A shitty "shitless" saturday in Spain

It all began at 11:45am on Saturday. My roommate, Raquelita, hadn't been able to go number '2' for a long period of time. She tried everything; laxatives, a bag of prunes,and an enema. Nothing worked. So we gave her an ultimatum. "If by Saturday morning you haven't gone, we're going to the hospital." Saturday morning rolled around- no poop- off we went.
The hospital is about a 15 minute walk from our apartment. It's located in Triana, the next neighborhood over from mine. We're pretty lucky here in Spain because health care is free, and since we're studying here at students we too get free health care.
We waited in the ER for about an hour and a half before seeing the doctor. He said they would perform another enema and was CONVINCED it would work, and we would be on our way within about 2 hours. Long story short, 11 hours and 2 enemas later, it didn't work and Raquelita was staying the night in the hospital. Details you need to know. Never once did we get to eat anything. Needless to say we were STARVING. The nurses, if you could call them that, were NOT friendly, NOT helpful, and NOT nurse-like at all. You would think that after giving someone an enema you would come back and check up on them to see how things were "flowing" but nope- not in Spain. They jam tubes up your butt and leave you there. They told us to press the "red button" if we needed anything. Don't you worry, we pressed it. We needed stuff. We needed to see a doctor. We needed some attention. Needless to say, we didn't make many friends in the hospital.
The best part of the day: At around 8:00pm, after being in a white hospital room with a non functioning TV my blood sugar got low. Well I thought to myself, perfect, we're in a hospital, couldn't be in a better place, there must be juice everywhere! So I march myself down the nurses station and in Spanish I explain that I am diabetic, my blood sugar is low, and is it possible for me to have some juice. Well the nurse looks at me completely dumbfounded and says "I don't speak English." Well you can imagine the look on my face now. I say "ok, but I'm speaking Spanish right now. Do you understand me? I am diabetic. I have diabetes. UNDERSTAND?" Man oh man. I was just flabbergasted and was trying not to laugh, so as not to make my sugars go lower but it was just so damn funny. Finally I started playing a game of sherraids with the man, and showed him my pump and he finally got it. OH MY GOSH I thought I'm in a hospital right now and the word DIABETES doesn't mean anything to you!!!! ay Dios mio!! (of my gosh!) Well rest assured- I am alive and well, and I got some juice. Peach juice actually...interesting...I don't think I've ever had peach juice before. Only in Spanish hospitals I suppose.
Well to sum it all up, we were in the hospital for 11 hours on Saturday. Not my idea of a relaxing Saturday in Sevilla- but hey thats the way the cookie crumbles right? (man I could go for a warm gooey chocolate chip cookie right now. mmmmm)
Raquelita spent a second night in the hospital on Sunday, but they have finally come to the conclusion that nothing is wrong with her and she will be arriving home shortly. Moral of the story: eat a regular diet, and even though you're poops may be small, they are still poops.

And the adventure continues...