Colombian Hospital

Not sure if it was the water in Cartagena, the heavy food in Bogotá, or a combination of the two, but I got very sick on Tuesday of last week, after returning from the coast. I had very strong pains in my stomach and food poisoning. I left work early on Wednesday and as time progressed, I became very dehydrated which led to a terrible headache. Since it was my second to last week here in Bogota, I did not want to miss work and attempted to go into the office Thursday morning. Apparently, I wasn't looking too hot because Claudia, the head of HR, told her assistant, Lorena, to take me to the hospital clinic. You may wonder why I am telling you this. Well, it would be remiss if I left out one of the greatest adventures of my trip, which was my experience at a Colombian hospital.

Lorena and I left the office around 9 am for one of the few hospitals in northern Bogota. I was hesitant and felt as though it was a bit dramatic to go to a hospital. However, I am known to have a high pain tolerance and once had pneumonia when I thought it was just a cold. I figured I should avoid a similar situation. Once we checked in at the hospital, I waited about thirty minutes before realizing that a nurse had been calling my name over ten times. Here in Colombia, residents have two last names (father's last name, followed by mother's maiden name). When they took my information from my passport, they thought my middle name was actually my common last name and, therefore, were calling for "McNair Brooks", which sounded more like "MEE-GNAR BOOK-REYS". I laughed with the nurse and she took me back to take my temperature, ask me questions about my symptoms, and perform a small exam of my stomach by pressing on various organs. Not sure if I understood or answered any of her inquiries correctly. I later got called back to have my blood drawn and other tests run by the cutest little nurse. She also gave me a bag with two small containers in it and I think she told me to wait in the front with them. About 10 minutes later, I was called into a third room where I was given Pedialite-ish liquid by two young medical technicians. I thought the female technician told me to finish it so I began chugging the bottle before she grabbed it and told me I was to drink 500 ml twice a day. Before this experience, I was beginning to feel nearly fluent in Spanish. However, that was up until I was presented with medical terms and the metric system. I literally made out about 1 in every ten sentences, and had close to no idea what anyone was saying at the hospital. The male technician then told me to lay down, which I did. He started laughing and told me to lay on my stomach. Before I knew it, I got two shots in my rear end and was told to wait in the lobby again and that it would take 90 minutes for the results of the blood tests to come back.

Lorena, who was not allowed to enter the various testing rooms with me due to their small size, had been waiting in the lobby with close to 70 sick people. By this time, we had been at the hospital for a little over an hour. Not bad at all. However, since it would take 90 minutes to receive the results, we decided to go to the cafeteria to avoid the germ-ville lobby. We returned on time and eagerly awaited the results; not only was I feeling sick, but more importantly, I needed to escape the germs, the woman that was crying, the man slumped over with bloodshot eyes, the kid with the very displaced broken finger, and the guy with blood on his side, soaking his shirt. I kept thinking that if this was the United States, the hospital would not have as many sick people in one area (there over 8 million people in Bogota and this hospital was the only one in the northern part of the city), but would also not move as quickly as this Colombian hospital. I was pretty sure I would be in and out in under three hours which is incredible compared to the emergency rooms at home.

Lorena and I waited as the 90 minute mark passed, then 2 hours passed, and we still had not heard my name called with the results. I am a bit impatient. Actually, by "bit", I mean "very". I asked Lorena if she could enter the hospital doors and politely ask what was holding us up. I didn't want to miss my name being called again. When she came back through the double doors, she was laughing. She told me that the first nurse, the one that gave the the bag with two small containers, had actually been waiting for me to give her a a sample of my #1 and #2. I will leave that part to your imagination. The doctor said that they had the blood results but thought that I would be bringing them the executed containers once I was able to do so. I began laughing hysterically along with Lorena. Not because I was embarrassed, but because had we not asked, we could have waited until 2054 due to this misunderstanding. The exams were optional and I politely declined. The doctor then told me that my blood results were perfect and notified me that the water in Cartagena often makes people sick and that the symptoms take a couple of days to present themselves. I told her that I only drank water from water bottles but she retorted that even brushing your teeth can expose you to this stomach virus. I thought I was being careful enough, practicing the same discipline as my many trips to Mexico, but I was naive and did not avoid water at all costs.

I was given a list of medications and we went to the cashier to pay. I had to pay out of pocket, as my travel insurance reimburses after the fact. I was surprised to see that without insurance the total cost of the the hospital visit, shots, blood work, and laboratory results came to under 200,000 pesos, or a little over $100. Again, without insurance. I believe that is how much I pay with insurance to visit an emergency room. Although the overall experience was more comical than traumatic, I was still a bit under the weather and was very happy to leave the hospital and its sick inhabitants. That said, I must say, I was impressed with the efficiency, affordability, cleanliness, and treatment options at the Colombia hospital.

I got a ride home and when I arrived, the receptionist at my hotel, Felipe, offered to call to have the prescriptions delivered and called to order me some food. In Bogota, everything can be delivered. Literally, everything, including a successful industry of manicurists that come and do your nails in the house. When the food arrived, my life was changed. I kid you not. There is a famous soup called "Ajiaco". It is god-sent. The main ingredients are potatoes, shredded chicken, and corn. Although it sounds simple, it single-handedly brought my back to life. It was so delicious that I also ate it for dinner on Thursday, as well as lunch on Friday, when a small group of my favorite coworkers went out to celebrate Patricia's birthday. If you ever have the chance to come to Colombia, keep in mind that hospitals are very clean, sterile, and affordable, and that Ajiaco is the best soup in the entire world.

Ajiaco