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.

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...

Doctors in Rustaq, continued

A while ago I blogged about my brief stay in Rustaq's General Hospital. This past week I had a longer and more intensive visit to get my ever-aggravated appendix taken out. I think I can offer a lot more insight now than before.

First off--let me say that as an insurance-deprived American citizen, I consider myself luckily and ironically well-cared for just having some sort of health care at all. Even without any insurance, the entire surgery and 3 night stay would have cost me 275 riyals ($715) --nothing in comparison to what even one night at an American hospital would have cost an average uninsured citizen like myself (at least pre-new health care bill which I have yet to actually benefit from).

Second--I was both quite impressed with the treatment I received, and rather disappointed. The traditional, incision-style appendectomy was clearly well done. No infection, the cut is relatively small, I didn't wake up during the surgery from poor anesthesia or some other third-world operation nightmare. The surgeons seemed competent, intelligent and though not terribly important, most had a good bed-side manner.

And with that I'm going to have to continue this another time, as I can't sit very long without the cut really starting to hurt.

All the best, happy new year, and more to come as soon as possible.

Post-Eid Stupor

The year is almost over (hijri and miladi!) and I don't know where the time has gone.
Since Eid, I have been in a time warp, or maybe I'm still coming off of the consumption of too much meat and other substances that can cause trouble in excess that dominated my Eid vacation.

In any case, things are settling down again. Although I'm afraid only to be again shaken up by Christmas and New Years. Fun can be exhausting, especially in Oman, especially in my small town, where I feel the need to party like a rock star every opportunity I get...

As for other news, the progress on my book is gruelingly slow, but I'm getting there. In the meantime, I'm spending far too long procrastinating reading everybody else's writing. Getting ideas, you know? I need some holiday blessings of motivation and focus.

Perhaps it is the disarming calm of my neighborhood as of late that has taken me off my guard. Remember the monster children? ...no where to be seen. Mixed blessings. Maybe I feed off the drama, at least creatively. Chronic social conflict inspires me in a weird sort of way. Although I did have something of a falling out (more like one-sided screaming match) with the Indian construction workers next door who seemed to think it was ok to come into my yard without asking to finish the wall they were building. That wouldn't be okay in any part of the world, right? Or am I unconsciously becoming like the women around me whose biggest concern if burglarized is if their hair is covered. Seriously...I was told that by a group of very modest ladies. Let's hope not.

Anyways....
Send good wishes for my writer's block/massive procrastination to disappear.

Thanks:)

General Hospital...Oman version

Well, I've had my first run-in with the general hospital here in town....(can you guess? Batinah smallish town starting with R....former capital, like most medium sized Omani towns...) I must admit it was better than my experience at the polyclinic, however, surprise rectal exams at 2 AM are never a fun time.

Lots of interesting things go on in developing world hospitals...more to come on that in my book, but for the time being, I need some advice from any of you discerning hospital-goers.

I may have to have my appendix out this weekend (yet another bacteria wrecking havoc on my digestive system) and am wondering if anyone has heard anything particularly positive or negative about the general hospitals here in Oman. Our health insurance won't cover any hospital, but I'd like to know what I'm getting into before the ether kicks in....

Student Art

After class today I noticed a picture on one of the girls's desks. A little bit of class doodling. It's a pretty good idea of what they aspire to look like...

Book

Dear Oman Blogosphere and other readers,

I'm going to be posting less often now, (but I'll still be around) unlike our dear friend Muscat Confidential. I've been working on a book about my adventures and misadventures in the Middle East, particularly Oman, and the project is in full swing now. A lot of what I say in my blog I want to put in the book, and I don't want to double write. I'll still post now and then and of course keep reading yours!