Hours went by and the doctor returned, but this time with another doctor and a translator—a kid named Mohamed Ali.  Mohamed began to relay the assessments from the doctors.  Doctor #1 said we needed to drive on to the next city as soon as we began feeling better.  Doctor #2 said we needed to stay a few days in Murgab and drink plenty of hot water.  Doctor #2 also added that he had a guest house where we could stay and he could care for us.  This sounded like a nice option, but a little fishy.  I told Ali that we would wait for our friend to return, then decide then.

Will and I continued to rest.  The nurse brought out a cloth with a large piece of bread in it.  She poured some tea and had Will and I sit and eat with her.  It was very sweet of her to share her lunch and although we were unable to speak with each other, it was a very pleasant moment.

After the tea and water I had to pee desperately.  I asked and she said she would have to check with the doctor first.  I begged and she finally got the ok.

“Where is the toilet?”  I asked.  She pointed outside.  I walked to the front steps where I found Ali.  I asked him, and he directed me to the right structure.  Yes, structure.  It was an outhouse about 100 yards away.  As I was walking to it I noticed rusty surgical blades in the gravel.  When I arrived I could barely breathe from the horrific sight and smells of this, the hospital bathroom.  I hurried back wishing I had just walked around the corner to relieve myself instead.