Rustaq Doctors, part 2

continued…

Despite the surgery well-done and access to a private room (on-demand), there were some parts of my 4 day sojourn at Rustaq Hospital that could have used some improvement. Here’s number one:

Anyone who lives in Oman knows that nearly all companies and institutions are majorly lacking in the customer service department. This includes 4 star restaurants, DHL mail service, high-end stores, car mechanics, and also hospitals.

At my right was the handy nurse-call button, however, the nurses didn’t seem to understand that the flashing light meant that I might actually need something. If they were around and not too busy they would stop by within an excusable 10 minutes.

One time, late at night, I pressed the button, extremely thirsty and in incredible pain, and almost immediately knocked it off the bed and onto the floor where I couldn’t reach it. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes passed. And I started to panic. I strained to pull the cord, but it only got more stuck. It wasn’t for another 15 minutes until somebody came. She walked in, very blasé. “Fi mushkila?” There a problem?

I would have lost it if I’d had more energy, but I was so desperate for what I had originally called them for almost an hour ago that I let it go to speed along her bringing me a bottle of water and some morphine. This was not a time to piss her off, in any language...