Spanish views from a small town

Last night was our first encounter with the hospital Emergency Room during the pandemic. Last week, my husband jumped the wrong way down from his company's truck, and his bad knee became swollen and tender. On Friday evening, since it wasn't better, we went to the local clinic after hours. He was given an anti-inflammatory medication and told to return if it didn't get better. Last night, it seemed worse, with his lower leg swollen and red, so we returned to the clinic. The same doctor was there, doing the night emergency visits, and she gave him a paper and told him to go to the E.R. at Santiago's Clinical Hospital to get it checked out. Our clinic may be new, but it has neither radiology nor blood lab. So, we drove up, paper from the doctor at the ready in case we were stopped when we reached the township of Teo, en route to Santiago and also quarantined. But there were no obvious green-blue lights, nor bright yellow reflective vests. In fact, I've never seen such...

The Observation Hall of the Emergency Room is a very public place where matters of utmost privacy are discussed. If a writer needs ideas, it's an excellent place to go to find them. Ailments are discussed, family matters are mentioned, and private habits go public. The curtains around each bed give only anonymity, and you can imagine the faces of whomever is talking or complaining. Sometimes there'll be a fleeting glance when the patient is wheeled out and he can be seen through a small opening in the curtain.  A woman with an elderly voice explains her symptoms while the doctor palpates her abdomen. Her fear of appendicitis disappears, but the specter of surgery remains when the doctor tells her her gall bladder needs to be removed as soon as possible.  A young man complains that he doesn't want to take a shower with the I.V. tube inserted into his forearm. The nurse insists it can't be taken off until the doctor says so, but he must take a shower. In the end, he g...