Day 42

Day 42: Acebo to Ponferrada - 17 km

Rowena was sitting outside the first bar I came to when I walked into the city of Ponferrada.

Early this morning she had stopped and allowed me to pass her on the gorgeous trail, winding its way through a beautiful valley, rich with birds and bugs, lizards and giant chestnut trees. But we had only smiled at one another as I passed.

This time, however, she called out to me. "Do you speak Spanish?" she asked in English.

My brain struggled to comprehend what she was saying, and how to respond. In English? Or in Spanish? So I said, "Yes, sí. Y tu? Do you?"

"No," she said, "But I've injured myself and need to go to hospital." (Rowena is from Scotland, so she says things like 'go to hospital'.)

Which is when I realized she wanted me to help her get there. Because she didn't know how to ask. And by the look of her leg, which was cherry red and swollen nearly twice its normal size, she definitely needed to go.

So I said to the old man sitting nearby, "Esta un hospital circa de aqui? Le duele la pierna."

Sometimes the words are the same in English and Spanish, you just have to pronounce the vowels correctly to be understood. So hospital, for example, sounds like hose-pee-tal.

The man consulted two other men. They started to give us directions but I interrupted to ask if it was close by. They consulted each other again and thought it was maybe one, no maybe two kilometers. Yes probably two kilometers, or maybe a little more. I looked from the man to Rowena's leg and back, which is when he offered to call a taxi.

While waiting for the taxi, Rowena and I took the time to introduce ourselves, talk about what was going on with her leg, and how long we had both been walking. She's been walking the Camino off and on for 15 years, coming for holiday to do different stretches of it. This time she started in Leon, had gotten a sunburn 4 days ago, and it progressively got worse to where she now couldn't bear to walk any further.

I told her I would go to the hospital with her and she responded, "You don't want to go in a taxi, do you?"

A week ago I might have agreed with her, that riding in a taxi was "cheating" on the Camino, but I'm getting less and less devoted to the 'I must walk' mindset with each passing day. Besides, we were only a kilometer (tops) away from the albergue. And since Randy left it has been ever present in my mind that if I had to go to the hospital I would likely have to go alone. Which would be miserable. And I didn't want anyone else to have to go through that.

So when the taxi arrived we both got in.

The hospital was most definitely more than 2 kilometers away. But once there they took good care of us, getting Rowena in right away to see the doctor, who could understand some English but not speak it, but whose nurse did speak a little English. Between the four of us we managed quite well!

(It's amazing how much you can say by pointing. Rowena pointing at her leg and then toward the sun. The nurse pointing at my medical bracelet when she wanted to know if Rowena was allergic to anything. The doctor pointing at his pants to tell her to keep her legs covered from now on.)

After Rowena was told only to walk if it didn't hurt, and making a quick stop at the pharmacy next door, we took another cab back to the albergue, where we checked in for the night. And Rowena introduced me to everyone as her "guardian angel".  

Obviously to me it didn't feel like I did anything extraordinary. (I hope anyone would do the same!)

But I can see how it would seem to Rowena that God placed me specifically--someone who spoke Spanish, English, and was willing to ride in a taxi--on her path in her moment of need.

So, I can say, I'm grateful too that God chose to use me!