The Adjusted Normal, 16. A Trip to the Clinic
Last evening, I started to feel familiar twinges and decided to go to the clinic to forestall the coming urinary tract infection. I don't have them too often, but they are a big bother when they do appear.
It was close to ten thirty when I drove down, the band of clouds to the west and southwest purple and peach against the greenish-blue sky. Where the sun had set, the sky was still a light pink. There were still plenty of people about, some had probably only recently left the beach.
I arrived at the primary care clinic and parked. I hadn't been to the clinic since before Covid. There were four people at the door, all wearing masks. I asked what had happened, and my cousin's wife, who was there with their youngest daughter, said that now we all had to wait outside. The procedure was to ring the bell, someone would come take our information and health card to register us, and then we wait outside.
Inside I could see at least four chairs blocked off, to avoid people sitting very close together. A man came to the door, I explained my problem, he took my card and I waited outside, the door closing behind him. I chatted with my cousin's wife. Apparently, their daughter had been eating sunflower seeds, when a sliver of a hull had lodged itself in the roof of her mouth and she couldn't get it out. Sunflower seeds are eaten by just about absolutely everyone. Some de-husk them between their teeth and pull in the seed with their tongue. Others, pop them in their mouths, de-husk them somehow that way, spit out the husks and eat the seeds. I belong to the first group, though I don't really like to eat them because you get little for your effort. Besides, just about all of the different labels add salt.
So, we waited outside. The building is a sort of one-story modern cement block, with cement overhangs over both the active clinic entrance, and the emergency, off-hours entrance. It has more problems with roof leaks and damp than the old building had, and has had to have patches applied. Some winters, there have been buckets along the hallway. And, after people were passing out from the heat the first summer or two, shades were placed on the enormous south-facing courtyard windows where the afternoon doctors have their offices, and air conditioning units installed. The emergency entrance would be slightly more protected if it were raining, but the falling night brought with it a sly little wind that made me glad I had grabbed my sweater at the last minute. I could only imagine that if it had been raining, or the night had been cold, that they would have let us in to wait.
They called me in after my cousin's wife and her daughter were dismissed, hull-free. I took my little cup to the bathroom and then left the sample at the desk, from where it was taken back to one of the nurse's stations. But, first, I had to use the alcoholic gel to sanitize my hands, which for some reason was tightly taped to a table in the waiting area. Was it disappearing on a regular basis? I was then quickly called in to one of the doctor's offices and told that, effectively, I did have an infection.
(Some years ago, I wouldn't have had to visit the clinic to confirm what I already knew. I would simply go to the pharmacy, tell them what I had, and they would give me an antibiotic. But, since the clampdown on the frivolous use of antibiotics, and their consequent loss of effectiveness, I must go to the clinic to get a prescription. But, of all the illnesses one might get, a UTI is one of the easiest to recognize and self-diagnose.)
The doctor was very friendly and talkative, and understanding. I've never seen her before there, so I assume the emergency after-hours doctors are always on rotation. I wish she were assigned permanently to the clinic. Doctors like that are a pleasure to talk to and remove any anxiety a patient might have. With the paper detailing my prescribed medication in hand, I even seemed to feel a little better when I left.
I went to the farmacia de guardia, the pharmacy in town which turn it was to stay open twenty-four hours yesterday. There are five in the township, three in town, and two in another two parishes. They all take turns every four or five days in spending twenty-four hours open. After hours, they don't open their doors, but use a turnstile of sorts to pass money, health card, and medications. They used to come to the door and open it, but times have changed, and too many thieves have robbed pharmacies at gun point in the dark and lonely night, if not nearby, in larger cities and towns.
After getting my medication, I drove back home, marvelling at the light green sky that still hung over the western hills. It was eleven thirty, but the night had not fully fallen. I love midsummer.
Life continues.
It was close to ten thirty when I drove down, the band of clouds to the west and southwest purple and peach against the greenish-blue sky. Where the sun had set, the sky was still a light pink. There were still plenty of people about, some had probably only recently left the beach.
I arrived at the primary care clinic and parked. I hadn't been to the clinic since before Covid. There were four people at the door, all wearing masks. I asked what had happened, and my cousin's wife, who was there with their youngest daughter, said that now we all had to wait outside. The procedure was to ring the bell, someone would come take our information and health card to register us, and then we wait outside.
Inside I could see at least four chairs blocked off, to avoid people sitting very close together. A man came to the door, I explained my problem, he took my card and I waited outside, the door closing behind him. I chatted with my cousin's wife. Apparently, their daughter had been eating sunflower seeds, when a sliver of a hull had lodged itself in the roof of her mouth and she couldn't get it out. Sunflower seeds are eaten by just about absolutely everyone. Some de-husk them between their teeth and pull in the seed with their tongue. Others, pop them in their mouths, de-husk them somehow that way, spit out the husks and eat the seeds. I belong to the first group, though I don't really like to eat them because you get little for your effort. Besides, just about all of the different labels add salt.
So, we waited outside. The building is a sort of one-story modern cement block, with cement overhangs over both the active clinic entrance, and the emergency, off-hours entrance. It has more problems with roof leaks and damp than the old building had, and has had to have patches applied. Some winters, there have been buckets along the hallway. And, after people were passing out from the heat the first summer or two, shades were placed on the enormous south-facing courtyard windows where the afternoon doctors have their offices, and air conditioning units installed. The emergency entrance would be slightly more protected if it were raining, but the falling night brought with it a sly little wind that made me glad I had grabbed my sweater at the last minute. I could only imagine that if it had been raining, or the night had been cold, that they would have let us in to wait.
They called me in after my cousin's wife and her daughter were dismissed, hull-free. I took my little cup to the bathroom and then left the sample at the desk, from where it was taken back to one of the nurse's stations. But, first, I had to use the alcoholic gel to sanitize my hands, which for some reason was tightly taped to a table in the waiting area. Was it disappearing on a regular basis? I was then quickly called in to one of the doctor's offices and told that, effectively, I did have an infection.
(Some years ago, I wouldn't have had to visit the clinic to confirm what I already knew. I would simply go to the pharmacy, tell them what I had, and they would give me an antibiotic. But, since the clampdown on the frivolous use of antibiotics, and their consequent loss of effectiveness, I must go to the clinic to get a prescription. But, of all the illnesses one might get, a UTI is one of the easiest to recognize and self-diagnose.)
The doctor was very friendly and talkative, and understanding. I've never seen her before there, so I assume the emergency after-hours doctors are always on rotation. I wish she were assigned permanently to the clinic. Doctors like that are a pleasure to talk to and remove any anxiety a patient might have. With the paper detailing my prescribed medication in hand, I even seemed to feel a little better when I left.
I went to the farmacia de guardia, the pharmacy in town which turn it was to stay open twenty-four hours yesterday. There are five in the township, three in town, and two in another two parishes. They all take turns every four or five days in spending twenty-four hours open. After hours, they don't open their doors, but use a turnstile of sorts to pass money, health card, and medications. They used to come to the door and open it, but times have changed, and too many thieves have robbed pharmacies at gun point in the dark and lonely night, if not nearby, in larger cities and towns.
After getting my medication, I drove back home, marvelling at the light green sky that still hung over the western hills. It was eleven thirty, but the night had not fully fallen. I love midsummer.
Life continues.
I have these infections regularly and my doctor gave me a prescription so I could always have the medicine with me when one starts.
ReplyDeleteYou're lucky. Our health system won't allow that.
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