I have spent half chasing tests and pills, and the other half asleep, oh and the other half chasing Cloro’s kitty poos and pees…

Does that make sense? <—— Rhetorical question, doesn’t need an answer and I don’t want to know if it does.

I not long ago woke from a nap. Dizzy lizzy came to visit.

Nothing by mouth before blood tests

Nothing by mouth before blood tests

My day started off diabolically… NO COFFEE! Now that is totally unreasonable to expect anybody to function with the remotest sense of decorum without coffee. However, today I managed. I didn’t manage it well, but I managed.

My first stop was the laboratory at the clinic for blood tests.

Now that seems simple enough, that is until you see the sign on the wall. ‘Documents required before tests will be done…’ ID – I don’t have ID, but they accepted my passport number, the next was the killer… CPF (Brazilian tax number) – I don’t have one, I am ‘passing through’. Response, can’t do tests without one! So, I very carefully and calmly explained to the pretty receptionist (remember this was a pre-Coffee situation), that I had managed to arrange the appointment with the specialist without a CPF, I had registered at the specialist without a CPF, they had received my money (remember that R$150 yesterday) without a CPF, I had seen and been treated by the specialist without a CPF; and now you tell me I can’t have a BLOODY BLOOD TEST without a CPF!

I had begun to envisage the new clinic wallpaper

I had begun to envisage the new clinic wallpaper

She called her supervisor, then asked me to sit and wait a moment.

I assumed she had told the supervisor that she had a hysterical velho caduco (grouchy old man) without a CPF causing um escandalo (a ruckus) in reception.

Because by now the whole reception was tuttering ‘bureaucracy’ and knew that this religiously founded clinic was denying an old man a blood test.

Eventually, she summoned me to the counter again and proceeded to book the blood test.

See, it pays to throw a tantrum, something I learned very early in life. It wasn’t a ‘rolling-on-the-floor’ type of tantrum, I managed to retain a little poise and respect, but I got the blood test… after paying another R$105.

It was against the odds

It was against the odds

Hell, it’s MY blood and I have to pay to give it! I managed to avoid another meltdown and was lead through the doors into the inner sanctum to find that the staff had been running a book, he will/he won’t get a blood test.

The nurse taking my blood was on the winning side and treated me with courtesy and respect; and none of the ‘this-won’t-hurt (me)’ bullshit.

I left a happy victim, I even thanked the pretty receptionist, after all, she had learned something ‘everything is possible, even if it flies in the face of bureaucracy.

So far, so good.

Taxi home. Need to call at a chemist’s to get prescription filled. First chemist, power’s out cant do it. Yes, we have the pills but can’t do it without power for ‘puter. Second chemist, sorry only have one lot, I can call the chemist down the road and have them delivered. The second chemist didn’t answer the phone, remember, his power is out.

The power was indeed out, on our way we saw that a fast moving concrete telephone pole had jumped out in front of a stationary bus. Both had come to a sticky end.

Third chemist, yes… yes… great, I got my pills and the taxi fare was climbing.

Home took pills.

Exhausted, need nap. Cancel classes before nap.

And here I am, rattling with all the pills.


Oh, a foot note, Cloro has started pooping and peeing in his pizza box facility…