I finally decided I needed to take Ella to the doctor tonight.  (ALERT: If you do not like reading the gory details about illness, or if talk of bodily fluids makes you squeamish, STOP READING NOW!)

Ella had been complaining of tummy aches for the past 3 or 4 days, and has had some diarrhea.  I am the type of person that lets a sickness ride for a few days to see what will happen.  I generally don’t go to a doctor unless I see something alarming.  Well, tonight I happened to be in the bathroom with Ella after we got home from our day trip to Granada (which is SO beautiful, by the way), and I decided to check to see if what was coming out was still diarrhea.  That was when I saw something alarming!  Blood in the toilet never inspires confidence, especially not when it’s coming from your seven year old’s rear end.  I told her we’d have to bring her to the doctor to check it out (which immediately made her burst into tears), and went to look up what’s available in town.

Doesn’t it always happen that when you finally decide you need a doctor, it’s right before the weekend, when everything is closed and your only options are emergency services?!  It was 7:45pm on Friday night, and I hadn’t the faintest idea where to find the health centers in town, much less the nearest hospital (which I have since learned is in Motril, a 20 minute drive to the next town).  Hoping that maybe the Spanish siesta hours might work in my favor, or that I’d find something with Saturday hours, I started searching the internet.  I found that one of the clinics in town has hours till 8pm!  By the time I called, it was 7:55pm, so I was not really even expecting an answer.  Imagine my surprise when I got a real person on the line!  I started to tell them why I was calling, in Spanish, and I was doing great… until…  “My seven year old daughter has blood in her….”  umm… what’s the Spanish word for “stool”?  Part of my brain was looking for synonyms for “poop” that might translate easily, when I finally gave in… “Do you speak English?”  Thankfully, not only did he speak some English, but he asked me where I was right then, and said that if I could get to the clinic in 5-10 minutes he would wait for me. “Si!  Ya voy!” and we hopped in the car.

Let me go back for a minute and explain the drama that was happening in the background while I was searching for a doctor.  Ella was horrified by the idea of seeing a doctor.  She was wailing loudly, and saying things like “Why ME? Why do I have to get sick and go to the doctor when everybody else gets to go to the beach?” (We had no plans to go anywhere but bed tonight.)  And then she got even more upset.  “The doctor is going to hurt me!  He is going to have to stitch up the part that is bleeding!”  While I comforted her, I held back my laughter (are you with me on the implications of that one?!?).  But she had a previous experience with a split chin, and didn’t care much for having the wound glued shut, so you can imagine what was going through the poor child’s head about this particular blood.  Ryan took over comforting her and helping her understand things better while I was on the phone, and by the time we left she had simmered down to the whimper rather than a wail.  On the way there, she was starting to cry again… “What?  I might have to show my  private parts to a MAN?” but I assured her everything would be okay.

The ride into town took less than 7 minutes, and we parked on the street right in front of the clinic.  Thank you God for that parking space! After I accidentally spilled the entire contents of my “important papers” bag all over the street and then picked them up again, we made our way to the door.  It looked like a city apartment, with a buzzer outside, which we pressed to have them unlock the door.  Inside, it was dark, and there were stairs and elevators, and you had to find the light switches yourself as you made your way in.  We knew we had to go up, so we took the stairs because we weren’t sure how many flights up, and were very relieved to see a big sign on the door saying CLINICA on the first level.  Phew!  That was easier than it looked at first!  The doctor himself ushered us in, and the secretary showed us the waiting area for a brief moment.  Then we went back to his office and I explained what was going on half in Spanish, half in English.  He mostly spoke back to me in English, I think so Ella would understand – he spoke directly to her a lot.  He was so kind, and he put Ella right at ease, and even got a smile out of her!

We were thinking he’d check for hemorrhoids or parasites or something, but he did a basic exam which involved palpating her stomach and taking her temperature, and assured us that a little blood in the stool is normal after a bout with gastroenteritis, and that he sees it all the time.  He gave us some dietary recommendations to make sure we aren’t irritating her bowels and ensure she’s properly hydrated, and said if we still see blood on Monday to come back.  Sixty euros later, I have a bill to submit to insurance, (which is not bad compared to an American out-of-pocket doctor visit) and we were on our way to Mercadona to buy some bananas and apples for her to bake and eat for breakfast.

Overall, I was pleased with the experience, and was especially surprised that they were willing to stay open to wait for us.  In retrospect, I might have freaked out a little too much about the blood in her stool in the first place… though I know my mom would say I should have taken her to the doctor days ago!   I guess the weekend will be telling.  We’ll be praying we have no need to go back.