A Trip to the Hospital

My head was pounding and my body aching among other problems and though I detest going to the hospital here I decided it was probably necessary. So, early that morning I set out for the 15 minute walk to the local hospital I changed my mind as I saw a motorcycle passing by and decided that would be a much better way to go so that I could avoid greeting every person along the way(not exactly what you feel like doing when you are sick). I felt as though my head was going to explode as the moto bounced along the rocky path to the hospital. I arrived and was greeted by the caretaker of the hospital Ashley, you are here (Francophone Cameroonians love to speak in the present obvious), yes I am here, you are sick, yes you are right I am sick. Nothing in the hospital was seeming to be in the right place…”we are doing some renovations” he explains. I look out into the open courtyard (if you can call it that) where about 15 hospital beds lay strewn about, looks like they must be making good progress on those renovations, I thought to myself. He then explains that the staff is not in yet and I can wait with all of the others who are there to see the one doctor that serves our village as well as several other smaller surrounding villages. After about half an hour another worker approaches our growing group of sick people in waiting. The man says “oh you are all waiting to” (once again the present obvious) “well the doctor is not in yet but we have now changed the check-in area follow me.” The group of mostly women and children and I follow him about 50 feet away to a different bench not long enough to hold all of those waiting to get checked-in. I sit on the bench in great discomfort from my body aching all over and then decide to stand thinking that would be more comfortable. The moment I stand someone takes my place on the bench which is also the line and order in which we are supposed to see the doctor. I argue with the individual and get my spot back on the bench and thus in line to see the doctor. An hour more of resting in the same place and no one has even entered the consulting room where the man who should be checking everyone in is instead arguing over a family issue with a friend who stopped by to see him at work. Outside the consulting room we sit in the open air and wait some more, I sit among a boy who has a gaping wound on his bloody foot which he has just sliced open with a machete while working in the fields and a young girl who is sweating profusely and looks like she is drifting in and out of consciousness, but there are also those who have less pressing needs one woman who I know well tells me she is there because she had a cramp in her hand. The hospital with our one doctor is the only place to go to get any sort of medical attention without driving to a bigger town and thus the whole spectrum of medical problems appear.
Sometime mid-morning the director of our hospital arrives to work, sees me sitting on the bench and says Ashley you are here, yes correct again I am here. I tell him that their system is very disordered and very slow (I would never say something like this to someone back in the states but here being straight forward and sometimes what we would consider as rude in the states is the manner of conversing here in french, just like the present obvious). Just a half hour after this comment was made I finally got through to the consultation room and then immediately in to see the doctor. The first time I had been to the hospital the doctor diagnosed me without doing any actual tests to confirm his hypothesis, when I asked him about this he said that was normal because most people don’t want to pay for the actual tests, I told him I would pay just to be certain that whatever he believes to be wrong is actually in fact what I have. So automatically this time he ordered the few tests our hospital is equipped to do, blood and stool, and after a few hours more of waiting I am sent home with medicine to rid me of the typhoid and amoebic dysentery I have somehow been lucky enough to contract at the same time.
This time I walk home and by the time I make it back to my house everyone I greet along the route knows I am sick and they have each promised a visit. One thing about being here you are never alone and though visitors while I lay in bed may not be exactly what I want, I do appreciate the way that people care for one another here.