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RICARDO

I took a breath that was so deep it hurt my lungs and sent me into a coughing fit. I spat the blood that came up onto the carpet. As soon as he saw me about to take another breath, the next patient turned to leave again and the doctor grabbed a roll of toilet paper. He tore off a long strip, which he put on the floor where I had spat, and then handed me the roll. He could see that I wasn’t going to leave until he helped me.

We stared at one another for a moment longer. Then, without saying anything, he reached for his stethoscope and checked my breathing. I watched the reaction on his face.

‘Big infección. Need antibióticos,’ he concluded, writing out a script and motioning for me to follow him to the door. He pointed up the stairs and said, ‘Farmacia’, then closed the door behind me in relief.

The woman in the pharmacy smiled as I entered. When she saw me up close, she noticed how sick I was and made a big fuss over me, like I was her own son. It was the first real kindness anyone had shown me in two weeks and I smiled back, thinking I was finally saved. She took the script and rushed around to find the right medicine on the shelf. She put the box on the counter and, seeing that I couldn’t speak Spanish, wrote down the price on a receipt, which she showed to me. When she saw the worried look on my face, she snatched the box back off the counter. Then, when she realised how bad that had looked, she shook her head sadly and started apologising.

‘Lo siento, señor. Lo siento mucho.’

She did look sorry, too. I was dying and the Bolivians were all very sorry. She slid my prescription back across the counter, still with the same sad expression on her face. I tore it into shreds and threw the pieces back at her before leaving. I hoped she would think of me dying while she was picking them off the floor.

I gave up completely after that. I couldn’t speak the language, I had no food, no clothes, no medicine, nowhere to sleep, no money to call anyone, and I knew no one in La Paz anyway. My life was over. Once I had accepted that I was going to die, I didn’t even feel that bad. I just felt kind of numb. It was almost a relief to no longer have to fight. I just remember thinking that I didn’t want to die in the courtyard. I wanted to die on my own, not with everyone watching.