Bloody Wednesday: The Battle of a Toe and a Hand Weight.

Last week was…well…bloody. Let’s recap.

As I mentioned in a post a few weeks ago, I’m currently tangoing with the odd situation of trying to live in the moment while I’m in Peru, yet looking for work in the US. So, after the church-filled weekend in Huánuco, I got back to the hunt on Wednesday and spent my entire morning in a final interview with Teach for America.

Oh--you didn't want to see it? Too bad. 

The morning was full of all of the natural nerves and worries that come with any job interview, plus the added concern of our less than stellar internet connection; however, by 2 p.m. I was done with the interview and had strapped on my tennis shoes to go run out the morning’s tension. After a half hour run, I felt refreshed, came home, stripped off my shoes, stretched and started to lift weights. After a particularly hard set, I put my hand weights on the dresser—and this is when my beloved six pound hand weight betrayed me—and rolled off the dresser and landed with a horrifying “thunk” on my left foot.  

Can I tell you something? I didn’t know a toe so small could bleed so much. I crumpled to the floor instantly after the weight hit me, looked at my foot and saw my toe had split open. In a matter of seconds my hands were completely covered in blood and it was uncontrollably spilling over my sopping hands and onto the floor. I called out to Graciela  and shyly said, “Uhh…can you help me with something?” She came upstairs, looked at me and asked, “What did you DO?!” Now—let me tell you something else—this woman is fearless of blood. All I wanted was for her to bring me a wet towel, but she grabbed the towel and helped me clean every drop off blood of my cut, hands, legs and the floor. This woman is a saint. She even put a band aid on for me, which made me feel six years old, but better all the same.

I wish you could sit on the roof of every church and site see.

From there, it was the frustrating process of figuring out where my insurance said I should go for medical help, then deciding to go somewhere completely different. Eventually, we showed up at a local clinic where they very embarrassingly insisted that I roll around in a wheelchair, like my foot was a mangled bloody stump or something.  After some x-rays, everything checked out okay and the doctor put three stitches in my toe and kindly told me that he doesn’t want me to walk until we take them out—a WEEK later.

Needless to say, I’ve respected the doctor’s wishes as much as possible—but I have walked. I have three stitches in my toe—I’m not going to ask someone to carry me to the toilet for that. However, the cabin fever of knowing I CANT leave the house set in almost instantly.

Now—running is a constantly challenging sport that I don’t always love, but I have to tell you—I cannot WAIT to get these stitches out so I can run again. Yes—sometimes when I run I get chased by dogs, whistled at by creepy men and one time I even saw a man’s entire penis as he took a leak about two feet away from me—but as a World Service Corps rep, running is sometimes the only YOU time you get the entire day.

Clearly a wheelchair is not necessary for this. 

By the time the weekend arrived, it was  breath of fresh air because it meant I got to LEAVE the house. Saturday, I was in charge of the young adult class, but unfortunately there was birthday party at the same time as my class and, well, the birthday party won.  

Sunday in Filidelfia, we guinea pigged the more “traditional” way of presiding. Presiding in Peru has always meant the presider is the center of the service. They walk the audience step-by-step through the service. The presider usually gives the invocation, welcome, introduces every song and event (offertory, communion, etc.) and gives a pre and post-sermon talk. In all honestly, I prefer preaching to presiding because being this MC-type person can be a TON of work.

Katrina's class on Saturday in Monte Sion.

So, Marlene presided on Sunday with a more behind-the-scenes approach. For the first time since I’ve come to Peru, everything was actually planned out ahead of time. I even had a full 24 hours notice that I’d be giving a testimony, which is simply unheard of here. I would also like to point out that this more American-style of presiding was NOT Katrina nor I’s idea—it was a local leader’s idea. The service glided along smoothly and it was a good experience; although I must admit, I’m going to miss a little bit of the charm in the way that Peru is so different and transparent about who puts together their service. But, times are a changing, and I’m glad the leadership team here is willing to try different things.

As for this week, we’ll be in Monte Sion every day to FINALLY paint the church (I’ll post before and after pics!) And my stitches, if they look okay, come out TOMORROW! Wish me luck—if they don’t take these puppies out, I might have to go and eat three plates picarones to numb my disappointment. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Until next time!