Monthly Archives: January 2015

I don’t want to talk about it. And ferrets.

I’ve been avoiding talking about this because I just don’t want to talk about it.  I’ll make it quick.  CB, our beloved doggie, in case you’ve missed pretty much the whole blog, has managed to get himself into an even worse place, health-wise, than he was before.  If you didn’t read the blog before we got to Panama, he was diagnosed with bladder cancer back in late October, early November.  He’s only 8, and he acts just like his same goofy self, so it’s been really hard to believe.  We had a hard time deciding whether we were still going to come to Panama…blah, blah, blah…I can’t tell the whole story again b/c I just can’t.

Anyway, he’s been going to chemo back in Raleigh, thanks to my wonderful in-laws, and the hope was that he would come here after six weeks or so.  Two weeks ago, he was supposed to have chemo, but his platelet count was low, so they put it off for a week.  They checked his lymph nodes too, as apparently they do just because, and there was no problem there.  The next week, his white blood cell count was high, so they decided they should run some tests.

As it turns out, his bladder looked normal.  But he has lymphoma now.  It’s bad.  Lymph nodes all over his body were enlarged (I guess…I don’t know all the medical terms…Beth, our vet and dear friend, is probably shaking her sweet head at my description) all of a sudden.  Just in one week, this suddenly popped up.  Eric’s always described CB as big, dumb and lovable, and ever since the weird presentation of his bladder cancer he’s said that he’s so dumb, he can’t even do cancer right.  Now we know that’s true.

Anyway, they did a test to see which of two kinds it is.  If it’s the “good” kind, he could have weeks to months left.  If it’s the bad kind, he could have only two weeks, which I guess now means only a week.  We spent all day on Monday crying and agonizing over what to do.  Do we go home to say goodbye?  Do we just let the last time we saw him be the last time?  If he has the “good” kind, do we try to bring him here?  Do we keep trying to treat him, meaning really harsh chemo for the rest of his short life?  Do we stop treatment and just try to keep him comfortable?

Okay, that’s all I can write.  I love my sweet boy, and I just wanted to ask for prayers.  I don’t even know exactly what for.  Not only is this the worst thing ever because we’re losing our baby who seem so healthy…and still acts like a puppy, but we’re a million miles away from him and can’t hold him.  We can’t let him up on the couch or take him for walks or give him treats.  We can’t watch him run around or be the ones to take him to the vet.  We can’t let him know how much we love him or hug him goodbye even.  It’s just the worst.

Eric’s also leaving on February 4th-12th to go to the Czech Republic for work.  We have no idea what will happen with CB during that time, but I hate the idea of him being away while this is going on.  However I’m very grateful that Katie will be here.

Anyway, while I really would rather y’all didn’t email or call or text anything about this because it’ll all make me cry and make it all harder, I would really really appreciate your prayers.  I know you’re all thinking about us, and we appreciate it more than you know.  Thanks for keeping up with the blog.  We’re grateful that so many of you care enough to find out what we are up to.

And now for the explanation of the photo on today’s post.  I’ve been meaning to tell y’all about the store across the street.  I’m pretty sure they just sell ferrets.

So you may or may not know that in Spanish speaking countries, the stores are mostly named after what they sell.  Like a bakery is called a panadería (pan = bread), a shoe store is a zapatería (zapato = shoe), a bookstore is a librería (libro = book), etc.  The store across the street has a big sign that says ferretería.  You do the math.

1991 called…

First thing’s first.  Fanny packs are HUGE here.  And not for tourists.  For runners!  I’m not talking about the small pouches that hold a house key and maybe a dollar or two.  I’m talking about what you and your mom wore at Disney World at 1991.  Eric and I took a walk along the Cinta Costera (by the water) towards the Fish Market and Casco Viejo (the old city) one night earlier this week.  Eric had run down that way one morning – actually around 11 am when it was SUPER hot…not smart – and I wanted to see what was there.  Turns out there is a whole park with a clock made out of shrubs, a playground, paths everywhere, grassy areas, gazebo/tent things…it’s really pretty and modern looking.  Kinda Alice in Wonderland-y.  You can’t really tell much from these pictures, but here you go anyway…plus a few of the view looking back towards the rest of Avenida Balboa.

There were some boys skateboarding here.
There are always TONS of people out at night. The paths are really crowded because it’s the only time it’s really possible to work out or take a walk with the family.
A few folks had shaved ice carts…with legit shaved ice. Like a huge block of ice and…I guess a big blade or something. Pretty cool. I wonder how long it lasts in this heat!

So back to the important stuff.  As we began walking home, I commented that I had seen more than a few fanny packs.  So we started keeping track.  I made rules – the tiny runner ones for just keys and whatever didn’t count, if you weren’t positive you saw it, it didn’t count – we were strict.  In the space of about 20 minutes, we saw a total of 17 fanny packs.  ALL on runners!  What do they keep in there?  Not water.  Not big enough or oddly shaped enough for a bottle.  How does that not bother them when they run?  I don’t even like it when my shorts don’t fit right.  I’m going to have to investigate further.  If anyone knows anything about this, please let me know.  I’ll let you know if I hear anything.

After that bit of fun news, I have to report the frustration of the week.  The next door neighbors got a puppy.  And I think they’re trying to crate train it.  The stupid thing has yipped ALL night long for the past five nights.  And everyone here keeps their windows open all the time because of the heat, so guess who hasn’t slept well in five nights?  It’s awful.  We’re getting used to the traffic noise, the car alarms, the sirens…but oh my gosh, the puppy.  They keep it in their kitchen, and those windows are right next to our bedroom windows.  Super fun.  I’ve composed neighborly letters in Spanish in my head all week long, but I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what good a letter would do.  Surely they’re aware that their dog is annoying.  Surely they’re aware that we can hear it.  What are they going to do?  I think we’ll just have to find earplugs and tough it out until we move out of here.

Meanwhile, I’m also composing my review of this apartment for AirBnb.com.  It helps me to deal with any imperfections I find.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fine place.  There are a lot of great things about it.  Eric thinks it’s great.  I admit that I’m spoiled in a lot of areas and that I’m having a hard time adjusting to certain things.  My internal review composition is a good coping mechanism for now.

Oh, and speaking of noises, there’s this odd one that we can’t figure out.  Nearly every day, we hear what sounds almost like a Muslim call to prayer. It only happens once a day though, and I imagine that if it were a call to prayer, it would happen five times a day.  Anyway, when it happens, we run to the window to try to see where it’s coming from.  I’ve only seen the source once, and it appears to be a guy in the back of a pickup truck with a big speaker.  He speaks quickly though and his voice is muddled, so I can’t even tell if he’s speaking Spanish or another language.  And…that’s the whole story.  I’ll let you know if that develops further.

Our Spanish teacher delayed the beginning of our lessons until Monday, so nothing to report there.  I finished reading the Magicians trilogy by Lev Grossman that I had started before we left.  It’s good.  Worth a read, I think, if you like Narnia and Harry Potter, but a grown-up version.  Not as epic, and no one will remember the name Grossman, but it’s entertaining.  Anyway, all that to say that I decided I should be reading a book in Spanish.  So I chose El León, La Bruja y El Ropero – The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  I don’t think I ever finished the series when I was younger, and they’re easy enough reading that I can do pretty well in Spanish.  So far it’s challenging enough that I’m learning, but easy enough that I don’t hate picking it up.  I just feel like I’m reading any other book, only with a few more tricky words.

And one confession before I go…Eric asked me to play a nerdy Playstation game with him today.  One of those where there’s a whole story and half of it is almost like a movie, then you fight a few guys, then chose what the character says.  Anyway, for some reason, he wanted me to try to play, and it was raining, so I agreed.  I picked this magical Maleficent-type character and he showed me how you can customize how she looks.  I mean EVERY detail.  I spent 30 minutes changing her face and picking how far apart I wanted her eyes to be and whether she should have a double chin (seriously, you can’t make this stuff up), gave her horns, then named her Pearl.  What does this have to do with Panama?  Nothing.  I just thought y’all would get a kick out of it.  Happy husband, happy life?  Isn’t that how it goes?

Dumped Trump, conquered the bank, and back to church

I joined an online Expat group called InterNations before we left, and they have a pretty healthy chapter here in Panama.  We had planned to go to an event at Trump Tower on Friday night – over 130 people had RSVPed! – but Eric wasn’t feeling well, so we bailed.  We’ll make it over there at some point, and there will be other InterNations events.  I wondered, when we were thinking about going, what language do you use when you start conversations?  The website is all in English, but people post in Spanish sometimes, and everyone posts the languages they speak on their profile.  I guess you start in English and just see how it goes?  Or maybe you start in Spanish b/c you’re in Panama?  I’m not sure.  Sounds awkward.  I don’t do awkward well, although I’m doing a lot of it here.

I guess I managed to not write about my trip to the bank on Friday.  As an aside, I’m constantly afraid that I’m going to write about something twice, so please forgive me if I do.  I do actually sometimes go back and read what I write to make sure I don’t do that, but you never know.  Okay, aside over.  So I was super nervous about this trip to the bank.  Everyone had been saying that all these banks hate dealing with Americans b/c the US has made it such a pain for Panamanian banks to work with us b/c of whatever paperwork they have to do and blah, blah, blah.  But we really need to get a bank account.  So there’s some pressure on me.  And Eric’s frustrated, and rightly so, that I’ve put off going for a little while.  Oh, and PS, I have to manage all of this in Spanish.  And everyone has told me that Panamanians don’t care at all about customer service, so they’re usually not super nice about stuff like this.  Great.  I’m super excited about that cause I NEVER take it personally when people are mean or even lukewarm to me.

Well, as it turns out, the worst part was finding the stupid bank!  It was in the Albrook Mall, which is just a few stops down on Metro.  Unfortunately, once you get off Metro, you have to navigate the biggest mall in the whole world.  Pretty sure that’s accurate.  After about 25 minutes of wandering and getting more and more nervous and sweaty-palmed, I called Eric, told him I was at the Delfín (dolphin) and that I couldn’t find the hipopotamo (really?  you can figure that one out).  Did I explain earlier that the whole navigational system in this mall is based on sectors that are named based on the giant animal statute in the middle of that sector?  So the poor bank, this professional institution, has to say on its website that it is in the mall near the hippopotamus entrance.  Ridiculous.  So Eric guides me past the dolphin, the pinguino, the carousel in the food court, the rinosaurante or whatever, and finally, I see the hipopotamo…and the bank.

And this is where you find out that the story is pretty anticlimactic b/c the guy at the bank was completely nice.  Of course they allow Americans to open bank accounts!  My Spanish was pretty killer, if not completely grammatically correct, and we managed to talk through all of the requirements for us to get a bank account.  I was out of there in 10 minutes.

Iglesia – Parte 2

We went back to the same tiny presbyterian church yesterday.  Eric was frustrated with me for being a little late.  We showed up at the apartment at 3:06 or so instead of 3:00 when it was supposed to start.  The Lees, our new missionary friends, were already waiting in the lobby.  The first Panamanians, however, including one of the lay pastors, didn’t show up until 3:47.  The last of them to show up – the pastor who preached last week – got there at 4:12.  Eric was keeping careful watch over this…I suppose in preparation for next week.  The good news, I suppose, was that we had more than 6 of us there this week.  I think there was a total of 12, including the 18 month old who ran around, screamed, wiggled, laughed, cried, and whined through the whole thing.  Here are a few photos.

IMG_4173 IMG_4174

Michael Lee preached this week.  It was good to hear that even after all of his time in Costa Rica and Mexico, his Spanish wasn’t perfect.  Or maybe that was disheartening…I’m not sure.  Either way, I could certainly understand his sermon a lot better than last week’s because it was a lot slower.

After the sermon, I had a good little chat with a few of the women that I hadn’t met before.  One was a lawyer, and she explained a bit about how law school and practicing law worked in Panama.  The other women asked why Eric and I moved here and were glad to hear that our main reason for being here was for me to learn Spanish.  They were very encouraging, and I found their accents easier to understand than some.  Maybe they were just speaking slowly for me.  Either way, Eric noticed that things were going well and encouraged me when we left.

We’re supposed to have Bible study at another apartment nearby on Wednesday night.  The Panamanian pastor, Pablo, specifically said it would be from 7 to 8 pm.  I have no idea how to interpret that time.  It’s at an American’s apartment though, so I guess I’ll be there at 7 and we’ll see how it goes.  I’ll make sure to eat dinner beforehand though!

Dinner last night was at a Chinese place.  It’s always a little funny to eat one kind of non-US restaurant in a different country that’s not the US.  Is ethnic an okay word to use for food?  Or is that bad?  I specifically phrased that sentence so I didn’t use the word “ethnic” for food b/c I wasn’t sure.  That’s why it was such an awkward sentence.  Anyway, we ordered Chinese food in Spanish and actually did pretty well for ourselves.  Always good to discover a good Chinese restaurant in a new place.  Now if only we can find the cheap place near home that delivers…

Oh, so apparently I didn’t do a good job of following up about the bugs, and one friend said she was desperate to hear the end of that story.  We thought that the last I told you was the end of the story, but Diana, thanks a lot, I think you jinxed us.  We keep finding wings all over the bedroom floor, but no wormy bug things.  This worries me.  Today one wormy bug flew in through the window, so we took the half-busted vacuum cleaner to the window sill and tried to suck some of them out of the track where the window slides back and forth.  Eric almost let the whole vacuum slip out the window and down nine stories when a lizard popped up on the side of the wall and scared the crap out of him.

In short, the bug saga continues.  I’m ready to move to our new place.  Not that we have one yet, but the one I’m imagining doesn’t have flying worms.  Shocker.

Now, you didn’t ask for this, and it has nothing to do with Panama, but my niece Laine turns 5 on February 1 and had a ninja bday party this weekend.  It was apparently the most amazing thing ever, and I’m going to forever regret missing it.  It took place at a karate school of some kind called White Tiger, or something equally awesome.  There was a ninja demonstration, a lesson of some sort, some kicking and punching, a zipline, and Laine got to cut her cake with a sword.  For a girl who is completely obsessed with the TMNTs (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for those of you who aren’t children of the 80’s), it must’ve been heaven.  Indulge me by pretending to care about the following photos.

Cutting the cake with a sword!
I don’t know what a gold belt is, but I’m pretty sure it’s higher than a black belt.
Look at the focus!
Sheer determination. Eye of the Tiger. The White Tiger, evidently.