Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Hospital Lesson In China

So you all have probably been wondering where I live in Asia. I am currently living in China. 1.3 billion people is a lot of people. I can't go anywhere in this country without feeling like my personal space is violated. Take for example my hospital experience this morning. I took my two daughters (5 and 3) to the local hospital after buying my fruits and vegetables at the "vegetable market" (this is another story for another post). Hospitals in China do not keep any medical records. You have to first buy a medical record book for yourself, pay for a number that tells you where you need to go, and then go to your specific area doctor. My husband and I are trying to have baby #3, so I decided to pay $1.50 and have it checked out even though I'm several days early. I'm pushing my younger daughter in an umbrella stroller with all my fruits and vegetables hanging on it while my five year old is walking beside me. A nice security guard comes and offers me some assistance after noticing that I was a little lost. He then proceeds to tell me that I must first pay for my number. I walk up to a nurse with a face mask on reading a book about the eight wisdoms of the world. I tell her in my broken Chinese that I want to find out if I am pregnant. She takes my 40 cents and hands me a piece of paper and sends me off to the second floor. I asked if there was an elevator around and surprisingly she said there was one around the corner. I arrived at the doctor's office with my paid number and they both ignore me for several minutes while they continue to eat their lunch and chew with their mouths open smacking their lips the entire time. The older woman doctor manages to ask me what I need and she quickly scribbles something on a sheet of paper and tells me that I have to go back downstairs to pay. I said, "I already paid!" Apparently, I only paid for the number and now I have to go and pay for the service. So, I turn around with my two daughters and all my fruits and vegetables and proceeded to wait for the elevator to go back downstairs. After ten minutes, I realized that they must have shut the elevator down for their "rest" time (they take a two hour lunch and nap time). I then turned around and asked my younger daughter to hop off the stroller so that I can carry it down the stairs. Finally, I pay for my service fee and promptly return to the doctor's office only to have her tell me to go back downstairs to pee in a flimsy plastic cup. She told me I could leave the girls in her office while I went downstairs. I readily agreed. I find a restroom with a squatty potty and tried to pee in a tiny plastic cup. It was a mess. After the deed was done, I attempted to wash my hands in the sink outside of the bathroom. Water never came. So, I'm dirty and holding onto my pee in a flimsy cup. Help? I ask someone walking by and he points to the basement. I walk carefully down the stairs to a ghost room. Rest time had obviously begun. My cup is getting flimsier by the minute, so I walk up to a window with a male doctor sitting behind a computer. He glances up for a second and points to the next window. I walk up to an empty window and slowly emerges a nurse. She takes my pee, dips a stick in it, and stands around waiting for something. She doesn't utter a single word to me. I try to find another sink to wash my hands. I found one inside some room and asked if I could wash my hands, and the Chinese man adamantly refuses to let me use it. I come back to the nurse and she hands me a sheet of paper. I tried to read the results myself, but I couldn't. I rush back up two flights of stairs into the doctor's office and saw a sink with antibacterial soap. I made a beeline for it and washed my hands without really asking the doctors for permission. She looks at me and says, "you're not pregnant." I left disappointed but so glad that the experience was finally over and thought, "why didn't I just do that at home with my personal pregnancy kit?" Oh, yeah. I live in China. They don't sell it in their drugstores. Note to self: next time I'm in America, remember to stock up on pregnancy kits.

No comments: