Panama

The day of Roger’s cabalgata was blessed with beautiful sunshine. Over 85 horses clopped through the stable’s pathway. There we had set up bails of hay, chairs, and tables for the revelers to hang out while waiting for the start of the ride.

GOTTA CABALGATA

A cabalgata, which literally translates to cavalcade, is a popular way of getting riders together for a celebratory ride.  In most cases, there is one person who sponsors that huge event. They spend a load of money on food and alcohol, especially on alcohol which is typically handed out with abandon to the riders and spectators alike.

While the riders arrived and gathered around, we served pancakes and coffee. The option of adding rum to the latter proved to be popular even at the morning hour of 9 AM.  We saw some familiar faces that we have met since the beginning of our stay here in the hacienda almost two months ago.  I’m always surprised by how long we’ve been here every time I try to remember when we arrived.

There was Michael, a retired surgeon; Margie, a businesswoman from Texas who had moved here years ago; Saroya, a belly dancing instructor; Jimmy, Chichi, and his family who own a large part of Boquete real estate; Ron and Loesje who volunteer at a disability charity who later gave us another volunteer opportunity; and many more.

We also met some new faces who turned out to be longtime friends of Roger. Some of them were very close to Roger’s wife Margret who passed away a little more than a year ago.  There was Emily who spent many days with Margret near the end.  She brought along two girls who offered to cook the pancakes – a wonderful surprise since the two people who volunteered to flip pancakes did not show up.

THE RIDE BEGINS

By 11 AM the usually quiet Establo Goleta was abuzz with people, and some riders began mounting their horses.  The arrival of the last few latecomers trickled out, and some of the eager riders started down the trail.  The cabalgata was underway.  It took about an hour for the last few riders to get on the trail.  We loaded the volunteer truck with rum, cans of beer, and soda, to be handed out to the riders throughout the jaunt.

Roger and Jimmy were part of the last few riders to head out.  Roger had been so busy that morning that he hadn’t eaten yet so he asked Trinity for a couple of pancakes slapped together with honey in between.  He ate it while riding off to the trail – the multi-millionaire cowboy who is in his element whether partaking in a nine-course meal or an improvised pancake sandwich.

By noon, the stable was deserted.  We breathed a tiny sigh of relief as we had about three hours until the riders return.

PREPARATIONS

The previous day, I spent the entire afternoon baking and decorating 110 cupcakes. Belen, the lady who regularly cleans the hacienda, was behind the stove all day making a very large pot of sancocho, a traditional Panamanian chicken stew.  Trinity helped in loading an obscene amount of beer in the stable fridge and coolers.

Unlike most of the cabalgatas that we’ve heard of which are typically rides through city streets, Roger’s ride meanders through forest and mountainside trails with very minimal road sections.  They had cut a new trail through some of Jimmy’s wide expanse of property just the week before. The final day of trailblazing culminated in a night of impromptu food and drinks at Roger’s place.  Trin and I were on the hook for feeding them on a very short notice.  We didn’t mind.  We always get to join the party and that night was filled with Panamanian stories from locals we have come to love.

TIME TO EAT

At around 2 PM some of the riders started arriving back from the trail, just as Trinity had the grill hot and ready for the hamburgers.  The tables gradually filled up with hungry, and some inebriated, riders.  For the next few hours, Trin and I served bowl after bowl of sancocho, flipped burgers, and refilled drinks, with the help of the stable hands and gardeners.

The band arrived and boots hit the cobblestone as the dancing commenced and bottles of rum disappeared.

Everybody had a jolly good time, even the rain that later came upon us could not dampen anybody’s spirits, as the dancing continued.  Kids played in the riding arena and people wandered around the property enjoying the gardens.

I kept my eyes on the tile floor as I was wheeled toward the x-ray room.  I was in a wheelchair in a flimsy hospital gown, the kind that sort of closes in the back, barely.  I’m sure there are a lot of considerations in the gown’s design, but there has to be a better one.  En route, we passed through the emergency room waiting area filled with people.  I made eye contact with no one.  

After the x-rays, they wheeled me down the hallway again into the EKG room where they ramped up the humiliation by pulling the gown down so they could attach little probes all around my heart area.  

YOU CLUMSY, ME HUNGRY

This was how the day of my knee surgery began.  Thankfully the hospital staff was very professional.  I’ve had no food nor water since the previous night.  They admitted me to a private room in the morning and conducted the tests that included the x-rays and EKG.  

A phlebotomist came in to draw my blood samples and hook up an IV.  He did not use gloves and seemed awkward trying to switch between the vials of blood.  He ended up getting blood all over his hands, some on my hand and a bit on the sheets.  Different country different practice, but so far I’ve been treated with respect and care.

By 10 AM I was ready for surgery, but I had to wait.  There were three other surgeries before me.  They estimated that I would be in surgery at 2 PM.  I was hungry.

My knee had been bothering me since we left the states last October but got really bad after one of our very steep volcano hikes in Costa Rica. It kept swelling up and giving out on me.  I decided it was time.

THE DIAGNOSIS

I went with Dr. Barria who was highly recommended by Roger, our current Workaway host.  Roger has had a successful surgery to rebuild his knee and he regards Dr. Barria with high praises.

When I consulted with Dr. Baria, I knew right away that I’d made the right choice.  He did a physical examination of my knee and gave me his initial assessment.  Then he asked for an MRI and confirmed those assessments.  He suggested that surgery should be done immediately in order to prevent further damage to my meniscus, the cartilage that acts as knee shock absorbers.  He also recommended possibly doing PRP injections depending on the severity of the meniscus damage.

There is fold in the plica on the kneecap that is supposed to have gone away after teenage years, kind of like wisdom teeth.  Apparently, I still have this fold and it was causing irritations on my knee.  I also still have all of my wisdom teeth.  My body needs to learn how to let go.  This plica will need to be released and the kneecap put back in place.

GOING UNDER

Finally, at 6:30 PM, I was wheeled into the surgery room.  I had waited eight hours. I lay there alone on the cold table in a large concrete room. The double door was open and the doctors and scrubs were walking back and forth outside.  The walls of the room were a patchwork of colors where it had been repaired in various places.  A large light loomed over me reminding me of some alien abduction film.  I felt vulnerable in this flimsy gown and knew that soon they would put me under and I was totally at their mercy.

A nurse walked in with a syringe.  She told me “duerme” meaning sleep. I would be out soon and then I would wake up with a fixed knee, or so I thought.  They began the surgical preparations, tying my arms down to a crossbar that came out to the sides. I watched them do all these, and then my eyelids became heavy.  The sedative had begun to kick in and I welcomed it. I fell asleep to the hum of surgical machines.

WAKING TOO EARLY

When I awoke I felt very relaxed and could feel nothing from my waist down.  I don’t know how long I was out, but I looked around and saw the same patched walls, heard the same sounds of machines humming.  There was a sheet hanging in front of me and I saw the profiles of people standing beyond it.  I was still in surgery.  I woke up too early.

Evidently waking up during surgery runs in my family. My father woke up during his open heart surgery years ago.  They put him back under immediately.

“Can I watch?” I croaked.  If Dr. Barria was surprised to see me awake, he did not show it.  He told the nurse to partially take down the sheet so I could see the screen.

I could see the two metal probes protruding from my knee on the screen to my right.  Dr. Baria pointed out the cartilage and my knee cap and explained what he was doing as he was doing it.  He chiseled on my kneecap.  I could hear the metal tapping and feel a tug on my leg but there was no pain.  It was cool to see the inside of my knee.

Soon the nurse pulled the sheet back up.  I tried to pull it back down with my hand that was tied out to my side but the nurse just added more tape to keep the sheet up.  They were closing up and did not want me to watch the final clean up.  It was a bit humiliating during the clean up as I was exposed to a room full of doctors.  This part I would have rather slept through.

NUMB AND FAMISHED

I was wheeled back into my room around 9:30 PM.  My rib cage and everything below it was still numb. I stared at the sheet over my feet telling my right foot to move.  Nothing.  I touched my waist and could barely feel it.  It was as if I was touching my skin through a heavy woolen coat. 

The nurse said I had to wait an hour more before I could start eating.  As soon as that hour was up, Trin made me a turkey sandwich and I ate it up.  The hospital dinner was brought in and I ate some of it as well but gave the rest to Trin.  And then sleep overcame me again.

In the morning Dr. Barria stopped in and tried to get me to lift my leg.  It would not lift.  I kept trying to send brain signals to it, but nothing.  The doctor said it was probably due to the anesthetics still, but I was to do the exercises that the physical therapist showed me the day before.

LAUGHING IN PAIN

When I got back to Boquete I started laughing on the way to my room.  This is another odd family trait.  When we have extreme pain we start to laugh, for some reason.  I could barely do the exercises on the first day and I used my other foot to help lift my leg.  But with each passing day, I’m amazed at how much better it is getting.

I’ve been having physical therapy sessions twice a week, and it has been excellent.  They seem to have all the modern equipment that I had found during my research.  The staff has been wonderful.  I’m excited to soon have a reliable knee back.  It shouldn’t be too long now.  There are just too many mountains I want to climb and trails I want to hike.

It was early evening and we had just started heading out on the long driveway out of the property when across the headlights of the Ford Escort ran a tiny white furry blur.  Roger stomped on the brakes and the car skidded to a stop on the crunchy gravel road.

He backed up to where the thing disappeared on the side of the road and we saw a white and tan cat standing there looking at us.  The previous night we had heard it trying to get to the new addition to the stable: twenty tiny, little baby chicks.  They are such adorable, bundles of furry yellow and black cuteness chirping and shuffling around in their enclosure.

THE BIG BANG TABBY

I knew exactly what Roger was going to do as soon as he had started backing up the car, so I was not surprised at all when he pulled out his Walther PPK from his backpocket and fired two warning shots towards the cat.  The cat took off and we have not seen it since.

The incident had just a tinge of absurdity and I somehow found it comical.  Trin and I laughed about it later.  But that’s Roger as we’ve come to know him.  He is serious about protecting his property and everything in it.  A few nights ago he did a spot-on impersonation of Clint Eastwood, with all the grit and the icy squint, “You can mess with me but don’t mess with my horse.”  That goes for baby chicks as well.

He was taking us out for dinner to celebrate the tenth year wedding anniversary of Trin and me.  Before heading out he opened a bottle of champagne to begin the celebration.  We relaxed in the ornate living room to finish the bottle.  We then headed to the Panamonte.  It is a beautiful restaurant in Boquete, Panama with a wonderful ambiance.

A RELAXING EVENING

Roger ordered a very nice, earthy bottle of Chilean Merlot and the three of us relaxed on couches by the crackling warm fireplace waiting for the food to arrive.  A nice cool breeze wafted through the open windows mixing with the warmth of the fire creating the perfect mixture of radiating dry heat with the occasional wisps of cooler air.  The smell of the wood smoke made me reminisce about the many campfires out in the woods that we have enjoyed.  We gazed at the flames and smiled in contentment.

I’ve had rough times, and I’ve had prosperous times.  I’ve been hated and loved.  There have been years of nightmares and years of blessing.  I sat back in this beautiful place looking back over the last ten years with Trinity.  The best decade of my life so far.  What a blessing to be here on this journey with the love of my life.