Darío

Darío has been a part of this blog practically since I started it over a year ago; he’s been an important part of our lives here for over two years.  The latest news we have of him is not good, but at least better than a week ago.

At that time, from what his daughter told us, there was a serious possibility that Darío might not make it.  Despite a visit to the doctor, his pain was nearly intolerable, he couldn’t sleep, and he had stopped eating.  We and our next-door neighbors had noticed a dramatic weight loss. In less than a week, he had aged 10 years, going from a vigorous, upright older man to a wizened, stooped, fragile elderly man.  The change was truly shocking to all of us.

What was alarming was the doctor could not determine the cause of the pain.  X-rays did not show an involvement of the spine, such as I have–a pinching of the nerve by two discs.  The doctor also warned the family that his condition could not go on–if he continued to refuse to eat, he would deteriorate rapidly.  No one needed to be told what the end result would be.

Yesterday, Lucy came to work at our house and told us that Darío was better.  They took him to a different doctor, outside of the Hospital Regional.  There he was found to have extremely high blood pressure, very high levels of cholesterol, poor circulation due to partial blockage of small blood vessels, and an extremely inflamed sciatic nerve, the original diagnosis.  What does  that sound like to anyone?  A very high risk candidate for a stroke, for one thing.  A cluster of problems that are undoubtedly adding to the sciatica; at a minimum, they’re not helping.  Thanks to the poor circulation, his legs and feet are swollen, without doubt contributing to the pain.

Quite frankly, none of these are short-term problems.  My guess is that he’s had symptoms for a long time but has ignored them (the way I do) or hidden them, because he has to work to support the three grandchildren that live with him and his wife.

Personally, I was astounded that it took the third trip to the doctor to find the high blood pressure.  Every single place I’ve ever been to, whether doctor’s office or hospital, one of the first things they do if they don’t have to save your life instantly is to take your blood pressure.  That’s been true of every time I’ve had any sort of medical contact here in Panamá, including one trip to the Hospital Regional.  I can not fathom why this wasn’t uncovered before.

The high blood pressure, of course, follows, at a minimum, from poor circulation; there could be other factors as well.  But his blood pressure, according to Lucy, was extremely high (altissima) .

According to Lucy, he is frantic to work, and can’t rest because of it.  The cold fact of the matter is that he can probably never work again.  I understand it’s possible that he may not walk again, although that doesn’t seem to be certain, and I don’t know why that’s in the prognosis.  One thing for certain: neither the neighbors nor we can afford to have him back as a worker, even if he were able to do light gardening work.  Given Panamanian labor laws, if anything happens to him while working here, we’re responsible for his upkeep–salary–for whatever length of time the Labor Board decides.  There’s no justice for gringos here–it wouldn’t matter what his history is–none of us can afford to take the chance.

He was told that by our neighbor, and yesterday Lucy heard it from me that it was true for us as well.  She started to cry.

I then heard a great deal about what is going on in that family.  The father, as I’ve mentioned before, of the three grandchildren has taken off, a common occurrence.  The mother–Darío’s daughter–works in David.  I was under the impression that she couldn’t contribute to the children’s care.  Not true–she does, but only once in a while.  She could afford to give more, but she’s not interested; basically she’s dumped the kids on Darío and his wife.  Lucy helps out as best as she can, but I’m not even sure that her husband is still working, given the paralysis in construction in Boquete especially, which is where he did work.  She cleans for another family, a Panamanian one.  She gives what she can to her father.  Her brother, as both Mary and I are well aware of, is worthless, a lazy slacker who is far more interested in chasing women than in helping out.  Lucy is justifiably angry with her siblings.

As it turns out, after consulting our lawyer who is knowledgeable about Panamanian labor law, we owe Darío money about which we had no idea.  I had been told that for workers under 20 hours, you didn’t pay benefits.  Not true–we owe décimo (the thirteenth month) and vacation pay.  The décimo goes back to 2007 through this year, and the vacation pay from last year through this year.  It’s not the world’s biggest amount, although this time of year is heavy for us because we have to renew car insurance, get the annual revisado (car inspection) and license plates for the truck, and pay corporation taxes.  So it  isn’t trivial.  But we can do it, and it turns out to be a blessing in disguise for Darío, because along with termination pay (which is basically what we’re paying) from us, he’ll get an up-to-date equivalent from the neighbors as well.  It means Darío will have nearly 3 months’ worth of income from his two jobs next week when we finalize the termination.

However, that’s no guarantee that he will be able to use it for living expenses.  Lucy told me that his new medications cost them $130.  I can well believe it, and he’ll most likely need to be on blood pressure medication for the rest of his life.  They had to buy the medications outside of the national system.  Theoretically, they can get medications dirt cheap at the hospital farmacia.  True enough–if the farmacia has them.  The Hospital Regional has not had any of the medications prescribed for Darío during this health crisis; he’s had to buy them at regular farmacias and medications here of any type are extremely expensive for the average Panamanian.  So yes, he’ll get a bundle of money next week, but the problem is–how long will it last and what happens after the money runs out?

I asked if there were government aid for the children, but Lucy said no–has something to do with the father’s absence but I didn’t understand why because Lucy used an idiom with which I’m not familiar.  Thus, Darío is frantic and Lucy has reason to cry.  I suggested asking at the church which we both attend (Lucy is far more of a regular than we are).  She hadn’t thought of that, and will inquire.  I can only hope that something will come of it because we can do nothing more and neither can our neighbors.  Around here, the tendency is if you start helping on a regular basis and contributing to the family’s income, you can get sued for responsibility.  And since everyone knows that all gringos are rich because they print money in their houses (this is a Panamanian fantasy, that we’re all rich), we don’t dare help out on any sort of a regular basis.

Labor law in Panamá is a tortuous thing.  I always consult our lawyer who used to practice a great deal in labor law, and she has been extremely helpful.  It’s a wonderfully generous law–so long as Panamanians work for responsible companies.  However, the same conditions that apply to companies also apply to private employment, such as gardeners.  The overwhelming majority of Panamanians ignore labor laws for their private help, and usually, Panamanians do not complain to the Labor Board.  Forget that when a gringo is involved.  They’re at the Labor Board at the drop of a hat, and almost always (but not always), the Labor Board will rule against the gringo.  The fines can be severe.

Which is why we consult our lawyer.

Mary had an interesting conversation the other day with a Panamanian man who has worked and lived in the US for many years.  Among other things, he said that Panamanians will step in front of gringos in lines because gringos won’t complain.  Oh?  This gringa will!  And so will my neighbor!  Neither one of us would be a bit shy in doing so.  So far, for me, the situation hasn’t arisen.  And I have had extremely courteous Panamanians allow me in front of them at our local mercadito when I’ve just had a few items and they’ve had a basketful–not once, but a number of times.  But I haven’t the slightest doubt that the attitude exists, because there are plenty of documented cases of gringos being ruled against in court and in the various ministries where the law was clearly on their side or Panamanians have lied.  It happens.  So one has to be careful.

It’s a pity, because now that I know what we’re legally obliged to pay (and I don’t resent it, actually), we will be far less generous in salary with anyone else we hire and probably not hire for as many hours as we did Darío.  However, I have a feeling that that decision–how much per hour and how many days per week–is in the future, because now we have to find a replacement, and that won’t be easy.  Darío is almost one of a kind, and I’m not sure we’ll find his like again.