Monday, June 20

Today is a little bit of a sad day, as we're returning our rental car. Other than that, nothing is planned.

We had rented the car for two weeks, plus that first weekend, and today's the day we'd agreed to return it. While it's been nice, it has made for a bit of a lazier, and more flexible experience. I'm not so sure we could have done the beach trips, either to Laura or to the other one, with Kenneth and crew. At the very least, relying on taxis for such timed events would have added to the challenge. The other events, going deeper into “downtown,” shopping, and so on, could have pretty easily been done with taxis. It would have been cheaper, making a buck or few a trip instead of the tens we spent per day just to have a car at our disposal, which meant sometimes sitting in the parking lot.

Regardless the “need or want” of having the car, the term ends today, so we're going to spend the last week or so without one. Thinking of that means even if we are here, we might not be able to work out getting to the Sunday trip. Sure, taxis run that far, and would probably only be a buck or two a piece, but finding one in timely fashion might be tough.

We had a quick breakfast, and made a plan to run to the handicraft shop where the gals did their lesson. It seems they didn't settle-up when they finished, as the gals in the shop weren't aware of the agreed upon rate or supply fees, if any. They'd hoped to settle their tab and maybe get another lesson in.

Not sure if everything was set, I waited for them outside. At first it seemed to be going on, as the other adopting mother came out and grabbed the bouncy-chair thing for her boy to hang out in. Before she made it back inside, though, word came that it wasn't a good time. The owner came back, and apparently another time would be better. They made loose plans and we took off again.

On the way back to the hotel, they asked me to stop at another handicraft shop, so we did. Again, I waited in the car. This shop seemed pretty small, so it seemed like they might be in and out.

While I waited, I observed the goings on at a roadside food stand across the street. A crew of four or five women manned a couple of folding tables under a portable canopy. On the tables were a cook-stove, some tubs of rice and potato salad, and containers. They were cooking some kind of meat (or something that looked like meat—it was just too far across the street to tell), and adding it to containers with rice and potato salad. It reminded me of the “plates” prepared at the BBQ place we've eaten at a couple of times.

Occasionally, a car would pull up, and one of the women would visit the car. She'd return to the table, take a number of containers back to the car. Sometimes she'd return more than once, sometimes with more containers, other times with cans of soda or whatever. After the exchange, the car would drive away. The whole exchange took time rivaling fast food in the U.S. Good fast food service, at that. And “occasionally” doesn't quite capture it. They cars never seemed to queue one behind another, although on one occasion there was a car that pulled into the lot next to the women while another was pulled up curbside. Rather, it seemed that as long as a car was being serviced, no others would approach. But it wasn't long between cars.

Ten minutes or so after arriving, Claire brought sleeping Grace out. I took Grace and held her while Claire went back in and continued shopping. I didn't think the store was big enough to require much shopping. After another five or so minutes, the other birthmother came out and explained that the shopkeeping woman was letting a young boy write up the sales slip, and then she was double-checking. The shopping wasn't taking so long, but the ringing-up was.

We returned to the hotel, where I sat with a sleeping Grace while Claire ran some last errands with the car, including topping off the tank. The tank wasn't full when we received the car, and we don't think we agreed to any kind of fuel level. It was lower than when we received the car, and it's hard to go from a quarter of a tank to three quarters, if you don't know what a half of a tank is. She filled the tank, which is just how we do things.

An important fact I don't think I covered yet, is that gasoline is about $5.50 a gallon. On our first day driving around with Claudia, from the CAA, I'd noticed the price of gasoline at the gas stations, but just the dollar amounts. We'd also seen other prices announced, but for those units were also provided, in metric measurements. I'd asked Claudia then if fuel was priced in gallons or liters. We'd been to Bermuda a few years ago, and it was $4 per liter, give or take some cents. Yes, that's about $15 per gallon. Claudia gasped and said that thankfully fuel was per gallon.

It was the second time we'd fueled the car, but if we were at home, driving our Jeep around (since the babies can't ride on the motorcycle, and neither can three adults, for that matter), we'd probably have filled up more often, and when we left, gas was still approaching $4 per gallon. We probably would have spent as much on fuel for the stay. Of course, with our Jeep, we would have been more comfortable (as we like to sit upright), and would have been able to handle the rough off-road roads better. We may have had some tighter spots in some of the crowded places we drove, as the Jeep is much larger than the Mitsubishi we rented. We would have had the option of taking our roof off, too.

We didn't see too many Jeep-type vehicles. Quite a few SUVs, and a Hummer or few, and a lot of pick-up trucks (small and large), but not many actual Jeeps or Jeep-style knock-offs. Maybe that's a business opportunity, too. I know they make and sell diesel motors (just not in the U.S., at least not in the Wrangler), and that might be a good thing to have here. Diesel is a few cents more per gallon, but has the benefit of typically higher mileage, and also easier conversion to bio-fuel (which is another potential coup to be had here).

Claire returned and lounged with me for a little bit until the car was collected. Shortly after, the television went out. Again. We plugged in and finished off our first season set of The Big Bang Theory, since we only had a few episodes on the last disk.

While we were watching, my leg started hurting. I'd noticed a slight pain earlier, but it was really localized, and seemed sub-dermal. It made me think maybe I'd banged it on something, like loading or unloading the boat, or maybe absently during the day. It started to ache now, though, like a good kick in the shins, and I knew that hadn't happened in a long, long time. Certainly not on the trip, and more so not in the last day.

I've had a couple of bouts of cellulitis. The way it was kindly explained to me by my doctor in the past is that there are good and bad bacteria inside and outside (and in the middle) of your skin. As long as they're in the right place, your body not only handles them, but sometimes needs them. Under different circumstances, they end up in the wrong place, and thus we get bacterial infections. This is one of those.

Yeah, sometimes he really dumbs it down for me.

The first time it struck, before I knew what was going on, I endured the ache, believing at first it was a bruise. It pretty quickly turned into a deep-bone ache, like getting kicked solidly in the shin. It spreads to the joints and eventually other limbs. That ache all over is plain unkind. The discoloration and swelling were what prompted us to visit our clinic, where the first antibiotics were prescribed. It's not really a rash, but looks a lot like a sunburn, but in spots. More like a first-degree burn from spilling hot water. The swelling turned my leg into a smooth taper from my knee to my ankle, smoothing out the shin and knee cap, and hiding those hinge-bumps on the side of my ankles. It really looks like a fake leg, or a real leg with a  problem.

The antibiotics worked, but it took two days before I felt right enough to get out of bed. I was sick with horrible pain, muted by ibuprofen but still there. I was also feverish and nauseated, as whatever a body does to fight infection was happening to me. After a couple days, those symptoms waned, and after a few more, the discoloration and swelling abated. Other than the memory, there was no evidence anything had gone awry. It wasn't until a week or so later, when I visited my regular doctor for a follow-up, that we learned that it was cellulitis.

He explained the bit about the bacteria. I asked what caused it, and if it was contagious; had I gotten it from someone and could I give it to someone else. It is not contagious, but it just happens. He said that while anyone could be afflicted, it was usually the already sick, elderly, fat, or diabetic that suffered from it. I'm a little old, but not quite elderly. I'm not diabetic, nor was I already sick. I am, however, a fat man. He's been on me for a while to fix that.

He noted my dry skin, a little bit of eczema (doctor-speak for that little spot I've had forever, I guess) on each of my shins near my ankles, and slight scabbing on my shins, from where we decided I might have been absently scratching at my dry skin. He gave me a steroid cream to fight the eczema, instructions to keep my legs from drying out, and to stop scratching at them. Also, while he wasn't certain it was a direct contributor, he agreed that an anti-bacterial soap may have been helping, so we should be sure to use that always, too. It had happened that Claire had gotten a different kind of soap for me just before this happened. It seemed that combination of things was bad for me: a fat guy with itchy, dry skin suddenly thrown off bacteria-balance by changing soaps.

He also warned that we needed to be aware that it could happen again, since those that get it once are likely to get it again. He also warned to be quick about getting it treated (like I might put off stopping the aches and pains), as left unchecked it can turn into dangerous staph infections or even necrotizing factitious (I'm probably spelling that wrong). When I asked what that was, he said we may have heard of it as “flesh eating bacteria.” I said I'd be on top of any future potential outbreaks.

The cream didn't quite get rid of the eczema spots, so later he gave me a different one, and that did the trick; my legs are all-clear of little spots. In the winters now, I'm all over my shins with the moisturizing creams, and we always use anti-bacterial soap at home. In other times of the year, I'll give a swipe with the moisturizer, but I usually put it off unless I feel dry, or just feel like it.

I've also gotten the pain another time (or was it two?) since, and promptly visited the clinic. The discoloration and heat appeared almost at the same time as the pain, making it an easier sell when I told the clinic doctor what I thought it was. I had a history, the symptoms were the same, and they're pretty distinct. The swelling came later.

That's probably more than you wanted to know about cellulitis, or at least my shins and me having had it.

In the past, this seems to have been triggered during periods of dry skin, the lack of anti-bacterial shower soap, and some kind of abrasion, including absently scratching. It didn't occur to me in advance, but here we have no anti-bacterial soap, having neither brought any or bought any. While we've been hot the whole time, and it's rather humid, so my skin has been coated in a sheen of cooling sweat the whole time. (What? Everyone sweats when it's 90F outside...) Also, I think the soap I've been using and the occasional dip in the ocean (like yesterday's lounging float) have not been kind to my skin. And between that dryness, and scratching at bugs that aren't there (or chasing sweat trickling down, tickling my leg and arm hairs), both with my hands and the edges of my sandals, I've given myself a little bit of a scratch on the side of my leg.

I began to fear the ache might be another bout coming on. It is a definite, distinctive ache, which I've had the discomfort of experiencing a few times; that deep bone ache. There was only the ache, so far. There was a spot that was uncertainly warmer than its surroundings, right over the bruise-feeling spot. There was no apparent discoloration or swelling. But the ache was getting more intense, and was becoming that same kind of deep-bone ache, now also in my ankle and both knees. I know, weird, right?

Claire, having thought ahead, had secured a week's worth of the antibiotics used to fight it off last time. The clinic was a little wary of prescribing drugs for an ailment I didn't currently have, but getting a dozen or so antibiotics out there isn't really going to do anyone any harm. Plus, we're responsible, and don't generally like to jump on the medicine-first, diagnosis later band wagon. Since I was familiar with the distinct symptoms, and fearing that it was back, I popped one. We planned to keep a watch on the area.

Within an hour of deciding to act, the ache had spread to all of my joints and forearms, confirming for me that it had happened again. We were glad to get a jump on it, as the treatment usually lasts three or four days. If things go well, in that time, we'll have our visa paperwork, and may be headed home. It'll be nice if we can keep the ailment to a minimum and beat it before it gets debilitating.

I popped a few ibuprofen and went to lay down, no longer able to be comfortable on the sofas in the hotel room. I went through a quick exchange of chills and sweats, and fought for a comfortable position. After a while, between the ibuprofen kicking in, and resting a little more stretched out, I managed to get comfortable enough to nap. That's also a great trick from the first couple times; sleeping through the symptoms.

I woke up after a couple hours, nurse Claire giving me a few more ibuprofen. The television service had come back on, and I found How I Met Your Mother was on. It's a welcome change from the Mythbusters reruns and MTV. And I think Neil Patrick Harris is a hoot. The rest of the cast is funny, too, but he makes the show, really. I dozed off again, and woke up later, finding a rerun of Hawaii 5-0 was on.

I flipped around and found a new Mythbusters, where they were trying to run on water, and testing to see if diving behind tables, cars, and walls, or into dumpsters would save you from an explosion. You cannot run on water (of course the video which they were testing was faked). Diving behind a simple pine table or the others will protect you from an explosion's shock wave, provided the size and distance of the explosion match their experiments (or scale appropriately), but the shrapnel may kill you even if the explosion doesn't.

I took some more ibuprofen and went back to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night, and spent too long trying to get comfortable before becoming conscious enough to realize I needed another dose of ibuprofen. Except that they were at some point in the bedroom with me, I didn't see Claire or Grace after that last visit.