A Summary of Today (ending with a trip to the Moroccan hospital, unfortunately)

This week, Otmane (my program supervisor) said that we would be going to the beach on Saturday and I thought, “oh fun!” Then we went to the beach and somebody said we were going to play soccer and I thought, “oh fun!” And suddenly I kicked the ball incorrectly and felt my stress fracture from the previous year CRACK. Not so fun. I can’t tell you exactly what happened to cause this injury, but I remember going to kick the ball away from Mira and accidentally kicking her directly in the shin with my big toe. Don’t worry, Mira’s fine. She’s a tough gal. I, on the other hand? An accident-prone infant.

My foot exploded into a blur of pain and I felt extremely nauseous. I tried not to cry at first, and said I was going to sit down under the umbrella. I sat there, waiting for the extreme pain to subside, and it only did a little bit. I looked at the ocean and remembered how cold it was when I first jumped in, so I limped over (this movement made me cry) with Eva and Mira and stood there for a bit, hoping the cold would help. It did not. So I went back to the chairs and my ANGEL of a language partner, Myriem, bought an ice cream from one of the vendors that walked by and kept it on my foot. The cold felt good, but even the gentle touch did not. I sat there for a while after telling Otmane what happened, and then we got up to leave and I realized that I still couldn’t walk without crying. Many eyes were on the ginger American with one shoe, crying as she tried to hop onto her roommate’s back. Luckily, my roommate Chloe (from Texas) is strong as an OX and carried me all the way to a cafe where we ate and the pain did not subside (but wasn’t excruciating when just sitting), then all the way to the taxi, then out of the taxi to the train station, and then when we arrived at the Rabat train station, she carried me all the way up this massive staircase at an impressive speed, and got me into a taxi. Then, I went to the hospital with Otmane. He was extremely helpful, acting as my stand-in parent and speaking to the doctors in Darija. He explained that the hospital I was at was the best one in Morocco, and that the public hospitals are much dirtier and way less organized. The hospital I went to was impeccable.

I got an x-ray on my foot, and then waited for the results. Otmane told me about how he used to kill flies and pick off their wings when he was little because he hated them, and my host mom called Otmane’s phone and my phone multiple times to make sure I was okay because she was worried! She is so sweet and caring… exactly like my biological mother in America. Anyways, I got an x-ray on my foot and learned that it was neither fractured nor broken.

Like I mentioned earlier, I heard a crack, I felt immense pain that wasn’t subsiding, and I had a previous injury in that exact spot on my foot. I swore that I had broken it. I had never been so sure of anything in my life. I’ve had a lot of injuries, but this was different. This was brutal.

Nevertheless, Moroccan doctors are generally very good and that hospital was good (plus x-rays are really not that hard to read), so I believed the doctor, got a prescription, had my foot wrapped, and was brought to the taxi.

From there, Otmane brought me home, picked up and delivered my meds, and my host mom put a chair in the shower so I could put my foot up outside to keep the bandage dry. Then, Eva offered to deliver homeopathic remedies for healing bones, and Chloe hung up my laundry on the roof to dry.

It was a long day, but if I learned anything, it’s that even after just a week in Morocco, there are so many genuinely kind people here that care about me and will have my back even if I can’t walk or speak Darija or shower normally. S/o to my language partner buds who prayed for me, and my American buds who said I can cry if I need to, and offered their support. I am so grateful.