Paradise – lost it –

Or very nearly. Returning to the villa after a placid morning painting in a tropical garden, I stumbled on a stair and fell on my face. The groove for the sliding front door broke my free fall, leaving a gash in my forehead as a souvenir. I blame inappropriate footwear and two bags of painting gear, but it could be inattention and clumsiness.  That ended my painting day, but several discoveries enriched the day despite the unfortunate stumble.

First, my appreciation of the women who are here increased ten-fold. Each of them responded with genuine concern and kindness to my accident, mopping my bloody face and hands, bring a cold compress, sitting me down and asking if I was okay. Tessa and Anna called a minor injuries clinic called ABSAR, or Antigua Barbuda Search and Rescue,  got directions, and drove me down, even though Anna’s succulent lunch was already on the table.

The clinic is a tiny, one-room facility opposite the marina on Falmouth Harbour. We were met by two impossibly young soon-to-be physicians from England, a woman and a very good-looking man,  and a tanned, already -licensed doctor wearing white shorts, tee shirt, and no shoes. A dark-skinned woman lounged behind a semi-circular desk to answer the phone. I could see a hospital bed at the back of the room, half-concealed by a curtain.

The small blond woman asked me to lie down on the bed, then  tried to stitch up the wound. I think I might have been her first victim. However, tanned, experienced, bare-foot doctor efficiently finished the task, all the while cracking really corny and inappropriate jokes. For example, I said the accident wasn’t too bad for an x-year old, and he said, “And you don’t look a day over ninety-seven!”  Hahahahahah, laughed nobody, especially not me. He went on to try to cover by more age-related jokes which only got worse. Poor man couldn’t seem to stop.

However, even so, there was plenty of good-will all around and when I was all patched up,  Tessa and Anna each took an arm.  We asked about payment.

Donation, only. No insurance card, no id, nothing. The clinic is run by a charity.

Back at the villa, I did as I was told and lounged on a huge sofa in front of a huge glass wall, gazing at the blue sea, while the others had another painting session. If you have to take it easy, this is the place to do it.

Snow and winds, I am told, back in Raleigh.