La versión en español está después de la versión en inglés.
Today started with a trip to the medical center here in Fuengirola, a 25-minute walk, to have blood drawn. San Geraldo and I call it “lab work” or “blood work,” but here it’s called “analysis.” So, I was analyzed this morning. Obviously I don’t know the results yet, but I do know when I returned from the toilet with my cup of urine, one of the nurses was overcoming a bit of panic. While I was gone the nurse doing the data entry noticed that they had attached my lab work to the wrong patient. This is the story I was told: The paperwork nurse told the nurse who knows me well, “This is the wrong patient. The name we have here is for someone nearly 69 years old.” The first nurse, looked at my records and said, “No. That’s him.” The other questioned, “Could he really be almost 69 years old?!?” I proudly told her it was no mistake, although I currently feel around 117. They said they both thought I was in my early 50s. If I weren’t already married…
I bought another bunch of ranuncula last week. With daily fresh water and trimming, the previous flowers were stunning for more than a week (click here). This time, they didn’t last a day. I should have gone back to the flower vendor, but I couldn’t be bothered. I’ll tell him the next time I see him.
Lunch is done and I’m about to have another siesta. I’m not a huge fan of siestas, but even the nurse today told me to be kind to myself; the recovery from pneumonia can be slow. I wish I could get a weekly polish and buff, like the Fuengirola sign. Enjoy the cactus flowers on the terrace and the flowering trees from my walk home.
Hoy comenzó con un viaje al centro médico aquí en Fuengirola, una caminata de 25 minutos, para “análisis de sangre.” Obviamente, aún no sé los resultados, pero sí sé que cuando regresé del aseo con mi taza de orina, una de las enfermeras estaba superando un poco el pánico. Mientras estaba fuera, la enfermera que ingresaba los datos notó que habían adjuntado mi trabajo de laboratorio al paciente equivocado. Esta es la historia que me contaron: la enfermera encargada del papeleo le dijo a la enfermera que me conoce bien: “Este es el paciente equivocado. El nombre que tenemos aquí es para alguien de casi 69 años”. La primera enfermera miró mis registros y dijo: “No. Ese es el.” La otra cuestionó: “¿Podría realmente tener casi 69 años?” Con orgullo le dije que no era un error, aunque actualmente me siento alrededor de 117 años. Dijeron que ambos pensaban que tenía poco más de 50 años. Si no estuviera ya casado…
Compré otro manojo de ranúncula la semana pasada. Con agua fresca y recortes diarios, las flores anteriores quedaron deslumbrantes durante más de una semana (haz clic aquí). Esta vez, no duraron ni un día. Debería haber vuelto con el vendedor de flores, pero no podía molestarme. Se lo diré la próxima vez que lo vea.
El almuerzo ha terminado y estoy a punto de tomar otra siesta. No soy un gran fanático de las siestas, pero incluso la enfermera hoy me dijo que fuera amable conmigo misma; la recuperación de la neumonía puede ser lenta. Ojalá pudiera pulirme y pulirme semanalmente, como el letrero de Fuengirola. Disfrute de las flores de cactus en la terraza y los árboles en flor de mi camino a casa.
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Haz clic en las miniaturas para ampliar.
18 thoughts on “The wrong patient / El paciente equivocado”
Nice when people think you are much younger eh?
That used to happen to us and I would tell them ‘no kids’ .
117 is just about how I felt this morning starting our hike.
It does take time recovering from pneumonia….I had in grade 8 and it took a while. Take care.
Those two nurses made my day and I refused to believe they were exaggerating when they said early 50s…. OK, I don’t refuse to believe it. I mean, seriously? Still dragging although I did walk in the morning and afternoon yesterday!
Wow, what a terrific compliment! And LOL @ Jim’s explanation of “no kids!”
Jim is so right about the “no kids.” I’ve had plenty of crap thrown my way over the years but when Iook at my friends with kids, I wonder how they do it.
That compliment would have made my day! At this point in life, I don’t think of almost 69 as old. Beautiful flowers!
I remember being told when I was 60 that I looked 50. I still thought it was an insult. What ever happened to looking 25?
I seem to have people think I’m younger than I am but maybe it’s because I’m so childish???
Years ago my sister asked my how come I don’t age and I told it was was ‘gay’ thing; you know, we can’t marry; can get fired, kicked out of our homes, beaten and murdered, but we get to look good always!
Now that a lot of that has changed I hope HOMO HQ doesn’t drop the Never Looks Old clause in the Contract!
Then again, when I was 59, an English ex-pat (hetero) asked me if my pension (65+) was enough to live on!
Oh! A “Judas Tree”!!
I adore it… Jx
They can be stunning.
What a great compliment Must be the youthful looking skin.
Your cactus are looking fabulous. Mine are just starting to set buds.
I think it was actually the gym clothes. I think the body looks younger than the face. But I’m not complaining. I also think they were being extremely kind. We loved gardening in the desert.
We look well aged, like a fine cheese. There is probably someone around who would do a weekly buff and polish, for a price.
That’s me, a smelly old cheese. I got buffed and polished yesterday when I had my beard trimmed. Although I can’t see any difference, it felt good.
Well, the sign DOES look very shiny. How nice that you were mistaken for someone much younger! I can see it.
So those are ranunculus, huh? There were some yellow ones included in that bouquet of bulbs I brought home from work, but if there was a whole plant there it didn’t survive. (I think it was actually just cut flowers jammed into the soil.)
Ranunculas can be spectacular in the fields. Like the tulip fields of Holland (or Washington State). I’ve been pleasantly surprised at what good care they take of the sign. They also planted vertical gardens all around town and do an excellent job with them, too.
You don’t look a day over the perfect age. I am “only” 52 (almost) and have never looked as good as you do (and never will.)
May we always look less than a day over “the perfect age.” And you’ve shared enough photos for me to know how good you look!