Swimming Pools and Emergency Rooms

It has been getting ungodly hot. I'm slathering on the sunscreen to preserve my fair & lovely complexion that TV ads tell me I need to say Yes! to life. Luckily I trace my descent from sunless climes whose inhabitants mutated to a shocking white much like eyeless newts living a mile underground in Kentucky caves.

I didn't want to spend my weekend sitting around the house in a scandelous state of undress, sweating. So we went swimming! Thursday some friends came over for delivery argileh and we decided to get out to a swimming pool Friday. The plan was to meet at my place 9:30, be on the road by 10, and be swimming by 10:30.

We got out by 11:30, which I think is our new record in timeliness. At noon, we arrived at the pool by rented micro (all the pools are outside of Damascus - this one in al-ghouta) and got into a tiff with the owner, who didn't want to let us bring in our Coke and 35 sandwiches. We threatened to go to another pool, and protested we didn't know sandwiches were mumnu3 because last summer they were fine. She relented on the sandwiches, but not the Coke, telling us she'd hold it behind the desk until we left, and we could buy Coke from the pool's restaurant.

I slathered up, offering some to the group. Sale7 accepted, as he had forgotten his oil. "Wait, do you want to tan?"
"Of course!"
"This will not help you tan. It's sunscreen."
"Oh, whatever. Better than nothing. Hand it over."

I jumped in and began to swim some laps. After only about 10 lengths Sale7 and Tariq stopped me. "Oh my god you really know how to swim!" They said everyone at the pool had been staring at me do laps. "She must be a professional," Tariq overhead, "see how she flips?"

I tried to teach Tariq and Sale7 how to do front crawl, before we all gave up a bit and played waterpolo in the shallow end with Ra'id and children and jumped around. The other ladies with us, meanwhile, bought beer and chilled from the side.
"Don't you want to come in?"
"I wanna finish my beer."

It was then, during a holding-your-breath underwater contest, that Tariq began screaming and I and a lifeguard had to grab him and haul him out of the pool (good luck he had been at the edge). His shoulder. An old army injury, he has popped his shoulder out of place now 16 times. Mostly playing football and swimming, roughhousing with the guys, and once, when he woke up in the middle of the night and sneezed. In the beginning it would pop itself back in, but for the last 5 or so a doctor has had to do the job. "Aren't you the same guy from last summer?" the lifeguard asked. "That time it popped itself back in."Various friendly neighbors came over, tugging his arm this way and that to his anguished screams. The pool called for a micro to take us to a doctor. While we waited, Tariq laid out on the pool deck and very passing person offered medical advice.

"Please go slowly," Tariq begged the micro driver, who replied that he couldn't help the condition of the roads. We went off, Sale7 and I with Tariq, leaving the others to their beer and pool. Since it was Friday and we were in a small town, no doctors offices were open and we had to go to a private hospital. It was about a 20 minute drive and every bump or shake of the van sent Tariq yelling with pain. At the hospital they had drugs and Tariq calmed down. Money was discussed before we proceeded. They wanted 3500 lira, which no one had on them, so we negotiated to 2500 ($50) by foregoing one diagnostic exam and promised to leave an ID, paying later.

The last time I went with Tariq to the doctor there was anguished screaming as one doctor held him down and the other violently twisted his arm around. This time Sale7 and I weren't allowed in, and we waited outside the door of the operating room. No screaming, and then he was done. "This feels amazing," he said, definitely a fan of the painkillers.

Then we had to pay, but realized none of had our IDs with us. They wouldn't accept my leaving a credit card as a guarantee. I had 1700 with me, but luckily realized I also had a $20, which the doctor accepted as 1000 lira despite now being somewhat less.

In our rush to the hospital, I had only put on shorts and a t-shirt, and after leaving the hospital I stood outside trying to wave down a cab. Guys in passing cars were very appreciative of my shorts.

Back at pool, I swam some more laps before hanging around with Manar and Sale7 and a fat little girl who latched herself onto me (physically) and wanted to know my name, my age, where I was from, what I was doing here, how did I learn to swim, etc. Tariq sat watching at the side in his wrap.

We went home to Jerimana around 7, exhausted and full of chlorine. Sale7 lamented, "I didn't tan at all today!"

My swimming has earned me a new nickname "Samakeh" (fish), to go alone with Anuteh and Um ash-Shamat (mother of freckles). I've also christened Tariq with "Gharban," (broken, as in a TV that doesn't work) which his mother found very funny when we dropped him off, arm in sling, at home.