Image

Illness is the night-side of life

Captura de pantalla 2016-02-22 a la(s) 9.08.18 PM.png

Picture is a repost from Julie Flygare.

La enfermedad es el lado nocturno de la vida, una ciudadanía mas onerosa. Cada persona al nacer posee una ciudadanía dual, en el reino de los sanos y en el reino de los enfermos. Aunque todos preferiríamos sólo utilizar el pasaporte bueno, tarde o temprano cada uno se ve obligado, al menos por un tiempo, a identificarse como ciudadano de aquel otro lugar.

Taking my bad passport and heading home, to the other place.

Advertisements

Going Home

So, long story short, I had my follow-up for my sleep study, and the sleep clinic isn’t going to give me any medicine, for reasons that are dubious at best. So I’m a little out of options now.

I haven’t left my apartment in about a month except to go to school, the grocery store, and my private classes. Even when I’m at school, I feel like a zombie, or like a shell of a human being. I don’t think I have a personality anymore, all my energy goes into not falling asleep. I can’t string sentences together, not in English or Spanish. My room is a wreck because I can’t keep up with all the things required to make my space neat. All I eat is bread and frozen pizzas because trying to figure out meals and groceries and everything related with food planning is overwhelming and I just can’t rely on food that can’t be eaten immediately. I’m too tired to prepare even simple things.

I don’t want to be like this, but I can’t change my situation through sheer willpower — even though I’ve been trying. So I’m going home.

I had planned to go back to the United States at the end of the semester, but this week I realized that it really can’t wait. So I’m going home next Friday, I’ve got a week to pack up and say goodbye to people.

The good news is that I’ll be able to get Xyrem in the US — probably — and that could turn everything around. If my insurance approves Xyrem, I could even get a supply to take to Spain in the fall so that I can come back and teach another year. So I will hopefully be able to come back.

But I really don’t want to leave. I love Spain, and I keep hoping that things will get better, that I’ll have a day where I feel okay and I’ll be able to go to Madrid or travel a little or something. But I never have days like that, so I need to go home and get my health sorted. It really, really sucks.

Excursión to Madrid

Yesterday, I went with one of my classes to the National Museum of Archeology in Madrid.

On the bus ride there, I tried my best to stay awake and look at the ugly, flat scenery as we approached the city. As the roads narrowed and the traffic increased, Juanra, my best teacher friend, leaned over and told me we had about 15 minutes before arriving if I wanted to take a nap. He sees me every day and can tell, more than anyone, when I’m tired. I’m never sure what gives it away, because I always think that I’m being normal. My mom says you can see it in my eyes.

So I slept for a few minutes before we arrived at the museum. Juanra’s voice woke me up, and he apologized for waking me, but it didn’t matter because I felt slightly better.

At the museum, I was in charge of keeping the 12-year-olds from

1) touching the priceless artifacts

2) taking pictures of the genitals on the statues, and

3) running away.

I was only marginally successful at all of this.

I tried to pay attention as the teacher I was helping talked about the different exhibits, but even though the words entered my brain, they wouldn’t stay there. I listened to everything as best I could, but it was like I breathed the words in and out, like oxygen, and I couldn’t tell you a single thing he said.

We saw a cast of Lucy’s skeleton and statues from the ancient Greeks, and Egyptian sarcophaguses. In the Egypt exhibit, I turned around and suddenly all the wooden floors and all the hallways were slanting towards me, like I was at the bottom of a pit. A group of teenagers were coming towards me, walking down the steeply slanted hallway like it was a ramp, but they were huge, way bigger than any humans should be, and I stared at them because they were a strangely scary.

This isn’t real, I told myself. This is a dream. Museum hallways don’t have slanted floors. But I could still see the floors and they were very slanted. Think of all the museums you’ve been to. Weren’t they all completely flat? Museums don’t make uneven floors. This isn’t real.

My class was leaving the exhibit, walking up the floors, and I as I caught up with them I could feel under my shoes that the floor was flat, and in the next room things looked more normal.

museo_9143_622x.jpg

After the tour, I had a coffee in the museum cafeteria with Juanra and Esperanza, the young, beautiful, and extremely kind philosophy teacher, while the students ate outside in the rain. It’s the first year for all three of us at our school, so Juanra and Esperanza chatted about their classes and their impressions of the institute, while I listened. It’s very hard to talk these days, in both English and Spanish, so usually I prefer not to try.

Juanra said he was a disaster in the classroom, which isn’t true, and I know because I have class every day with him, and I wanted to say something but the thought of opening my mouth was overwhelming, so I kept quiet. I felt guilty, listening to Juanra speak freely to Esperanza in Spanish — we generally speak only in English, which is his second language, and it’s not as easy for him to express himself with precision.

I’d like to speak in Spanish, but my brain works so slowly. It’s hard to string together a sentence in English, let alone Spanish, and I’m sick of feeling humiliated when people hear my pauses and stuttering and assume that my level of Spanish is quite low. In reality, podría hablar fácilmente el español, si tan solo pudiese pensar con claridad y tener el cerebro que tenía antes.

So for the sake of my pride, I stick to English with Juanra, and miss out on hearing his unfettered thoughts.

At one point, Esperanza became very worried that my level of Spanish comprehension was quite low, since I wasn’t talking, and she had been speaking Spanish to me all day. I had to assure her that I understood everything — which is true — and that I prefer to just listen — which is not true, it’s not a preference, it’s a necessity. 

On the bus ride back to Alcorcón, I fell asleep, but this time I felt worse off when I woke up. When we arrived at school, I stumbled to the bathroom to take more medication, but it didn’t help, and when it was time for me to go home I found myself suddenly in the staff room, trying to leave, but I would blink and find that I had stopped moving after only a few steps, over and over, and I was very confused.

How to Speak Spanish Like a Native

You’ve probably figured out by now that truly mastering a second language is difficult. It takes time, patience, and dedication.

However, if you ever visit Spain and want to blend in flawlessly without the hassle of actually learning Spanish, you really only need to know five phrases. With these up your sleeve, you’ll be able to have a typical Spanish conversation without a single problem! Nobody will ever guess that you’re a guiri (that’s Spain Spanish for ‘gringo’)!

The Only Five Phrases You’ll Ever Need:

Buenas: Only guiris say ‘hola’. Whenever you greet somebody, say ‘buenas’, as in buenas tardes or buenas noches (if it’s the morning, you can say ‘buenos’, short for buenos días, but let’s be real, you’re not getting up that early anyway).

¿Que tal?: Forget ‘Como estás’, that’s not what Spaniards say. You can ask about pretty much anything using ‘Que tal’, which is useful if you’re not in the mood to form actual sentences. ¿Que tal tu dia? ¿Que tal te va? ¿Que tal el trabajo? So native!

Vale: Want to reassure the locals that you’re following them, even though you really haven’t understood a thing? ‘Vale’ is the phrase for you! It means something like ‘Okay’, ‘Right’, or ‘I get it’, and you can say it literally whenever you want. Try to develop a look of perfect comprehension when saying ‘Vale’, because chances are you have no idea what’s going on, but it hurts your pride to tell a native speaker that.

Joder: The f-bomb. Like ‘vale’, you can say this whenever you want, including in front of your students, without fear of using the word incorrectly. It’s always appropriate to say ‘Joder’.

Hasta luego: Don’t say ‘adios’, that’s what gringos do. You need to say ‘hasta luego’, see you later, even if chances are good that you will never see this person again. To REALLY blend in with the locals, try to drop as many letters from this phrase as you can until it becomes a nearly indecipherable ‘TAUEO’. Say this loudly and with confidence.

These five phrases make up probably 75% of the conversations I have here in Spain. Really, this is all you need to know!

Example Conversation:

Me: Buenas!

Friend: ¡Helen! Joder. ¿Que tal?

Me: Bien.

Friend: Vale.

Me: Vale, TAUEOOO

Friend: TAUEOOO

The Best Thing About Spaniards

I really, really love living in Spain. It’s wonderful — my only regret is that I can’t participate more fully in la vida española (thanks, narcolepsy). 

I know that it’s not good to make generalizations about an entire country, blah blah blah, but since day one I’ve been constantly struck by how generous Spaniards are. They give things away without a second thought, and without my asking for anything!

Here is a sampling of the things I’ve been given during my two months here in Spain:

-An absurd amount of free food, drinks and coffee for no reason;

-It was drizzling one day when I went to the bar, and one of my waiter friends disappeared briefly and returned with a fancy umbrella of unknown origin, insisting I keep it;

-Juanra, my favorite teacher, gives me plums, bread and, most recently, a map of Lisbon, Portugal, where he visited on a weekend trip;

-In Segovia, not only did my friends pay for my cochinillo, but one of them also bought me a piglet-shaped magnet/bottle opener as a souvenir;

-Today, I visited the bar, and one of the regulars, a young-ish dude with wild dark hair and bright blue eyes, produced a potted plant out of nowhere and gave it to me as a gift. I thought it was a joke, but he insisted that I keep it. IMG_1549

Thank you, bar regular!

Sleep Study in Spain

There’s only one medicine, sodium oxybate, which treats all the symptoms of narcolepsy — daytime sleepiness, sleep attacks, REM intrusions, the whole deal. I’ve never tried this drug because it’s very tightly controlled, but it’s life-changing for so many people with narcolepsy, and honestly, my life needs changing. The medication I’m on doesn’t cut it, and my quality of life is poor. 

So, I’ve started the process here in Spain to get sodium oxybate. The first step, after an initial appointment with a sleep specialist, was to undergo a sleep study to confirm that I have narcolepsy, which I did this past Wednesday and Thursday at the Institute of Sleep in Madrid. I’ll write more about my experience during the sleep study later — for now, enjoy this picture of me all wired up!

(Actually, after this was taken, I got tubes in my nose and electrodes on my neck, chest and hands, too. I felt like a cyborg!)