Government Hospital

I thought I was having a bad day. Yesterday I was still recovering from my cold, had a pretty frustrating day at work (whoever said that the internal workings of the UN are like seeing sausage made - best avoided, was very true), and only upon arriving in Jerimana, realizing I had left my key in the office on the other side of Damascus. Then I got some chili powder in my eye while making Endomi (like ramen) soup.

By 7:00 I was ready to go to Capoeira, the Brazilian dance/fighting thing that Tariq, Saleh, and I been doing for a week. Tariq's little brother planned to hit up Tariq's work, right next to the class, and all go together. Quarter to seven I call to let him know we're around the corner, but some one else picks up and lets me know "Tariq is very busy, he's doing a lot of work right now."

We go to the office and get greeted by Tariq's boss and a coworker, who are very happy to meet his little brother. "Tariq will be back in 10 minutes" Abu Ous tells us, so we sit and chitchat. 15 minutes later I'm asking, "Where the hell is he?"
"At the hospital or doctor's"
"What?"
"He seperated his shoulder." For the 17th time, I might add.
"When?"
"Oh, about 10 minutes before you guys came in. They rushed off to the doctor."

I like how we were just sitting there for 15 minutes and no one told us what was up, nor had Tariq's coworker who picked up the phone. Even though we said we were on our way to the office, and then waiting for him, apparently no one wanted to make us worry.

Tariq's little brother and I go to the doctor's, where every one has decided to go to the hospital because this doctor is an asshole, anyway. We go to Mushtahid - government hospital.

The emergency room has no orderly checkin, but a collection of green-sheeted gurneys with dividers that can be closed. The gurney Tariq sat on had a few small blood stains and there was bloody gauze on the floor. Groups of people were huddled around each gurney, which mostly contained children with casts. I was afraid this would be a nightmare of trying to get a doctor's attention, but one came over within a minute, assessed the problem, handed him over to a technician for xrays, and within 5 minutes xrays were done.

Returning to the emergency room, the doctor and technician shooed us away, and closed the curtain. Tariq's screams reverberated across the emergency room as they readjusted his shoulder. Then the doctor came out, told us "It's a boy," and revealed a paled Tariq. Tariq's coworker ran off to get some wrap for the arm, and within 5 minutes the second set of xrays to make sure the shoulder was in place were done. Doctor wrapped up his arm, and we were out: no bill, no nothing. The whole thing had taken about a half an hour. We only paid for the arm wrap.

Much better experience than the private hospital we had to go to when Tariq's shoulder seperated last time: cleaner, faster and free. The only pro for private as far as Tariq was concerned was that the private hospital had given him drugs and he hadn't felt a thing during the readjustment.

As we left Tariq's little brother was amazed to find out that we don't have free hospitals in the States. "So if some one's poor they'll just let him die?"
"Well, usually they'll do the surgery and then he or his family will have massive debts."