Galindo came home last night after receiving a gastrointestinal wash to try and get any remaining poisons out of his system. All evening there were people in the house, eating and sitting with him, talking to the family, and praying over him. I went to visit him, because it seemed it might be offensive if I didn’t, but he was asleep so I only spoke to the family members.

His cousins and aunts seemed positive that since he was home things would be okay. But I am worried about how much poison his body absorbed in the nearly 12 hours between getting him to the doctor in the nearest town, and getting him to the health center 2 hours away for the gastro-wash.

His grandmother, our host-mom, came early this morning to apologize for not coming to talk to us when they got back last night (not a problem) because so many people were at the house and eating. She seemed more realistic about the situation saying he was “muy grave” this morning, and she, her husband, and most of their daughters did not sleep last night for looking after him. He can hardly swallow for the pain, which means he’s not drinking or eating hardly anything. His grandfather, Nas, went to town to see if he could find some sort of intravenous feeding aparatus, which his daughter, Reina (the nurses’ asst.) could administer and check on regularly.

Nas told us this morning it is possible that Galindo did not drink Tamaron, but a different herbicide that is not as potent. No one has been able to get the straight story from him. Nas told us his Tamaron is buried in a place only he knows about, because he knows it’s dangerous and his grandkids are all over his house and property.

For our part, we’re helping them prepare food when we can, and have told them to let us know if there’s anything else we can do. There’s really no way to tell how long this ordeal will last.