life in this republic

a trip to the emergency room...

Rebekah has lain in bed for two weeks. Finally, this weekend, she is getting up and feeling better. We broke down on Tuesday and scored her some antibiotics. Bronchitis was the diagnosis. Poor kid.
Rebekah: SORTED

Friday afternoon, I was working in my office and Roxie had just arrived back to school from her PE lesson. This week's theme: baseball. She was cradling her arm in an awkward way and looked white. "I've just been to the nurse and she thinks my arm is broken." Cue viloins.

Sliding into home, she landed with full force on her left wrist. She said she lay there in shock and cried while trying to get her wind back. I saw my whole afternoon before my eyes like one of them new-fangled picture shows; sitting in the emergency room, waiting an eternity, gruff X-ray technician, large outlay of cash.

We piled in the car and headed for the emergency room. This place is hard enough to navigate without a language handicap. Nothing is labeled. Just a series of unmarked buildings comprised of hallways full of unmarked doors. What's in here? Rectal exams? Could be. It's anyone's guess! Hours of Fun for the Whole Family!

We stopped for an ice cream knowing it could very well be our last form of nutrition for a while. Cappuccino and vanilla soft-serve take-away at our local cafe. Safe inside our car, licking our cones happily, maybe-broken arm nestled ever so carefully, we continued into the city.

Arriving at the hospital, our first stop was the information booth. I wanted to know where to go to get X-rays. Mind you, I've been here before for X-rays, but it is entirely possible that they have changed things around purely so that on this day they could secretly film us walking around looking confused. That's how it works here.

 The information booth lady told us to go to the building with the red windows but don't go in, go in to the building next to it that doesn't have coloured windows. Huh? The buildings of the hospital are colour-coded by department and have coloured windows. I am not sure if this is the best idea ever or the worst.

We go into the red-windowed building and ask just to be sure. The red-windowed building nurse sighs and takes me next door to the non-coloured window building and deposits us in there. No furthur instructions.

Now we watch and wait. We have to locate sick and injured people and watch what they do. There is no receptionist, no markings on the doors, no list of instructions. It is survival of the fittest. He who can figure it out gets to see the doctor and potentially live.

We locate a room with plastic chairs, TV blaring and injured looking people haphazardly scattered about on plastic wheelchairs from the 1500's. Some people have blood dripping down their appendages. SCORE! We found the emergency waiting room!

Now it is my job as designated translator to figure out the procedure for getting in to see a doctor. All the doors are closed and have door handles that make them inaccessible from the outside. I watch and wait. Roxie is making mewling sounds from pain. I tell her to pipe down, cuz I gotta concentrate!

Many people, bleeders and chair-bound, have pieces of white paper in their hands. Where does one get a white piece of paper? It looks important and may become necessary if we want to see a doctor. Like a Golden Ticket. I position myself next to a lucky girl who looks injured but has the good fortune of holding a piece of paper. I try to lean in as closely as Czech culture will allow to see what is written there upon the magical tome. AHA! It is important! It is an official hospital confirmation of the ailment in question. I move about the hallways looking for a dispenser of this treasured paper. Nothing, I can't see anything that may help us. But I found a soda and snack machine. I make a mental note as that may come in handy later.

To be continued...