Yesterday I killed a snake, I am miserable, and I will never do it again….

Yesterday was one hell of a day.

Iza has been sick for the last three or four days and I am doing my best to make sure she is ok. She has been crying consistently, running a slight fever, eating very little and just has not been her happy smiling self. She wakes up 3 or four times a night crying and I rock her back to sleep.

I’m pretty tired.

Rache is in New York working her ass off to provide for us.

Yesterday I decided to find a doctor for her and looked at a list of options that our landlord offered us. There was an American doctor and a few naturopathic doctors in neighboring towns. I opted for the American doctor because, quite frankly, my Spanish completely sucks. Fortunately my wonderful nanny Marta came along with us to ease the burden of communication if I couldn’t find the clinic. And I’m so glad she did. We ended up going to the wrong town, San Marcos, to find the doctor but Marta ran into a friend as we were searching aimlessly. Her friend told us that there was a great clinic in town that practiced natural medicine and that we should go there. We quickly found the clinic and went inside. It felt right immediately. The place was spotless and the people that worked there also knew Marta and were extremely kind (like most of the people we have met here). Behind the reception desk were shelves upon shelves of little carefully marked brown bags full of herbs and plants and such. A beautiful site.

But what does this have to do with killing a snake?

Almost immediately the doctor came and ushered us into the examination room. He asked a few questions and Marta did her best to translate what I didn’t understand. Then doc checked Iza, felt her throat glands, and ascertained right away that she had an infection. I can only assume bacterial. He didn’t seem worried so I felt better. Back at his desk he wrote out a prescription and went to get three bags of dried herbs for tea, some fresh green leaves and a small bottle of drops to take orally. After we gave Iza the drops she almost immediately calmed down. Muy tranquilo. Things were going well.

So we paid Q150 for the services and medicine (maybe $25) and headed back to the dock to catch the taxi boat back to Santa Cruz. Along the way I stopped in a tienda for dos cervezas to take back with me. I knew they were going to be much appreciated later in the evening. Consumed that afternoon, they never made it that far.

At the dock we got on the boat and in no time were back at our landing. Iza was really chill at this point and starting to quietly fall asleep. So we jumped on the trail and headed back up to Casita Blanca. Another peaceful ten minutes along the gently flowing creek through the forest and we were at the gate of the house. Suddenly hear Marta yell. Ahhh!

A snake was blocking the entrance. I had read about venomous snakes in the area and ignorantly thought it was a poisonous yellow beard. I thought about it for a moment then decided to grab a rock and kill it; and I did. Dumb ass! How could I have done this. Fear for my baby and my nanny made me react in the wrong way and now I have to live with what I have done. After I killed it I saw next to it a large bloody mouse that it had just killed.

The cycle of life was right before our eyes. Iza is sick and plants are there to heal her. The mouse eats the food it finds in our kitchen. The snake eats the mouse. I, stupid fucking white man (see my favorite movie of all time, Jarmusch’s “Dead Man”), kill the snake.

Turns out the snake was actually a scorpion hunter and it was there protecting us and helping us.

And I now know that I will never kill a snake again unless it is an absolute last resort.

At least the journey proved fruitful. Iza seems to be slowly getting better and hopefully she will be up and around in the next few days. If not it’s off to the American doctor, most likely for a dose of antibiotics. Hopefully, we won’t have to resort to that.

But that’s Ra’co life, 50/50. We do the best we can.

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