Yup. You heard it here first. Ellin is lazy. I’ve been telling her to get off her butt and write something because she might lose her fan base. And do you know what she said? She said, “I can’t believe anyone is still really interested in what’s happening here. I mean, I’ve been through every ‘first,’ so what’s the big deal?” Really? I thought she was so much more clever than that.
And then it happened. Ellin had some “action” last week and learned how to navigate the Israeli health system on a more personal level. . . At least when it comes to learning the ins and outs of the local hospital’s ER. Now don’t go getting your knickers in a twist. Everything’s cool and she told me that it was actually a rather interesting experience.
Really no biggie, but it turned out that a virus kind of lodged itself into her breathing and she thought (and her doc) thought it was pneumonia. But of course, it was really wasn’t anything like that . . . just some “Israeliasthma” is what I think she called it. Not sure what that means., though. What could it mean? It was loud? Hmmm. Maybe. She was sounding like a Great Dane rather than a Schnoodle or a YappyTerrior. Insistent? Well, that could be. It didn’t seem to let up for a minute. Heavy-handed? Well, she said it did feel like a one-ton gorilla had taken up residence on her chest, and we can assume their mitts are pretty heavy. In the end, I’m not sure what she meant. Could it be something as simple as her body finally getting acclimated to all the new pollens and spores that are endlessly spewed from the fields across from her house as they combine with the winter’s rain and coat everything in a brown, earthy film? JillfromJerusalem told me that it seems to take new Olim about a year until new allergies and irritants strike them and that would be just about right as far as timing. You think that actually makes sense? Naaaahhhhhhh. Neither do I.
Anyway, from what I could sniff out after her adventure, Zoe and Ellin went to Ellin’s doctor (who has the most adorable, little weinerdogpuppy). Dr. Kazur decided Ellin was a nut for even driving to the office and called for an ambulance to take her to the ER. That kind of pissed off Ellin, who kept insisting between wild gasps for air that she was perfectly fine to drive herself. No surprise that the doctor prevailed and, according to Ellin, the two cutest guys from MagenDavidAdom came and put her on a stretcher that sat up like a chair. Her momentary enjoyment was cut short, however, when the stretcher failed to fit into the elevator if both of the medics tried to accompany her. Good thing that Ellin’s claustrophobia didn’t kick in or she would have pushed the “down” button, jumped out, and made her way down the stairs to meet the stretcher on the main floor. It is a testament to how doggone crappy she must have felt that she didn’t even blink. Eventually they got her to the ER and the rest of the day went as follows (or so I’ve been told) . . . . intravenous, cute male nurse. Tylenol. Another cute male nurse. Ride to the X ray room (accompanied by a really cute male radiography nurse), a few more pills, being the subject of the afternoon’s rounds (where Ellin met one of her former Russian/Hebrew Ulpan mates!), visits by several very cute doctors, an inhalation therapy (she doesn’t remember who gave that one to her) followed by a prompt discharge after 4 hours. Caveat emptor: You do not get a ride out of the hospital in a wheelchair in Israel. Once you sign the papers it’s up to you to find your way outta there!
Later that day, as I snuggled next to Ellin (she smelled like the Vet’s office, so I simply used my poodle noodle to extrapolate where she had been), I gazed at her with those endless ebony pools of mush, aka known as my eyeballs, and asked her what it was like. She said, without hesitation, that the hospital has the cutest male nurses (sense a pattern????) and that it made no difference to anyone if the patients, doctors, nurses, visitors, etc. were Israeli Jews, Arabs, Christians, or whatevers. The ER is just a great equalizer. Her biggest comment, however, was on how amazing Zoe was. Zoe translated and advocated for her, rubbed her back, and made sure she had enough to drink. A little role reversal, I believe.
Meanwhile, back at the poodlepad, not having any idea what was going on, but rather perplexed, perturbed, and pissed that I was so unceremoniously left alone all day, I decided to redocorate. When stuck for ideas, I find that turning to the garbage bag for inspiration makes for excellent decorating ideas. So, to better make use of the copious time I had alone in the apartment, I decided to try my hand at imitating Jackson Pollock. You can only imagine Ellin and Zoe’s delight at my creativeness upon their return home. As for the artistic merit of my work, Ellin says the jury is still out.
Guess you just can’t please some people.
Happy Tu B’Shvat (Happy birthday to the trees!).