the TB report, day 2

As much as I’d love to start right in with the antics today, I have to at least start by reminding everyone that not all Germans are like the ones I’m stereotyping (but most are) and that I’m not shy about admitting that yes, I am an asshole. True. Sure, I’ve been dropped into a whole institution of *sweet and *patient and *happy Germans and its *slightly different than an American hospital, but they’re not beating me, really torturing me (physically) or leaving me to die in a broom closet.

I think I maaaybe went a bit far yesterday by claiming I was in a treatment AND torture facility. A friend of a friend wrote me late last night, asking if he could “help” somehow, maybe meaning rescue or assist in a secret spy “Inside Edition” episode of how the little American uncovers the nightmare that is the German health care system. Well, I can’t do that. As much fun as that would be, and I love a good investigation (I can really nancy drew anything) they’re not all that bad and I’m more interested in proving that this socialist health care system works (I can hear some gasping and fists waving in the air now) here, just as it would back home.

But, I have no time for that right now. This is not the little angry Republican/turned Obama lover/turned Socialist edition. This is the TB report and I don’t have enough strength yet to defend myself politically–maybe when I’m out and my health care investigation is complete.

Today, instead, I’m teaching myself Deutsch by translating the German version of “Women’s World” back home. I figure these articles are mostly about the same things–keeping a husband, losing seventy-five pounds, drinking vinegar to lose your bloat, pot roast that’s to diiiiiiie for and the perfect pedi on a housewife’s budget…those phrases shouldn’t be too difficult. I figure if I can’t learn Deutsch while surrounded by nothing but it, then I’m probably a lost cause–which we won’t rule out just yet.

And so my first lessons include:
Word of the day:
Dusche: shower. This will be very easy to remember. No longer just cleaner of jages, but a real shower, which I took today, hurrah! (a shower, not the other) And no longer douche, as in, “God, he’s a fucking douchebag,” one of my personal favorites. No wonder Germans don’t get it. I’ve been running around calling people shower bags. My mistake. Fixed.

Phrase of the day: “Es ist nie zu spat!”
I guessed with this sentence I’d get four tiny words and probably a noun. And, the distinguished couple, locked in gaze of love in the picture next to the phrase meant I’d have something positive to say for the day. I was right, how fun.
“It is never too late!” Perfect! Something that will come in handy as I parade around the pneumonia ward, all occupants (minus me) being over 80 and on their last life, surely, they’ll love my enthusiasm.

Or not. Either way, that’s today’s project of the day.