The garlic treatment took place on the advice of my cleaning lady. Her name is Oksana, she's 75 and she's Russian. A very likeable, hard-working woman, extremely well groomed, she looks no more than 55. As soon as she arrives and starts cleaning, she gets out her earphones and starts listening to something on her phone. Once I asked her what was so interesting that she was listening to.
"Niechka, I am listening to online lyectures of two great proffessors – Doctor Mermerski and Doctor Ko."
I'd heard that Mermerski treats people with herbs; about Ko I knew nothing.
"Niechka, Doctor Ko is spetsialist in interpersonal relationships, and in particular – in syexual. Vimen of our age must listen to syexual lectures of Doctor Ko, so that some young vixen does not steal our husbands…. Why do you and Emo (author's note: Emo is my husband) not go to, for example, a swimming pool – so you are not under my feet while I clean?"
I swallowed the term "our age", which I found inaccurate – after all, I'm 35 years younger than her.
Anyway, Emo and I took her advice and went to a swimming pool. As far as I was concerned, we had a good time. The next day I found out that we hadn't had quite such a good time, as, probably from the dirty pool water, I'd picked up a fungal infection "down there".
The following Sunday, cleaning day in our home, Oksana politely steps through our front door wanting, besides cleaning, to have a natter about her favourite topic in the whole world – the topic of woman, her femininity and the devastating effect of the years on both.
"Niechka, age does not forgive, you know how I envy someone when she tells me she is 70! For me, only at 74 did the flyesh on my arms start to saaag (translator's note – flesh)."
To illustrate her misfortune, Oksana wobbles her triceps to show me the "saaagging". I cut her off a bit rudely, but just at that moment I wasn't in the mood for the problems of "our age".
"Did you know that because of your advice that Emo and I go to the pool, I've now got a fungal infection and have to take antibiotics?"
Oksana drops the hoover with a crash and gives me a reproachful look, and she rarely allows herself to reproach anyone:
"VAU!" Oksana exclaims. We've known each other long enough for me to know that in Russian "Vau" means "Wow"! "Niechka! STOOP!… STOOP! You cannot allow yourself to have fungus there where Doctor Ko says is 'spring of sacred female powyer'! Professor Myermyerski," Oksana continues, "has ryecipe exactly for ones like you, in his book 'Herbal Prayer Book'. Treatment with garlic. What you must do is: you take clove of garlyic. You soak garlyic twenty-four hour in olive oil and in evening, before you sleep, you put garlyic into what Doctor Ko calls" – here Oksana's voice soars solemnly – "'spring of your sacred female powyer'. In morning, when you do your morning toilette, you take clove of garlyic out from there, and you will not have fungus any more."
No sooner said than done. I went through the whole procedure and fell asleep. In the morning, during my morning toilette, I discovered that Mermerski hadn't polished the details of the "garlic treatment" procedure one bit. How did I find this out? Well, after searching the "spring of my sacred female power" far and wide several times over with trembling fingers, in my spring, I found no garlic whatsoever.
What do I do now? I was sitting on the toilet and my legs were shaking. The only thing that came to mind was to go to the nearest hospital.
The hospital was packed with people waiting. The procedure was as follows – the newly arrived patient goes to reception, explains what's wrong with them, then sits down and waits for instructions, called out loudly from reception, about which consulting room to proceed to.
On my way to reception I was wondering how to present my problem in a more digestible way. I've always worried about what "people" think of me. I wanted to look like a normal and worthy taxpayer of this country, which, at the end of the day, I really was.
"Hello!" I tried to sound like a person without any deviations.
The woman at reception was writing something in a notebook and my greeting had no effect on her activity. I hovered for a bit, hemming and hawing.
"Spit it out, what is it, have you got a mouthful of marbles?" she suddenly piped up, without looking up at me, still writing. I began my story:
"I went to a swimming pool a few days ago, and you know how dirty pools are."
I wanted to give her the background to my "illness", so she'd know I wasn't some kind of flake, just a person who cares about her health. The writing speed opposite me didn't slow down; clearly the cleanliness of public swimming pools wasn't among her priorities.
"And since I swam in the dirty pool and caught a fungal thing down there, you know what I mean……"
She kept on scribbling. Apparently she didn't know what I meant.
"……And since I don't like antibiotics, I decided to try to cure my fungal infection in an alternative way…." I paused before the punchline. "By using a vegetable!"
I'd thought long and hard about how to word the "treatment" and in the end settled on the more general and neutral "vegetable". I decided it was more appropriate than "garlic", since, after all, "garlic" is associated with an unpleasant smell.
"And unfortunately, the vegetable got stuck in me during the treatment," I concluded. I was trying to sound breezy.
A reaction finally came, and to my good fortune, it was a lot more humane than I'd expected.
"Don't worry, it's nothing serious. Wait until we call you in to Doctor Marinov's room."
I was so stunned by this unexpected display of humanity and professionalism that, bathed in a warm wave of gratitude, I relaxed enough to share my worries. Just like that – the way women do.
"This must be the first time you've come across a case like mine."
"Oh no, we've helped ladies in your situation before. If you're able to sit, take a seat on the bench and wait until we call you."
I was able to sit (what kind of comment was that, anyway) and plonked myself down on the bench with relief. Thank God, I'm not some kind of precedent on a national scale – there had been other ladies like me!
The waiting room was full of people. Those very same people became the unwitting witnesses of the most shameful moment of my conscious life when, after about 20 minutes or so, I was called over the microphone as follows:
"The woman with the lodged foreign body, please report to room 8, gynaecology."
Since then, for fungal infections, I avoid the garlic treatment.
