An Afternoon At The Hospital

It seemed prudent to check out the sprain, ad there was a lot of lividity today at the bottom of my foot, and my lower leg was swelling. So with the assistance of the lady who runs the guesthouse and her younger sister and another woman who drove us and some children, we went to the hospital. I could tell it was a hospital because there were serious looking people wearing white lab coats, and tall hats.

Up three flights of stairs and down the hall, then stand in the hall and wait. Surely a hospital. Then back down three flights of stairs, and back up one to another hall and wait. Yup, its a hospital. But clearly not an American hospital because there were no six month old magazines to peruse.

There was a mob at a door, which somehow triaged itself. After waiting awhile, we went back downstairs to another line. Eventually, I was admitted to an X-ray room. Two machines, a lady in a lab coat ( no hat), and after several minutes she took two X-rays. Back upstairs to wait. Then the word came it was broken and I had to go back and talk to the X-ray lady.

Sure enough, the fibula was broken right above the tarsus. We talked about that for awhile and then after paying 2400 soms (roughly $40) and being told not to walk on it, it was walk back upstairs to wait. 

The doctor was a nice man, who looked at the X-ray, examined the foot, sent me into the other room for casting, and came in when they started casting to supervise. He told me not to walk on it, and that he wants to see it tomorrow, and posed for a picture. I paid 600 soms (roughly $10) for the exam and cast. Total was $50, and two hours. And lots of walking.

I'm looking for a stick, but not seeing anything around. And that outhouse is still 25 meters away.

Logistical issues abound, and I will address them after I figure out how to (a) kill the fly that has taken up a high speed orbit around my bed, and (b) get back from the outhouse.

As my sister Merri said recently, "cloud, meet silver lining.". Wait, that's the wrong cliche.