A Brush With Death, by Gabriel Blair

By Gabrielle Blair

Daniel had been looking

forward to it all day. The movie would start at 7:30 pm, and he planned to meet his girlfriend, Angelina, in the mall shortly after 7 pm. He was wearing his blue jeans jacket, sporty trousers, and sports shoes. He looked good and he knew she’d notice.

He glanced at his watch and strode out into the zebra crossing at a busy Moscow intersection, a couple of blocks from the cinema. Out of nowhere the taxi turned into the intersection and he was thrown to the side of the road. For a brief moment he thought, “This is it! I’m dead.” He became dimly aware that people were gathered around him. Blood was pouring from his face and he could see out of only one eye.

A Special Forces vehicle was passing by, having been called out to respond to a robbery. One of the officers in the vehicle looked out and asked the driver to slow down for an accident. “Good Lord!” said the officer. “I know that young man lying on the ground. He’s a friend of my brother!” In a moment he made a quick decision. “Pull over,” he ordered. “We’ll see if we can help.”

Meanwhile, Angelina was getting anxious. Why was he late? Where was he? She dialed his cellphone and a faint, distant voice said, “I’ve been in an accident. A car has run into me.” That’s all he managed to say when he lost consciousness. She left their meeting place and rushed into the street, looking around wildly. A couple of blocks away she could see the flashing lights of police cars and could hear the sirens of an ambulance. She ran in that direction and when she got to the scene of the accident was horrified to see Daniel lying there bleeding profusely.

The robbery had ceased to be of first importance and the officer of the Special Forces had taken charge. Daniel was carefully loaded into the ambulance which sped away to the nearest hospital. A nurse held onto his hand, speaking soothing words to him: “You’ll be okay. Don’t worry. You’ll be okay. We’re going to get you all the help you need.” Later, Daniel was to say she had a lot to do with keeping him alive.

At the hospital emergency, he was quickly wheeled into the operating room where the traumatologist performed the operation on his brain to relieve the pressure caused by the buildup of blood and fluids. It was touch and go, he told Sergei and Yulia, Daniel’s parents, who were waiting in a state of shock to find out whether their son would live. “We’ve induced a coma and will keep him in that state for better observation. It is very fortunate, when he was thrown by the taxicab, that he landed on the front of his head, as the skull bone is much more resistant to trauma at the front than the back.”

Then began the long night of waiting. Sergei and Yulia spent the night on their knees praying that Daniel would be saved. Sergei contacted the many spiritual people that he knew in their church and at a monastery, who immediately promised to pray with them.

The next morning, exhausted from lack of sleep, the surgeon told them that Daniel would be kept in the coma as long as was necessary, but it wasn’t known whether he’d survive. It would seem that Daniel was not supposed to die. As Sergei told me: “God had other plans.” After three days Daniel was brought out of the coma and he began to eat. Everyone knew that this lanky, twenty-year-old could eat like a horse. Surely his returning appetite was a good sign. And it was.

As he improved, he was moved out of intensive care into a ward with a number of other patients who were in an extremely bad way. A man of about thirty lay like a vegetable opposite him, unable to do anything for himself. His wife came to visit him every day and Daniel learned that they had a newborn baby. Meanwhile, day by day, like a miracle, Daniel was getting stronger and was recovering quickly. His parents began to conceive of the possibility that their son, should he survive, might not end up in the same tragic condition as the man in the ward with Daniel. “God didn’t mean him to die,” Sergei confided in me, “but we all need to change the way we are.” He didn’t elaborate on this, and I didn’t press him.

Thirteen days after the accident had happened Daniel was out of hospital. The phone rang and a jubilant Sergei announced: “Danya is home!” I wished I could have given him a hug of joy and relief over the thousands of miles that separate us here in Mexico from them in Moscow. “Thank you for your prayers,” he said. “We are so grateful for all of you who prayed for Danya. We believe he wouldn’t have survived without your prayers. And he wouldn’t have survived if others, like angels, had not been there to help.” I wiped my tears as I listened. “Did you ever think how you would have faced it if Danya had died?” I asked. “Yes,” he replied without a pause. “If God had taken him, I would have learned to accept it.” What a different phone call it would have been had the news not been so joyful.

Gabrielle Blair

COLUMNIST YOU and Your Doctor Are Your Medical Team

By Jackie Kellum

Your professional relationship with your family doctor / PCP [Primary Care Physician] is an important part of

your life. Without being ‘funny’ it will be almost as important as the one you have / had with your spouse / partner. The difference is your doctor will help guide you to make decisions about your health care as he/she has the medical knowledge to do this.

Selecting a family doctor is a significant decision. Things to consider in this decision are many. Two immediate decision to consider: would you feel more comfortable working with a male or female physician, or does it matter to you? At Lakeside there are many doctors of both genders. Another consideration: if you have a spouse / partner, will you both have the same doctor?

Like any kind of relationship in order for it to work well, good communications are essential. There are several questions to consider / think about when selecting your family doctor, or even evaluating your current doctor: Does the doctor [really] listen and look at you when you speak? Does the doctor respect and value your opinion and input? Does the doctor dismiss your concerns or interrupt you frequently when you are explaining how you feel, etc.? If the doctor is going to give you a ‘shot’ or prescribe a new medication, does he give you information about this medicine? Are you given this important information such as: its name, what is it supposed to do / its purpose, how it works, the dosage & frequency it is to be taken, told the signs that the medicine is working and how long will it take to see any affects, how do you take it [with / without food], how long is it to be taken, and made aware of any possible side effects. Does the doctor ‘welcome’ questions, or act annoyed or too busy, or act like he/she is being ‘challenged’ by you when you ask questions? Do you feel ‘rushed’ when you are with the doctor? Does the doctor answer your questions in terms you can understand? If there are decisions to be made, does the doctor provide options if available, and provide you with a pro-con opinion discussion about each option? Does the doctor respect your expressed wishes regarding end-of-life care - use of “aggressive” or non-aggressive treatment of certain medical conditions? Do you trust that the doctor will honor these wishes ‘when the time comes’? Does / will the doctor make a referral to a specialist if the situation is not in his realm of expertise? Will you / do you feel comfortable talking to the doctor about sensitive or personal health issues? If you believe in combining a traditional medicine and a holistic approach when indicated – does the doctor accept this approach? How ‘easy’ is it to get in touch with your doctor? How does the doctor communicate with you after office hours: - return phone calls? E-mail response to your e-mails? WhatsApp? How do you reach the doctor in an emergency? Does the doctor have a ‘back-up’ doctor or ‘plan’ when he is not available - What is it? Does the doctor treat you like a Team Member in your own care?

Yes, I do realize this is a long list of questions to think about and answer, but the response to each one tells you something about the yet to be, or already established relationship with your family doctor. I am not trying to be melodramatic, but you need to be as informed and involved in your own health care as possible. Think of it this way. Your doctor is the pilot. You have the choice to be the co-pilot involved in your own care, or be a passenger who is just going along for the ride. Maybe a bit of a simplistic parallel, but it represents your involvement in things that affect your life and health.

If you are searching for a family doctor / PCP talk to your friends whose opinions you value [‘consider the source’] about their doctor experiences, pro or con, with specific details supporting that opinion. Third hand ‘opinions’ or rumors should be dismissed.

I strongly suggest that you make an office visit appointment with the ‘prospective’ doctor while you are healthy. Trying to find a doctor and make a decision about your future family doctor when you are already sick is not the most prudent thing to do. When you are sick, your focus is on how you feel – miserable. When ill you want to make a ‘quick’ decision, which does not allow you the time to do some research about the available doctors in the community to try to make the best ‘match’ for you and your health needs. Having a planned meeting will generally give you a sense about this potential professional relationship in selecting the ‘right doctor’ for you. Yes, it is like an interview type of thing, but it is an effective screening technique. In my years as a nurse, this is what I have done when I relocated and needed to find a ‘new’ family doctor. I have ‘ruled out’ a few potentials this way - some of these initial ‘interviews’ were quite revealing and not necessarily such ‘funny’ stories. One potential looked at his watch 4 minutes into the office visit - and he was not taking my pulse. Another ‘potential’, after I explained that I was new to the area and that I was looking for a family doctor before I got sick. This doctor told me straight out: “I never heard of anything so stupid in my life” – neither one got my vote. I have found ‘the one’ that matched my health care needs and earned my trust through this “interview” manner. This process is an ‘investment’ of your time in hopefully establishing a long term professional relationship affecting your health care and your life.

Your PCP is your main source for your general health care needs. The PCP’s role has many components, such as: examine you during visits, treat you, refer you to a specialist when medically indicated, coordinate care with other physicians and specialists as needed, educate you about your medical conditions and treatments. He should provide information about any needed lifestyle changes to prevent future medical complications and possibly developing other medical conditions / diseases. The PCP should keep updated written health records for you on paper or computer [you need to help with this if you are seeing specialist doctors], and provide regular physical exams including height, weight, vision, hearing, and blood pressure checks as well as other tests as needed, etc. And most importantly, your PCP should help you make some of the most important decisions affecting your well-being, health, and your life.

Jackie Kellum

By Sergio Casas

“Martin, come play soccer with us.” “No thanks. I’m too bad to play soccer. Besides, they are about to set up the pozole stand.”

Mago, a girl with a slender figure, long black hair, and a pretty face helps her mom to set up the table and chairs outside her house for the vending. I wave my hand as a greeting and she answers with her beautiful smile.

My older brother and his friends, with flared pants and psychedelic shirts, are playing guitar, my brother is singing “Heart of Gold.” It seems that girls his age like it.

Panchito, my cousin, tells me, “Some of the guys want to go tomorrow to the river at the bottom of the Huentitan ravine. Do you want to go?”

“I don’t know, I’ll see tomorrow.”

The next day I go out and there are the boys arguing about whether or not to go to the ravine. I tell them that I have no money to pay for transportation. “No one does,” they answer. “Let’s go walking,” El Búho (the owl) says, “I know how to get down.”

“Well then, let’s go,” El Gordo says.

We get to the boulevard. It is wooded most of the way, which makes the walk more pleasant.

“How long do you think it will take us to get there?” asks Aurelio. We look at each other, a long silence until Victor, El Búho, says, “Whatever. We are going anyway. Two hours? Three? A hundred blocks, three hundred, whatever.”

“Let’s count the red vochos,” Ramiro suggests.”

“Better to count the Ford Mustangs, they are prettier,” I tell them. “Or we’d better count the yellow public transport busses. Ha-ha. They look like giant wasps.”

Now we are where the plaza de toros and the Jalisco stadium are, one on each side of the boulevard. We all remember the 1970 World Cup. I was seven years old and it was crazy at every game, especially when the Brazilian team was playing.

Already near the end of the boulevard, El Búho says, “That way we can go down.” All I can see is a pile of corn plants but he is sure that the road begins there. We cross the muddy field.

Before we start to go down, I stop and look. It looks like a giant crack, as if a huge snake had passed through here and left this footprint. We arrive at a dense area of grass, trees, and bushes where there seems to be a path. In line we enter, but it is difficult to walk because the wet grass and the slope do not allow us to take firm steps.

“We have to hold on to the branches to avoid falling,” Ramiro suggests.

El Gordo says, “Branches, bushes, roots, whatever.”

Everyone laughs but with a certain nervousness. The more we go down, the more slippery the terrain becomes.

“Are you sure it’s this way?” we ask.

El Búho answers, “Yes, I can hear the river.” Certainly, if you pay attention, you can hear it.

Ramiro shouts, “I can already see.”

A murky and muddy river is what we see. The big rocks in the middle of the river make ridges. It’s an interesting view. When I look up, everything is covered with grass and trees, they look like giant green walls.

A couple of the boys get into the river, sit down, and let the water hit their backs while toads and frogs jump over their shoulders.

One of them yells at me, “Martin, get in the water. It feels good.” “No thanks. I’ll just get my feet wet in a while.”

Panchito is barefoot climbing a big, wet rock. Suddenly he slips, falls, and hits his head against the rock. I run to his aid but I can’t get up. I ask him, “Are you okay?”

He sits up holding his head. I can see blood on the right side of his head. “I’m okay. I’ll be right down,” he answers.

“Do you want us to go back, Panchito?” shouts one of the boys.

My cousin shakes his head no. This situation brings back a sad memory. Last year a boy, about 17 years old, from el barrio died days after being hit in the head by a rock in a fight at a party a block away from our barrio.

We walk a stretch down the river and find a better place to be. Panchito puts a bandana on his head and goes into the river, while I sit on the river bank with my feet in the water. I hear the song of birds that I had not heard before. There

is something moving among the trees; could be a squirrel. I look at the sky, birds with huge wings are, like, floating in the air. It gets cloudy and the sunlight dims.

“It would be a good idea to start climbing before it’s too late,” I say to the boys.

“Don’t be afraid, Martin, “El Gordo says.” I just say “ I answer.

Raindrops start to fall. It’s time to go back. Nobody remembers the point where we went down, so we have to improvise. We go diagonally up the wall of the ravine. The light is fading and it smells like rain. El Búho goes first and the others follow. The climb is slow because of all the mud and the lack of a clear path. Two steps and a slippery slope, we have to hold on to a branch or grass to avoid falling. The slope is very steep, like climbing a wall.

The rain begins and El Gordo is the first to slip and fall. Fortunately, a tree stopped him in time before he continued to the bottom. The despair begins. El Gordo does not stop complaining. “We are not going to get to the top before the light goes out. What are we going to do? We are going to fall and die.”

“Do not say stupid things,” Aurelio tells him.

I try not to think, only to walk and make sure there is something to grab on each step.

Now we try to go more vertically but the rain water runs stronger. Suddenly we come to a cliff face. We have to go back and try somewhere else. Lightning lets us see for a split second where we are standing. I feel like someone or something is watching me. In the darkness two round lights shine like luminous eyes of fire. It looks like a dragon. Is it my guardian angel?

Ramiro slips and falls a few meters until he grabs something that stops him. We make a chain holding hands and take off our belts to reach him to help him up.

El Gordo keeps babbling. He’s tired like everyone else, he’s scared like everyone else, but he expresses it the most.

Someone shouts, “A light!” I see a light up there.

“It is not the moon?” another says.

“It is cloudy. It must be a lamp, maybe from the park at the end of the boulevard.”

We accelerate the pace until we reached a flat clearing. It is a lamp. We have reached the top.

We all celebrate with shouts and nervous laughter, but this is not over. There are still kilometers to go and the rain continues.

Soaked and muddy, we start the return to the barrio. The city is quiet. On Sunday night some families return to their homes after visiting grandma. The puddles reflect light on the streets.

El Gordo continues complaining. “My shoe is broken. Tomorrow I have to go to help my dad in the workshop and I have no other shoes. My dad is going to scold me.”

“We will all have problems if we are late,” I say.

A truck stops at one side. An old man wearing a hat drives it. “Where are you guys going?”

“Near the Morelos Park, sir.”

“Get in, I’ll pass by there.” We get in the box and sit down. The rain is disappearing. “Let me know where you want to get off.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“You said you knew the way, Búho,” Aurelio says. “I can see that they call you Búho for your face, not for being smart.” We all laugh.

El Búho says, “Shut up.”

“Sir, at the corner we get off.” We all jump out of the truck. “Thank you, thank you.”

We walk two more blocks and turn the corner. It feels good to get home. El Gordo, with his shoe in his hand, and all of us are dirty and wet. The girls from the barrio are the first to see us. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing. We couldn’t get out of the Huentitan ravine,” someone replies.

“Holy cow. You look terrible,” Mago says.

They all start asking questions. One of my sisters sees me and says, “Look at you. There is hot water ready. Go home and take a shower.”

“Yes,” I replay.

I look at the boys, happy that we were able to return.

“Panchito, tell my aunt what happened to you so she can cure you and maybe take you to the doctor.”

“Yes, I will tell her,” he says.

“See you later,” I say and go straight to the shower.

My mom is busy in the kitchen. After showering I am ready to go to bed. I am tired and with pain all over my body from many scratches and small wounds, I slept restlessly. In the middle of the night, I jump, still struggling not to fall down.

I wake up after midday. I go out and sit on the sidewalk next to a lamp post. A neighbor turns on the radio. “It is a beautiful day in La Perla Tapatia with a clear and clean sky.” Must be a joke, I say to myself.

Mago helps her mother get chairs and tables out for the sale of pozole. I greet her and she smiles at me. What a beautiful face.

Doña Maria looks out the door, side to side; there is no news for her report today.

I sigh deeply, happy to be part of another ordinary day in the barrio.

Sergio Casas

Verdant View

By Francisco Nava

August

August’s official birth flowers include the gladiolus and poppy.

August, eighth month of the Gregorian calendar. It was named for the first Roman emperor, Augustus Caesar, in 8 BCE. Its original name was Sextilus, Latin for “sixth month,” indicating its position in the early Roman calendar.

August 1, traditionally known as Lammas Day, was a festival to mark the annual wheat and corn harvest. Lammas also marked the midpoint between the summer solstice and autumn equinox, and was a crossquarter day.

From experience we know that a whole packet of zucchini seeds produces just too many squashes. Our refrigerators and freezers are filled with casseroles and breads. And you know your neighbors hide when you smilingly approach with your basketful of four-inchthick zukes. Next time, you can make do with just one or two plants, even though they’re cute when tiny.

When you plan the layout of your fall and winter gardens, consider which new crops should follow those just removed. Follow your heavy feeders with light feeders, and vice versa. Heavy feeders include beets, broccoli, cabbage, celery, collards, corn, cucumbers, eggplant, endive, escarole, kale, kohlrabi, lettuce, okra, parsley, pumpkins, radishes, rhubarb, spinach, squash, and tomatoes. Light feeders include carrots, chard, garlic, leeks, mustard, onions, parsnips, peppers, potatoes, rutabaga, shallots, sweet potatoes, and turnips.

Fertilize tasseling corn and other vegetables that are setting such as beans, cucumbers, eggplants, tomatoes, etc. This will produce increased yields. Plants appreciate this extra boost in food to use immediately in maturing their fruits.

Don’t forget to keep up with weeding and pests, which are aggressively growing and multiplying this month.

It seems too hot during the days to think about doing anything now but harvesting, watering, and escaping the heat, but think ahead to winter vegetables and start sowing. You’ll have a winter gold mine in your garden if you start seeds for overwintering crops this and next month.

Simple household baking soda will get rid of mildew in your home and garden. Dissolve about1.5 teaspoons a gallon of water. Indoors, wipe the solution on windowsills or other mildewed areas. In the garden, spray it onto plant leaves weekly or after rain or sprinkling. The baking soda serves both as a preventative and a cure. Mildew spores cannot spread or reproduce, so their development is stopped.

What to plant in August

It is still warm and rainy and the viveros/nurseries have marigolds, zinnias, cosmos, sunflowers, phlox, cleome and kniphofia (red hot poker), as well as other goodies like cyclamen and penta.

You can still plant the hot weather veggies as it won’t be cold until late October and most take 60 to 90 days to mature. Start asparagus seeds in individual containers for ease in later transplanting. You can plant artichokes, both Globe and Jerusalem, anytime from July to November. Do plant celosia, snapdragon, phlox, petunia and stock seeds now. Also, Gloriosa lily can be planted, which is easy to grow and is an exotic, climbing lily-type flower.

This is your last chance to prune your poinsettias for Christmas bloom. Keep up with weeds, fertilizer and pest control and deadheading. Cut back your herbs. They’ll just keep growing. Freeze or dry what herbs you don’t use immediately.

Find at the hardware stores or order whatever veggie seeds you will be starting in September. Your gardening friends are excellent sources for seeds and cuttings. Try exchanging some of your seeds and cuttings with theirs. Put garden clippings and non-oily, nonmeat kitchen waste into the compost pile. The garden pests are out in full force. Keep an eye out for them and deal with problems at once, before they get out of hand.

Francisco Nava