Dear Diary...

Slightly different format tonight, since I actually wrote this earlier using (gasp) a pen and paper!

I'd have liked to have been here a week before ending up in the hospital. Sigh. I guess I'll hard copy this blog here, seeing as I have nothing better to do. It's an experience though; it would not be at all a good one if I miss the White Coat ceremony.

I'll continue from where I was last night... running out of chicken at the BBQ.

There was a scheduled dormitory meeting at 8 with a *scheduled* party beginning at 10, sponsored by your friendly neighborhood Student Government Association, whose motto seems to be "Chug! Chug! Chug!" Dorm orientation was inexplicably canceled, thus... free time!

Hanging outside Superdorm 1 (my home away from... well... somewhere), I ran into Crazy Cool Chicks 1 & 2, known to mortals as Sej and Melissa, who I initially, inexplicably, mistook for RAs. Hoo boy. I think it was the nametags. Sej appointed herself nametag queen, and before the end of the night, I became Ishie, aka Miss Maleficent. I have to wait the four years before I can be Dr. Maleficent. I was lucky though. Lori ended the night as "Likes it Wet" due to my telling Sej (aka Team Asshole) that she's a swimmer. You're welcome, Lori.

We headed to La Casa (sala?) de Sej y Melissa for Tequila and Death Cab. Good times.

Party was at Aquarium (a bar/restaurant, not a place to watch fish), which is an awesome place on the beach. My choice drink, after hooking up with Lori and David... remember David? was to indulge in a rum and pineapple juice; Caribbean style!

After some ill advised (thank you, security, though he was cool about it) high tide wading, which is apparently dangerous even on Grenada, and a round of Caribs (no Piton? The horror!), I was making my way, NOT drunkenly yet, actually, up to the bar to attempt to get actually inebriated (mildly, I still had Jager regret syndrome), slipped off the edge of the stone path where it met the grass, and as I was falling, felt/heard my ankle make the *pop* heard round my brain.

Ruh Roh.

Yeah... so I knew I was in trouble before I even hit the ground or the pain crescendoed. It's a word now.

Concerned 1st years surrounded me. Beware of injuring yourself around medical students because they ALL have basic medical training and they are ALL VERY eager to use it. So to avoid receiving CPR from enthusiastic bystanders (everyone was actually quite nice), I stood up quickly to go to the washroom and felt... reeeealllly spacey/nauseated and had the presence of mind to realize that my head needed to be at the same level as my feet soon or it would happen involuntarily.

I staggered to the beach and collapsed in the sand to cries of "Whoa, is she all right?" Great. Classes haven't even STARTED and I'm already the school lush. And I wasn't even particularly drunk! The night before, on the other hand...

Rupa, another chick from the dorm, won the battle of relevant medical training and had the ankle on ice getting rapped, and then Team Bravo, aka Lori and David, agreed to give up their night's festivities to aid me home. A taxi was secured by people that had already started leaving (10 in a taxi got him to only charge us 5 bucks apiece!) and Team Bravo half carried me up the stairs for a night of icing and elevating. Fun.

Was I going to let this stop me or foolishly press on? Take a guess. Not a smart move. Due tot he student health center being closed on weekends, I hopped it. We had a, er, less than interesting convocation to met deans and professors in a bit of brilliant planning by the SGA. A "screw off; we're hungover" vibe hung in the air, since the majority of the entering class had dragged in around 4 in the morning, reeking of spirit... or spirits.

After the ordeal, er honorific ceremony, I decided to do some hopalong shopping at IGA, the grocery store in Spiceland Mall, aka On The Bus Route.

First off, anyone claiming Grenada doesn't have adequate amenities in the grocery department is smoking crack or lazy. Pringles, mama celeste pizzas, cadbury candy (!!!), hot pockets, beef, pork, bread, hummus, and generally, a thousand familiar brands. Unbelievable! Expensive as hell, but stuff's cheaper off the bus route.

One source of complaint is that they run out of stuff if you don't go on a Saturday since the shipment comes in Friday. So go on Saturday. Big whoop. They didn't have eggs when I went (sniff, no omelets), but I'm sure that a brief trip to Food Fair would have solved it if I hadn't been lazy, but you're NOT going to go hungry. Do watch the prices though. Some things are very reasonable (like cheese!); and other things, like hot pockets, make you pay out the... nose for the convenience. Spend accordingly.

Back to the dorm and onto the Orientation Bazaar. Fun, food music, far into the night, thus I grabbed my samosas, ran into Jesse from EMT class and Gross Anatomy at Davis (Aggies!!!), and headed to the dorms with a visit from David, who sweetly checked to see if my foot had fallen off.

Oh... notable. THREE, count em, three scuba shops at the bazaar. Wahoo! Though now it looks like I won't be able to dive for a while.

This morning, it was the professionalism class (which I was late to, d'oh!) and then straight to the clinic.

Something about severe inflammation, excessive heat when palpated, torn ligaments, and not walking on it.

Whoops.

Well... I only walked on it for a couple days... and... and... it didn't hurt *that* much!

So after a brief argument about beginning lecture and the White Coat ceremony, it was decided that I was, in fact, being transported to the hospital in St. George's for x-ray. I'll be getting casted for 3-4 weeks. I'm not sure if I have to meet with a probation officer afterward. Sigh.

The hospital is all right though, perfectly functional, despite my trepidation about x-rays in developing nations. They didn't give me a lead vest to wear, which is fine, because I don't want kids anyway. Air conditioning would have been nice though.

But fast! I'm already out, waiting for my ride thanks to the nurse letting me borrow her cell phone. Just as effective, if not more so, than the states thus far. Good motto for us "The United States! Our medical care is almost as good as, if not as good as, the care on a developing nation in the Caribbean!"

And the view! From outside the hospital, I'm overlooking the ocean, which is the most unimaginably gorgeous shade of light turquoise. Big fluffy clouds and the whole number. Paradise... well, hospital paradise at any rate, and they didn't even give me any drugs.