doctors and clinics and fungus, oh my

I hate going to the doctor here, which is why I put off going in the first place. I thought WebMD could tell me everything I wanted to know – like I don’t actually have a fungus…it’s just something that will go away.

But alas, I have a fungus. I also have a cold or flu and I’m guessing that when I start zapping the fungus with my new cream, I’ll be able to kick the cold too.

Doctors here seem eager to hand out antibiotics like they’re candy. They also like to throw in the odd chest x-ray and blood test. If anything, I get to keep a souvenir of my inner workings. I’m going to put it on display in the living room for all to see.

When you go to reception, people avoid looking in your direction. Maybe it’s because they don’t want to be forced into attempting to speak English. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a guy eager to practice his language skills. He’ll help you out. Then you’re off to the waiting room with uncomfortable chairs (sans magazines) where women stare in your direction, are obviously speaking about you beu amaranya and you’d like to give them the finger but then, how would that reflect on your representation of all the nech in town. Good thing your name is also an Ethiopian name. People can pronounce it and you can hear when it’s called – time to see the doctor. Your skeptical because you know doctors tell people if they have chest problems, they’re allergic to cold. Cold weather, cold drinks, cold food. And that’s just crazy because people endure cold weather all the time. You tell your story and he asks to listen to your lungs. He asks to undo your bra which you don’t think is necessary because it can easily be moved out of the way. But he’s a doctor, a scientist, not a thinking/feeling being. He moves to the front and his hand brushes your breast; he listens just to the side of your chest but it’s all a bit creepy. He goes to the extreme in asking if there are kids at the school with TB. TB? He orders a blood test and chest x-ray. The blood test is quick. You worry about complete sterilization. You have to wait for the x-ray to be done because it’s now lunch time. Time to break out the book you’ve brought. An hour passes but everyone who has been waiting rushes to the x-ray room and hands in their slips before you. You don’t want to push and shove so yours is last to be handed in. For some reason, they hand your slip back. When you know it’s your turn, you again turn in your slip. She says “take a seat”. I insist I’ve been waiting already and it’s now my turn. I go inside where a second man that day sees my breasts. He says I must have the flu because I look stiff. It could also be because I’m uncomfortable. The x-ray will be processed later that day but you have yet to see the doctor return from lunch. When will he get back? you ask. 3 o’clock. Two and a half hours for lunch. You can’t wait till he dillydallies back so you decide to come back the next day. The next day is rather smooth and all your results are ready. You still don’t think the doctor knows what he’s talking about so you don’t fulfill all the prescriptions. Only the one that will get rid of the fungus in 5 to 7 days.