Rustaq Doctors, part 3

continued…

The second down-fall of post-op treatment at Rustaq Hospital was either a lack of pain-killers, or maybe too many. I spent my first day and a half post-op either in excruciating pain totally med-free, or high as a kite on a massive hit of morphine. I’m not sure what to make of this…given that they definitively have simple IV-drip technology. Who knows?

This up and down between pain and euphoria was nothing compared to the massive struggle involved in the what should have been the simple process of getting my stitches out a few days later. The word “appointment” is nebulous here. Let’s start there. I was told I had an appointment at 8 this morning. Apparently, that meant I had an appointment to start waiting at 8 this morning…indefinitely. The surgical clinic was packed with men, women and children, presenting with everything from broken bones, to runny noses, to seemingly near death wheezes.

The impending wait was overwhelming, especially in my condition. Hours perhaps.

We sat…


And sat…


And…I started to yell at the nurse.

It worked and I got in early. I think I learned in kindergarten that cutting in line isn’t cool, but I forget sometimes here. Snip, snip: Stitches out in a jiffy, and on my way.

Except for battling the accountant on staff…

How money, receipts, and bills are dealt with here (with Rustaq Hospital providing a pretty good sample case) deserves its own post.