled in the sheets and felt pain.  Duh, yeah.  I can do that without surgery.

Recuperation

Thank God we had hired a driver to take us to and from the hospital.  I didn't want to drive in Guad with a cripple in the car because I just KNEW that would be when I would have an accident.  Michael thought I was a chicken but I insisted.  We rolled Michael out of the hospital and managed to get him splayed across the back seat of Heriberto's van.  Upon arrival chez Searles, he hobbled on crutches into the hacienda.  We then promptly installed him in his wheeled desk chair which has been the single most useful item we have EVER owned.  Better than a car.  Better than a computer.  Better, even, than a corkscrew.  Because the house is all tiled, he can wheel himself between office, den, living room and the fish bowl (guest room so named for it's huge window that looks out to the front yard).

Now, at first, it wasn't all that easy.  He had this drain for removing the blood from his knee.  He had this ice machine thingy that you attached to his bandaged area.  So every move involved decoupling him from the ice and carrying his blood on his lap (not appealing, I know).  But things would improve.  After two days we could clip off the blood drain.  Sounds easy eh?  Well, the Docs thought I could do it (they have such faith) but I knew that I could probably kill him in some manner.

That's What Friends Are For

Lucky for us, we have friends who are RNs.  Jim and Chris (actually both RNs AND theological experts) showed up at the house with a hemostat (they look like plastic scissors -- why don't they just call them plastic scissors?), clean hands and that "can do" spirit.  And they did it. Ron and Wes attended and deemed the procedure a success.

The next step was a follow up with Dr. Gus.  Tuesday afternoon (5 days post op) we met Dr. Gus in Dr. Santiago's office in Chapala.  Yes, he drove from Guadalajara to see Michael on his own turf.  Eat your hearts out NOB friends.  It was like unwrapping a mummy and the suspense heightened as a football field's length worth of ace bandages and the shearings of a flock of sheep were removed from Michael's leg.  And there they were!  Three small incisions looking perfect.  No swelling.  No bruising. No infection.  Perfecto!  After we all smiled and shook hands and stared adoringly at the incisions, they were once again bandaged and aced (but just a little).  Gone was the ice machine (mostly) and life could go on.  We were instructed to change the bandages in 3 days.

Luckily, Jim and Chris' friend Angel (another RN who does A LOT of knees) decided to drop by for a visit on just the day the bandages were to be changed.  There is that Santa Margarita working her magic again.  I REALLY didn't want to change bandages.  Once more, the incisions were inspected and deemed marvelous.  We go tomorrow to have the stitches out.  One and a half more weeks of no weight on the leg.  Then rehab.  Then full function.  Then Michael starts waiting on me.  As it should be.

The Bottom Line -- or what you have been waiting for

I'm not sure that we can do a direct U.S./Mexico cost comparison on this one.  It's like angioplasty is angioplasty is angioplasty but knees.... ah, so many ways they can go wrong.  None of the numbers I looked at took into account the cadaver ligament/bone thing - which we now all know is pricey.  There was a calculator that I thought was weird on one web page.  You just put in your zip code (I used Wellesley, MA) and pick the operation you want and it spits out a price.  It spit out $15,000.  Which seemed pretty in line with the other numbers I had seen.  So let's use that $15K even though we know it is low because it doesn't include a bunch of snazzy things that Michael's knees got.  And, in the States, they send you home that same day so there are no hospital room or  famous incidental costs figured in.  Here goes -

Hospital Room:                                                 $    78.54
Operating Room Expenses and Incidentals       $1,427.93
Surgical Teams Fee:
--Dr. Gus, Anesthesiologist, Nurses et al           $3,799.57
Dr. Santiago's Fee                                              $   303.53
Cadaveric ACL                                                  $2,278.01
Total Cost:                                                          $7,887.58

One Last Santa Margarita Note:

As I mentioned, Jim sent me exhaustive notes on the canonization of Santa Margarita which I am ignoring mostly (Sorry, Jim).  However, there was an interesting section on how Santa Margarita still visits the hospital and many report finding her at bedside or chatting with them or walking the halls.  I LOVE that kind of stuff.  Had I known, I would have realigned my aura (maybe I have been living in Ajijic too long) to make me more approachable.  Well, there's always next time during Round 3.

The House Psychodrama Continues

Okay.  You've been following along so I won't go through it all again.  House was sold.  We have to get out.  We buy new, lovely house.  Phone rings.  It is the realtor.  Can she show the house the next day?  What, the house is sold!  No, maybe not... I tell her it is not funny because we would have just kept renting.  She is most apologetic.  But the buyer is sick.  And may go back to the States.  So they want a backup.  Sigh!  Here we go again.....

Take care.  Don't know when the next blog will be.  All kinds of great stuff -- Globos Festival, Independence Day etc -- takes place in the next two weeks.  All depends if I can get out and grab some photos without my trusted photo ace.  We'll see.  Take care.  Have fun.

The entrance hallway at Santa Margarita.

Mosaic in the hallway at Santa Margarita.

Painting in the hallway (presumably depicting Santa Margarita & Jesus attending to the sick).

Interior courtyard of Santa Margarita.

A poster (very retro) in the waiting area on Michael's floor.

Deirdre's couch & bed in Michael's room.

Michael with the anesthesiologist prior to his release from the hospital.

Michael with Dr. Gus (the orthopedic surgeon) & Dr. Hernandez during the unwrapping ceremony.

Dr. Gus removing the final bandages to finally reveal...

Michael's unwrapped knee.

 Nice job guys!  On to Round 3.  Michael's sister Patricia will probably have to have the same kind of knee surgery that Michael will have in Round 3.  While we are truly sorry that she must endure this, we are salivating at the opportunity to have direct price comparisons.  This may be getting a little sick....

Downsizing -- House, Knees and Fur

 Let's Start With The House

Many of you have been to our gigantic, yet hideously quirky, house here in Ajijic Village.  While having its charms, it requires a gardener five days a week and is a maintenance nightmare.  But it is so roomy.... and great for parties.... and induces laughter and merriment amongst our friends.  Hard to give up.  So hard in fact, that we have been relentlessly, yet fruitlessly, seeking a new Nirvana to purchase for over a year.  But  there has always been an issue.  Two story.  No pool.  No casita.  Dark. The list was endless.  We had many criteria.  Among the most crucial were:
- Had to be in the Village
- Had to be one story
- Had to have a pool
- Had to have a casita

We'll as any home seeker knows, 50% ain't bad.  It's not that we meant to violate the rules.  So here's how it happened.  Whilst vacationing, without a care, we received an email that the evil landlord had actually managed to sell this wreck of a house and we were to be out by November 15th.  We were confident a long term rental would be a snap.  Our error.  Worst time of the year to try to rent.  All those snowbirds are soon to be on their way and have snapped up everything.  Damn.  Next approach.  Well, let's go see houses that are for sale (everything here has been for sale for AGES) and then say, "How about a long term rental and maybe we'll buy it (or not)".  Clever eh?  So, off we trot.  And the first  house we see is IT.  Well, of course it is not IT because it violates 50% of our rules but Michael and I look at each other and we both know it is IT.  Every time we've bought a house we just know when it is  IT except for the Wellesley house where Michael had a hard time getting over the giant green tennis racquet wallpaper in the hall bathroom and the master bathroom shower with things growing on the walls that science has yet to discover, much less name.  But he came around quickly.

So we bought it because it hadn't been on the market that long and a lot of people were looking at it and besides it was IT. So what is IT?  IT is not in the Village (Rule #1).  But it is very close to the Village and, if you have the constitution of an Alpine goat, walkable to the Plaza.  But, what it does have to compensate for being non-Village is an amazing view of the lake.  And wonderful breezes because you are up high.  IT is two story but this is really only half a violation of Rule #2 because the casita is on the lower (pool) level while all our own daily living area is on one floor.  IT is in compliance with Rules 3 and 4.

Well, we won't bore you further with many particulars but will include some pictures.  It's about 3,000 sq. feet but who knows, it's Mexico.  Could be more or less.  The best part is that, unlike most homes here, it is tastefully furnished and we could buy it all right down to the linens (very fine), pots and pans etc. etc.  This is important to people like the Searles who, at this moment, own one couch and that is it.

It is, of course, tasteless to discuss cost. However, having laid bare the cost of our medical bills, why should we hold back on housing costs.  This is to provide our pals who live on either Coast the wonderful opportunity to see the purchase price and then go beat their heads against walls.  It was on the market for $399K without furnishings.  We figured we could probably get it for about $365K  We wanted the entire contents of the house so went in at $385 and got it for $390K.  Now, I am going to stop providing this intimate info (dental cleanings $40) if a whole legion of you don't pack up and move down here very, very soon.

Deirdre & the two realtors at the entrance to the house.

Kitchen View I

Kitchen View II

Kitchen View III

Dining area looking toward living room & terrace.

Fully stocked liquor & wine cabinet.

The wooden pegs pull out, the leaves unfold & this table can become a serving buffet or an extra dining table.

The four way fireplace between the living room & the sitting room (to be converted into the office).  The leopard skin goes.  All leopard skin goes.

More of the living room.

The sitting room, currently.

The terrace with a table & chairs for al fresco dining (under cover).

View of the pool (a Deirdre necessity) and the back yard from the terrace.

The downstairs casita with a built-in wrap around sofa.

The other side of the wrap around sofa.

The breakfast bar in the casita.

The king size bed in the casita bedroom.  The pony rug probably goes.  You can vote on it.

The dresser in the casita bedroom.

Casita Bathroom.

View from the yard to the terrace.

Sitting room view of the fireplace.

Master Bedroom.

Master Bathroom View I.

Master Bathroom View II.

View from Master Bedroom to sitting room.

Powder Room sink.

Guest Bedroom.

Guest Bathroom.

 So, that's it on the house.  For some reason we don't have a view of the lake in the photos.  Will remedy soon.  We close on September 25th and will be moved in by November 15.  We'll start moving stuff as soon as Michael can gimp around on his newly reconstituted legs.  Which leads us to.....

The Knee Bone's Connected to the Thigh Bone... or Used to Be

Why life is unfair.  Michael has always been almost the perfect weight.  Michael has always consistently exercised ( running, walking, biking) for over 40 years.  Deirdre has always been "pudgy" and has loathed exercise in any form and has only performed it as a bonding exercise with her much beloved husband.  Why life is unfair.  Michael's knees suck and Deirdre's are fine.  Go figure.  Genetics? Or lack of use?  Think about it.

So, when Michael was suffering very strange high blood pressure  and we went to see Dr. Santiago Hernandez he exhorted both of us to walk more.  And that was a good suggestion.  Except after a simple two mile walk, Michael was a cripple.  To his credit, Dr. Santiago is like "Jeez, that was a really bad idea.  Sorry."  You're basic NOB Doctor would NEVER say that. And, it wasn't his fault.  Michael did not fully disclose his persistent problems with the knees because..... well, he is a man.

Anyway, we have diddled with this blog so long that Michael has had his knee surgery.  But it is WAY too long to get into in this blog.  Suffice to say he is fine -- really fine.  Once we wheel the gimp in to put up pictures for this blog we will begin the next blog entitled predictably:  Mikey Goes to the Hospital -- Round Two.  There will be a Round Three but stifle your enthusiasm.



It's Hard Being a Geriatric

No, not us this time -- Siam.  Having cruised past her 19th birthday we noted that while she still hops on the sofa and bed, her arthritis is keeping her from grooming herself... and she is loath to let us help her.  The predictable result was massive fur balls and knots rendering her less than attractive.  So, we went to Dr. Memo, the vet, for a consultation.  "How do we get the knots out?", we asked.  "Well, we normally sedate them and go at it," he said.  "She's 19," we said.  "Oh, that would be a very permanent sleep."  A new approach was called for.

In deference to her age, Dr. Memo sent his groomer Miguel to our house.  Even vets do house calls here.  Now, for any of you with cats, I ask you to picture the carnage if your cat were lifted onto a table, confronted by a stranger with loud buzzing clippers and subjected to a 45 minute shave down.  Not pretty eh?  What a cat!  It took Miguel only a minute to realize he didn't have to wrap her in a towel to subdue her.  She stood, pathetically crying occasionally I admit, while Michael held her and Miguel sawed away at the knots.  No scratching, no biting, nothing.  Great cat.  For your amusement, a before and after picture are provided.  Cost (here we go again)  300 pesos or about $25.00.  We gave him a big tip.  He was happy, we were happy, Siam was.... happy eventually.

Siam before her haircut in her unmatted days.

The new shaved Siam.

Odd Note:

The intersection between the one big road (carretera) and second biggest road (libremiento) always has someone doing something for money at the traffic light.  Sometimes there are people all dressed in white who we thought were Cruz Roja (Red Cross) for months but they aren't.  We still don't know who they are.  Then there was the Mime (I hate Mimes) who mimed washing your windshield and demanded money. Now there is the world's worst juggler.  I mean not even close.  He has only three objects and during one stop light he missed a catch and  hit a person walking by, he hit himself in the head with the bowling pin and then almost put out the windshield of a bus.  A stellar performance.  He must live a very circumscribed existence given his demonstrated talents.

Well, we're off for now.  But we promise the next installment soon.  Regards to all of you and please let us know what you are up to.  Take care.