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Im still alive despite Covid and spiders.
Hi all, I’ll try not to write a novel, but it’s a short one.
As you know I’ve been sick with Covid after my return from North Spain, got over it then four days later came down with a massive headache and a new fever of 103 for two days. I had to go back to the hospital at the insistence of Jorge, as I was getting delirious according to him. (I wasn’t but my crankiness was getting worse). Like any man, he thought of a reason to make me go so Ide shut the F-up. (or get admitted so he wouldn’t hear my complaining about the hospital and how they are killing people with a lack of compassion and no patient identification.) He was desperate to get me fixed or shut down. One way or the other.
So, he tried a scare tactic, knowing I’m a nurse he knows I won’t go to any emergency room (ER) unless I’m near dead. So, he made a show of calling the ER, and in Spanish told them what sounded like I was dying. Hangs up, turns to me, and says, “they said please bring you in now.” “He then looked at me with the saddest eyes he could muster, patted my feverish boney hands, and said “please honey…..go or I’ll kill you myself” with a perfectly straight face.
OK, fine I said. But if anyone comes in and doesn’t tell me their name, I’m leaving I barked through my feverish daze. “Sure, honey,” he said, “whatever you want”. I think he had a bag already packed for me. I don’t know because he was ready in record time. Being Argentinian he is never and I mean never ready before me to go anywhere. He must have had a plan. Which isn’t his personality. Hmm, maybe he’s learning punctuality from me? Mm, I doubt it, he’s fueled by something else here.
So, I went back to the hospital where I previously had the bad experience out of sheer exhaustion, as I didn’t want to ride to another city over an hour away on a Sunday. This is also the same place I sent a 3-page letter to the head of the hospital complaining about the issues. I wondered if they got the letter yet. I hoped not, or I might really not make it on this round.
Anyway, no problems at check-in this time. And because I had Covid two weeks ago I was separated in a different waiting room. Well, a hallway with white plastic chairs and bare walls. But I went in this time on high alert looking to make sure no screw-ups would happen like the first visit. But surprisingly I was treated a little better than on the last visit.
So, the doctor was different; a short thin woman with vanilla blond hair and glasses came in wearing a crisp lab coat with no name. She was a little older than the previous one I dealt with and I noticed two out of the five staff seemed to suddenly have name tags. Interesting.
The doctor examined me sitting in a chair and seemed to understand what Rheumatoid arthritis and Sjogren’s was so that that was a good thing as I’m immune-compromised as they say. Anyway, she had soft brown eyes and seemed to have some compassion which was better than I’ve had before.
Then I was directed to “pick a bed” in an “observation room” and make myself comfortable. As if laying on a hard plastic mattress in a bone-chilled room is comfortable. So, I chose bed # 2. Between a 40-something Spaniard with his arm wrapped and a young woman on the other side. “Buenas tardes” they said to me as I passed them. Alway a social greeting in public places here, even in hospitals. I admire that. Too bad staff don’t pick up on it.
No one really helped me on the bed or lifted the headrest so I did it myself and the other patients just looked at me as they didn’t have their headrests up. Maybe they wondered gee they could have done it themselves too. I would have helped them, but I just had Covid and I don’t want that in the headlines “American nurse with covid lifts patient headrests in hospital, makes them all sick”. Nope, not me.
Then in walked a nurse who actually had a name. She didn’t say much to me and then left. No call bell or anything was given to me, I wasn’t changed into a gown and was given no blanket. Sorry, I’m complaining already.
Next came a no-name x-ray guy who led me down the hallway that I’ve been to before. He knew a few words of English. He said to take my bra off only and pointed to a door. I stepped into a place the size of a closet, and it had another door to the inside and no lock. I thought I’ll just pull it off under my shirt in case someone comes through the other door I won’t scare them with my near 60-year-old mamos. I stepped back in braless under my bright orange runner t-shirt. Not a good vision I’m sure. He had me stand by a white box, x-rayed my chest then led me back to my observation bed.
Then someone in blue came to my bed and drew my blood and took my urine. Then I lay there for three hours watching people come in and out. I tried my best to figure out their Spanish but got nothing. Then finally the doctor came and said I had a nasty kidney infection. They gave me antibiotics in my arm and sent me home. At least I had a diagnosis. Although I didn’t get admitted as Jorge hoped. But he did get four hours in the waiting room without my bitching and got Oreos in the vending machine..
He picked up the meds that night for me as soon as he dropped me off. I didn’t need the meds till the am, but he insisted. I think he just needed time away, caring for a nurse is not easy business. He took a while and he said “I went to the late-night pharmacy five streets from here”…. Sure, you did, I thought, but it’s ok, He needed that coffee break.
He got the meds: (levofloxacin), paracetamol (Tylenol), and the prescribed probiotic and powdered cranberry extract. (Per the doctor to prevent bladder infections and diarrhea from the antibiotics.) Total cost 50 Euros. As meds are not covered here when you are on private healthcare.
I admire them here prescribing supplements with prescription drugs. Months ago, I was given powdered codeine with Vitamin C for my cough. I was more amazed at having powdered codeine. Maybe the powdered Vitamin C is in case your too sleepy to eat an orange after you take it and you won’t choke, just drink your meds, woman.
Anyway, I’m three days out and today I have no headache and no fever. So I’m better. Although I saw a huge red speckled long-legged ugly spider on the wall of my bedroom when I got home. Holy crap. I have some bites on my leg that won’t go away and still itch. Jorge thought now maybe I have monkeypox. “Don’t get your hopes up told him”. He promptly killed it although he did look at it for a while like maybe he was contemplating leaving it alive to get me. I’m kidding, really. I hope not.
Jee whiz, I’ve been sick 9 times since being here, got Covid now a kidney infection, and big ass scary arachnoids in my bedroom. Is Spain trying to kill me?
If not I’m sure Jorge will…… give him time….
Update: the hospital administration wrote me an email today. Basically, in a nutshell, they said “Spain is not the USA” I know that and said it in my letter. And “name tags are not usual here in Spain” and younger staff “don’t have compassion like the older staff and that’s too difficult to manage.” Have a nice day. No apology, nothing, and no mention of lack of patient identification when given medications. That’s right, skip over the most important safety concern.
Oh, and this time I didn’t get an auto survey after my ER visit. Interesting to say the least. Maybe they have me blacklisted now with an ugly face meme in my chart. Watch out for the complaining American nurse, she’s a pain in the arse..
Still alive…
Somewhere in Spain
About Me
This blog is about changing my life again. But this time, as a single, late-50s woman who has survived advanced cancer and a terrible divorce, I’m stepping into a completely new chapter. I’m moving out of the USA to do something I’ve never done before: teach English to young elementary children in Spain. As an experienced geriatric nurse who never had kids or even babysat much, this new path feels like uncharted territory.
With no Spanish under my belt, feeling too old to start learning, and questioning why I would leave the comfort of a good job and health insurance, I sit here wondering: Whose f***ing idea was this anyway? Mine, all mine. And here is my story, one painful step at a time.
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Published by Chif
I am a nurse, divorced, and love travel. I climb stairs with a bunch of friends and I’m the Captain of a stair team called Tower of Power. I’m also a cancer survivor. I had anal cancer and before you think something rude… I was married 21 years to a greedy controlling cold asshole. That’s why I got ass cancer. And that’s what gave me the strength to leave. Sometimes it takes near death to wake one up. Now 8 years out, here I am embarking on another change. Move to Spain, teach kids English, and travel some more. I’m not rich but I’ve saved a little to float until my pension kicks in, in a few years. That’s why I chose Spain. I can live here pretty cheap, and travel farther on less, and well have some fun finally. I’m no spring chicken,.I’m 58, and well..you never know when your pink slip on life will be handed to you. Been there done that… I’m not waiting for another one……..adios chicos and chicas
2 Responses
So wait. Argentinians are not punctual? Americans are actually punctual? That is kind of surprising. People I know from US always complain about punctuality.
Haha well they are latin. Of course not everyone is late everywhere. But it’s a loose generality. Yes as an American being late is a big deal. Most of us are over planners… And controlled by schedules unfortunately