In the 1994 (i believe), he was driving home in an SUV, pulling his boat. His daughter, 8 at the time, was sitting shotgun. In countries like Nicaragua, with less traffic infrastructure, many hazards are unmarked. In Guillermo's case, he was driving down a hill to a railroad crossing, and didn't see the train coming. He hit the brakes, and tried to get out of the tracks, but the boat prevented him from doing so, and the train hit the SUV full on on the driver's side, crushing it and dragging it like a kilometer. Somehow, not having sustained a fatal head injury, he'd been hit so hard that it had ruptured his liver, spleen, and numerous other internal organs. Not to mention the fact that his lungs had been punctured by broken ribs and were filling with all kinds of bodily fluids. Seeing that his daughter was also hurt, he somehow got of the car, and seeing that her legs were broken, pulled her out as well. Then, by some unknown strength that is probably only possible when a parent sees a child in peril, he carried her all the way through the emergency room doors before collapsing.
She was okay -- Two broken legs. But it was clear that he was about to die. The fluid in his lungs needed to be drained immediately, or he stood no chance. Unfortunately, anesthesia slows breathing, and barely getting enough air as is, it would have caused him to suffocate. So, the only option was to operate without any anesthesia whatsoever. So, they told him what they were about to do, and then cut him open, inserted a tube in his lung from the side, and drained out the fluids. Throughout that evening he clinically died three times. His heart stopped, but each time he was resuscitated. During those next few days, the doctor informed everyone that he would go at any time. Yet, somehow, to the bewilderment of the doctor, he was improving.
Today he has a pee tube coming from his belly, but has operational organs, and has made as much of a recovery as one could expect.
He's had another son since then, and has been able to lead a pretty normal life. So, on that cheery note, Guillermo showed up with food, which was VERY welcome after eating our normal beans, rice, guineos and squeaky cheese every meal for days.
That day we saw an infestation of gigantic scorpions. Sometime in the morning, Mando woke us up and told us to immediately remove our clothing from the floor. "Those Scorpions ", he said, "They love the pants!". Hence the name of this blog. We cornered one, killed it, and put it next to a pencil for size comparison.
In the afternoon, we went for a canoe trip up the river to do some exploring and adventuring. A few hundred yards up the river, we both spied a giant coconut-like basketball-sized fruit hanging from a tree branch. Not missing a beat, we were both immediately determined to get it, and it thus became known as the Fruit of Victory. Armed with only two heavy oars and some rope, we devised a number of strategies to get it down. Climbing the tree was impossible, and the fruit was easily 12 feet above our heads. Our first, most simple approach, was to have Chris get out onto the bank and simply try to Piñata the shit out of it. If he jumped and swung he could make a little contact, but not much force. Plus, it could probably get whacked and swing all day without breaking off.
So, we decided the only real strategy was to get a rope over the branch and wrap it around the FOV, then pull/cinch it off at the stem. Or at least pull the branch down enough to grab the FOV. So, i tied a lasso to an oar, and javelined it up the tree. Well, because of all the other branches you need both perfect velocity, arc, and angle. Nat's encouragement was enough to keep us going, and after about 10 minutes of tossing I got it through, and after about half an hour total, the Fruit of Victory was ours. Ours to take home and display orgulously.Chris and I share a common love of small, personal victories. Like when you get to fix your toilet without buying new parts, or outsmarting the raccoons in the garbage. And it's always really funny when we realize how excited we get about such small goals. It's almost like we've both got running tallies of us versus the world.
The second half of the canoe trip was a bit more difficult. I'm not sure if its the case everywhere, but down here there's a novel phenomenon that really impresses me. The rainstorms not only come out of nowhere, but have a well defined cusp. Like that kid in Peanuts. You can actually hear the rain coming first, and then see the tree branches moving in the distance. Then, the moving branches and sound get closer and closer, like that weird monster thing on that show Lost. Next thing you know, the rain is so loud you can't hear, and you're drenched.
That night Guillermo and fam, Mando, my mom, Nat, Chris, and I laughed, caught up, and made perhaps the best dinner I can remember... Mando's incredible guacamole, fresh grilled steak, and a delicious fruit salad with ripe tropical mangoes. It was nice to have another 3 people to join our quintet. With a full belly and a few beers, I was sawed big lazy logs all night long.
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