4 - Alpha Omega Alpha
4 - Alpha Omega Alpha
4 - Alpha Omega Alpha
Create successful ePaper yourself
Turn your PDF publications into a flip-book with our unique Google optimized e-Paper software.
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