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shut he recognized my voice and began to cry too.<br />

Relieved that I spoke Spanish, one of the nurses lamented<br />

briefly over Patrick’s obstinance and then left us for a moment.<br />

“Coca-Cola” is the same in English as it is in Spanish.<br />

Five minutes later she returned with a small glass.<br />

Over the course of two weeks Patrick became proficient<br />

at certain Spanish expressions. “I have pain in my leg” and<br />

“Can I have Coca-Cola, amigo?” were his favorites. But most<br />

important was the language the hospital staff learned to use<br />

with him. A reciprocal thumbs up or down meant everything<br />

was going well or poorly. Arms stretched out wide with<br />

eyes closed followed by adios meant it was time for another<br />

operation, seven in all. And tico, the word Costa Ricans use<br />

to refer to themselves, was notification that another blood<br />

transfusion was coming. The doctors often joked that he was<br />

half-tico, half-gringo. But as Patrick suddenly declined into<br />

hallucinations and a lung infection, this primitive system of<br />

words and gestures crumbled.<br />

Dr. Izaguirre, the head attending, was a thin man and his<br />

white coat was stiff with starch. As he grew more frustrated<br />

the creases deprived of a home on his coat burrowed thick<br />

and ominous into his forehead.<br />

Patrick’s most vivid hallucination cast him as the leg<br />

segment of a robot. We were merely props in his play, the<br />

setting and plot changing by the moment. Like a stagehand<br />

laboring to keep the lights on and the curtain from falling,<br />

Dr. Izaguirre swooped in and out of the room almost undetected.<br />

The rest of us struggled to keep Patrick calm and<br />

in bed. The infection was improving, but the hallucinations<br />

were not. The doctor was stumped.<br />

Two days went by—no change.<br />

Robotic mimicking and iatrogenic<br />

hallucinations<br />

On day three, Dr. Izaguirre entered and stood over<br />

Patrick’s bed. Like a mannequin from a display window, the<br />

doctor remained motionless in thought. Patrick lay watchful<br />

from below. After five minutes the doctor raised his hand deliberately,<br />

careful not to wrinkle his coat, and scratched the<br />

The Pharos/Spring 2009 33

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