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Healing powers from Mexico

While Kevin was toiling away last week, very near death from a spider bite, I was in Mexico.

I was in Mexico searching – more or less successfully– for a remedy for spider bites that hurt so bad they caused Kevin to make sounds like he was in the 10th hour of labor and only dilated to a two.

And I looked for a cure, I really did. A week just wasn’t enough time.

Kevin’s bite became apparent two days before I left for Cozumel, and just hours after the deadline to cancel the trip in case of emergency.

I swear.

So I made a silent promise to find a cure for Kevin.

I tried the bar, but tequila is unreliable.

I ate all day, every day. He still sounded near-death in his emails.

I laid on the beach for hours. Thinking. Searching for an answer.

Still nothing,

My boyfriend and I hopped in a cab and took a trip to the market. And despite more than 100 shop owners promising air conditioning and having “just what we’re looking for” if we would just step into their shop, I found nothing that would ease his pain and suffering. But I did find an incredible hand-crafted tribal mask.

I put a lot of effort into shopping for a cure. Three trips to the market, and not even the hand-woven purse I found for my mom had any discernible healing powers,

Endless hours of snorkeling - day and night actually - proved to be worthless for Kevin. The emails virtually stopped after I was there five days, and I feared the worst.

So I ate more, adding chocolate cake and milk on the beach at midnight to my feeding schedule. I lay on the beach more and meditated on his condition in a rotisserie-like fashion.

Tired of the cab trips to town, I began shopping at the resort gift shop and kiosks on the beach.

And I snorkeled like Kevin’s life depended on it.

It worked. Sort of.

I returned after eight days, and Kevin was still alive.

His pulse was faint, but he was breathing. Lamaze-like, but it could be classified as breathing.

The large hole around his belly button was healing nicely, and had changed in color from an angry fire red to a softer coral, much like a fish I saw in the Caribbean while searching for his cure.

I took this as a sign.

A sign that two weeks in Mexico would work even better next year.