BROTAR

Brotar v: (planta) to sprout; (enfermedad eruptiva) to break out; (líquido) to gush, to flow, to issue.

You might not like the fact that this verb best describes my day. Context: In my Spanish class senior year, we had to read and summarize an article about adolescent acne that used this verb more than was ever necessary. Then we had to read it again the next week because the teacher forgot about the previous week´s assignment. You´ve gotta love the Charter Academy. This verb is used surprisingly often in Spanish literature and poetry to describe natural springs or budding plants, but the only mental image I ever have is of pimply-faced Hispanic preteens.

Seeing as it´s a Tuesday, I had my early morning hospital internship today, my last rotation at El hospital salubridad, a small public hospital in Cholula. Although it´s not very far away from UDLAP, we have to take 2 different buses there and 2 back. My internship buddy and I have had our fair share of missteps (literally and figuratively) on the public bus system, but today´s adventure takes the cake. Our 2nd bus showed up and was more full of people than I had previously imagined was possible. When the accordion doors opened, several passengers and various limbs brotaron onto the street. Unfortunately, we then had to employ all our balance and coordination skills to get ourselves on the bus and remain upright. Apparently very few tax dollars go into road maintenance here, except to install speed bumps. Oof.

We finally arrived at the hospital, barely escaping with our lives from that deathtrap bus. This week I was assigned to shadowing a general surgeon and the first surgery on the list was a cyst removal (not 100% sure on that diagnosis or the spelling). Context: a cyst is more or less an oil duct in the skin that gets plugged but keeps producing oil, creating an isolated sac under the skin. I.E. a hugeass zit... Apparently this cyst had been chillin´ in the patient´s thigh for FIFTEEN YEARS and it had worn out it´s welcome. I will spare you the gruesome details but, as you can imagine, a golfball-sized mass that is squished between a thigh muscle and elasticy skin is under quite a lot of pressure and if a hypothetical surgeon were to accidentally puncture the sac during removal, it´s not ideal. Yup, you guessed it. BROTARRRRRRR.
So after they got that under control and stitched up the lady´s thigh, I was informed that the next surgery was a toe amputation on a patient with diabetes. Context: Patients who don´t monitor their blood sugar well tend to have decreased circulation in their extremities, leading to ¨dead¨ fingers and toes. Anyways, this patient´s foot was pretty nasty and apparently infected. The surgeon starting draining the excess fluids (think brotando), then decided that I should leave before I became ¨contaminated¨ to the extent that they wouldn´t let me leave. Apparently this toe was allowing bacteria to BROTAR into the air.

To make up for kicking me out of that surgery, the surgeon sent me next door to watch a C-section. Although I had observed an emergency C-section last week, I was still not prepared for how quickly the baby just appears, all of a sudden. You could even use the verb brotar to describe the mode of this child´s entry into the world, perhaps.

Thennnn, as a change of pace, I ate lunch in the cafeteria today because I am out of fresh produce, peanut butter, and bread in my room. I thought I´d spice up my green salad a little with a pepper and onion mixture which turned out to be MUCH hotter than I expected. This plus the fact that my lips are terribly chapped and sunburned from the weekend´s beach adventure resulted in my sitting in the dining hall, alone, with tears running down my face. I used at least 5 napkins in my attempts to stop the tears and snot that were flowing (BROTAR) eeeeverywhere. Huge. mess.

That is all.