I suppose
that people are probably getting tired of hearing about my struggles with the
super-flu. I know I’m getting tired of writing about them. But here we go
anyway. Yesterday afternoon it was back off to the hospital again. It struck me
at that time that I had ended up in rather serious condition—intensely sore
throat, fever, heart pounding, short-of-breath—and that I should seek immediate
care, like emergency room sort of care. Why I imagined that there even is such
a thing in Bali, I do not know. Put it down to delusions arising from a state
of panic. But of course there is no emergency room, per se, in Bali, except for
that place reserved for the lucky few who have experienced a sudden beheading or
the traumatic loss of more than one limb. So instead of being rushed to the
attention of a squad of physicians and operative aids, ready with IV lines and
other life-saving measures, we (Louis and I, for Louis had been kind enough to
drive me to the hospital)) were ushered into a small room to meet with a small
female doctor who determined straightaway that my condition could not be viewed
as emergent or critical (compared, again, to the severed head or limb). I
would, however, be number one in line to see an ENT specialist at 4 pm—a happy
note on the one hand, and discouraging on the other, for the time now was only
1:30 pm.
So while
Louis and Wayne went to get some lunch, I settled into one of the hand=me=down
caskets used for seating at this hospital for my long journey to later afternoon.
As soon as 4 rolled around, number 1 was called and I met with the doctor. I
had heard the woman in the non-emergency department mention that this doctor
was terkenal, or well-known in Bali,
and though this may not rise to the level of a Dr. Kildare, or Welby, or even Frankenstein,
my hopes were high.
As it
happened, the famous doctor seemed to show little interest in my particular
story. My impression was that he had already heard the story and already knew
what to do. After a perfunctory examination, which consisted of peering with a
little flashlight into my throat and nose, the doctor dashed off several
prescriptions and told me to drink more water. One person’s illness is another’s
monotony.
I will say
that after a particularly rough night, I am beginning to feel a bit better, and
shall be hoping as always for good things to come.
2 comments:
I have come to learn that in health care your emergency is not anyone else's emergency. I learned in my darkest MS days when I had to call Dr. Office for something I started the conversation with "I know my emergency is not your emergency but could you please help me". Sad but true I got good results then. Not sure that will help in Bali.
Mb--The problem in Bali is not a lack f compassion but the absence of a system and resources and trained professionals to respond. People who are able financially to seek effective healthcare seek it elsewhere, such as in Singapore of Malaysia. Having worked 20 years in an American hospital, I am continually expecting the picture of I accustomed to rather than the one that actually exists.
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