This morning I woke up with plenty of time to pack my supplies, don my field clothes, eat a hardy breakfast and douse myself with sulfur and bug spray before Sarie arrived to collect us at 7 a.m. This was my first day in
It usually takes the longest to find the monkeys on the first day, as we haven’t been tracking them for the past 12 days and have no leads on their location. Today we found them after looking for about two hours. Generally we go to where they were seen last and spiral out from there, checking all their favorite trees and keeping our “noses peeled” for monkey poop. Other clues are lots of fallen leaves and stems in the area, signs they have been feeding.
I hiked a little ways away from the group, trying to find a secluded area hidden both from my group and the main path where guides pass with tourists. Unfortunately there wasn’t much cover provided and I had to climb up a small hill to find some. As it rains every night, the ground is saturated and muddy, and hills become thick slides. My scrub boots have little traction but hold up much better than hiking boots with the constant emersion in water. But they don’t provide much resistance on the mudslides, and as I stepped up the hill my feet slipped backwards and my torso fell forwards. It was a pretty controlled fall and I didn’t go down hard, but I caught myself with my forearms out and my left wrist landed hard on a jagged, razor-sharp rock sticking up out of the ground.
The terrain in this area is gnarly, with these unusual looking rocks sprouting everywhere from the soil. They aren’t like any rocks I’ve seen before, and have sharp pinnacles that can, and will spear your skin. Or mine, at least. I looked down at my wrist, knowing I’d made hard contact on something unforgiving but still only expecting a scratch and maybe a hint of blood.
I did not expect a gushing open wound, cut deep into my flesh and separated wide open. It was not a long cut, but deeper than I’d ever had before.
Katie, a PhD student who was with us for the day and knows the area as well as Spanish, walked out with me and we took a colectivo to the hospital. We had to wait an hour and a half after I wrote my name on the list, and I was starting to worry they’d just forget about me because there were so many people coming in and out and I hadn’t even filled out any paperwork. Finally they called my name and took me into the back room. Katie helped me explain what had happened, and the doctor injected the cut with several numbing shots. Then he vigorously cleaned it, which was extremely discomforting to feel and watch him jerking the skin this way and that to remove all the dirt and blood. Then he stitched me up, which I thought was neat to watch since I’ve never had them before. Although, it was surreal to see the needle go through my skin and pull it tight with me feeling the tug and resistance but no actually pain. Just the discomfort of the idea, really.
When I was all bandaged up he gave me a prescription for antibiotics and painkillers, which I figured I wouldn’t fill if they were expensive. I have travel insurance but I got the impression this hospital wasn’t going to ask for my insurance (since they hadn’t even asked for anything but my name when I checked in), and I was worried the claiming process would be too complicated and drawn out.
This evening after returning from the clinic, I remembered that the
I finally found an outside website that had the game live, but it was so slow with everyone using internet at once at our house. The feed was broken every few seconds, allowing for no insight into what was actually happening. But I followed via play by play until finally the connection sped up for the second half and I could actually somewhat follow the action. I piped in on Twitter and finally felt connected to all my fellow students, though I wanted nothing more than to be back at Carter-Finley and on ESPN, instead of watching painfully on my computer in
Yet, I still can’t help but feel a little bitter that N.C. Athletics seemed to have the worst four years in recent history corresponding with my four year term: four rejections to the NCAA tournament and not a single bowl victory. Yes, I know I’m leaving out all the other sports, but I won’t pretend basketball and football aren’t the only two that matter as far as national reputation (although I'd argue that ultimate Frisbee is a close third). And now, the year after I graduate, we have real potential to join the foolhardy optimism we (and every sports fan) have always had.
Also, did I mention the new, live, wolf mascot? Well, wolf-dog at least. But I need to remember to live in the present, and appreciate the work I’m doing now and where it will take me. I will move on and be a loyal Wolfpack alum, watching the games whenever and wherever I can, even if that means from my computer in
Lianne and me at NCSU Graduation :)
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