The Chest Hospital - April 23, 2012

I wish I had photos to attach to this entry, it was such an interesting day.   I hope that I can give you a verbal snapshot of my day.  This is based on notes that I was taking on my phone, so understand that it’s basically chronological sequencing and I’m just transcribing my thoughts as they were occurring.

Today I am at the Chest Hospital.  Our business manager at school assigned me a school driver, Emad, because I was so afraid of going to a government hospital.  My experiences at New Mowasat clinic have been so good, but everyone told me how different it would be at a government hospital.  I am nervous because everything is written in Arabic.  Thank god for Emad.  Right now I am in the waiting room “female waiting area” and Emad is in the male waiting area.  The ladies’ toilet had two squatters and one toilet…no paper.  Thank heaven I put a new package of tissue in my purse this morning.  It has taken us an hour to get to this point, what with horrible morning traffic and a wrong stop at a hospital.  Everyone at our school has been confused, even the doctor.  The only one that seems to know anything is my referring doctor….and where is he when I need him?  LOL    Is it any wonder that my blood pressure is a little high?

Most of the ladies here are covered in full abayas.  Some of the more conservative ones are also wearing gloves and the face shield.  Also I have to comment that a lot of people here have cankles…men and women.  This hospital is so huge that there are porters to take you where you need to go.  It’s a very old building that is not very pretty but I understand that they practice good medicine here.

The nurses here in Kuwait wear the standard nursing whites with the old type of hat.  White stockings and all.

 There are so many patients here that the hospital has gone high tech.  You are given a number and you wait for the lit up sign; it shows your number and the room that you are to go to.  Then I was amazed to see people standing in the hallway, passing their paperwork to nurses through half-closed doors. What a mess and definitely not Western!  Emad is with me and we were directed to another hall and another office where we repeated the process.  The nurse took my referral letter and my file and told us to wait again.  Damn…..I forgot my Kindle.

The majority of men are wearing sandals. What really bugs me is when their feet hang over the edge of their sandal.  Can’t they buy them to fit???   Also, they have very rough bottoms of their feet especially around the edges, ugly calluses.  Barefoot all the way!!

I am waiting and waiting and waiting.  I am becoming sick to my stomach and beginning to feel the need to cry.  I feel so alone and scared.

I see an army man whose pants end above his boots (not tucked in) and he is bare legged.  Who would wear army boots without tall socks???

Holy shit.  The doctor wants to do the ablation.  I had to go and start a file with the receptionist.  The first woman I spoke to said she didn’t know what I was talking about.   I had to fetch Emad to help me   After that ordeal, I am back to waiting.

I am in a small waiting room with five ninjas.  That’s what my students call the women who are fully covered in black abayas.  Not one of them will even smile at me, much less engage in conversation.

I met a very nice lady from India who has severe back problems. It did make me think of Grace who gets so mad at me for visiting with anyone who gets close to me because I made a comment to her about looking like she was in pain.  That’s how our nice conversation began. Then, I was able to refer her to Rosie my massage therapist at Amendar.  This little lady was delightful.    She told me that she and her husband are Roman Catholics and that he works at the church compound.  Interesting.   And ironic.

So…..the doctor set up the procedure for May 24.  It is not a simple procedure (in my mind, anyway), but neither is it as drastic as surgery.   I will have to take 1 day off from work (Thursday) and then rest before returning to work on Sunday. 

Richard and Rachel, if you read this, rest assured that you were with me at the very beginning of this ordeal years ago and now it’s going to be over.   I wish you were here at the conclusion! 

Istanbul, not Constantinople

Friday, March 30, 2012   Day 1

Shawki, my taxi driver friend from Lebanon, picked up Ashlie, Kelli, and me at 5:00 a.m. to take us to the airport.  As we were visiting on the way out there, he kept telling me about “Turkish” instead of Turkey.  Maybe that’s the way that Lebanese translates into English?  LOL

The flight was only a few hours and Turkish Airlines took good care of us.  The lunch was lavish and even had real, metal utensils, not the plastic that U.S. airlines give you in economy.  I guess that Turkish Airlines isn’t worried about plane hijackings…..

I sat next to a nice little Kuwaiti girl.   I guessed her age at 17 or 18, but she said that she is at university.  We visited for awhile before I read my Kindle (forced to read because my movie player didn’t work).  She was very nice and was also traveling to Istanbul (with her family) for the first time.

After we arrived at the airport, the three of us got our visas, went through passport check, and on to baggage.  I couldn’t believe my luck…I walked up to the carousel and there was my bag!   That has never happened to me ever before!  When we were walking out of the airport to look for a cab, there was a guy with a sign, “Ashlie Moody!”   Ashlie didn’t order pick up service, but we were very happy.   For a few Turkish lira, he also dropped me at my hotel.

 Our room is very small, but clean and nice.  The concierge, Rebi, is delightful and very helpful.  I had heard that finding English-speaking people is more difficult in Turkey, so I am happy that he speaks very well.  Not only that, but he’s cute!  I could with for some room in our room to turn around in, but I guess that this will work. 

 I had a few hours to kill before I had to go back to the airport to pick up Grace, so I decided to take a walk.  I only went a few steps when a street “hustler” invited me into a restaurant.   Since I did need lunch, I said yes.  Now, I call him a “hustler” because I don’t know a better word for it.  He stands out at the main intersection at our corner and tries to talk people into choosing this restaurant over all the other restaurants in the neighborhood.  I didn’t know this when I was approached; I thought he was just a nice guy trying to suggest a good eating place!  It turns out that his name is Ozzy, and he became our "friend." 

Anyhow, my lunch was delicious.  I tried a variety of cold beginners and discovered that my beloved warak enab (stuffed grape leaves) is made differently here.  All in all, it was a great way to taste Turkish cuisine.  The highlight of the lunch was a delightful stewy thing cooked in a ceramic pot shaped like a vase. 

As soon as I was finished and walked back to my hotel, Ashlie and Kelli were there and we proceeded to pick up Grace at the airport.   First, we had to get on the tram and figure out which stop to exit at; what an experience.  Because it was lightly raining and because commuters were getting off work, the tram was cram packed.  I am not just saying that….literally, it was like being a sardine.  I was worried because I was short and everyone had their arm raised to hold onto the handles, and I was afraid that I would be smelling dirty armpits.  But thankfully, I avoided that problem. 

 Then we had to get on the subway and ride to the end of the line.  The tram was a little less packed and more comfortable.  We made it through the metal detectors into the airport, which was packed!  And even though we were late, Grace was nowhere to be found.  I walked around and around, looking all over the place.  Ashlie and Kelli were having no luck, either.  I was about ready to cry, wondering where in the world she could be, when the girls told me to be patient and wait…what if something happened and the flight was late?  Anything could happen, so we needed to be patient.   They waited on one side of the entrance and I waited on the other, hoping and praying that the next person through would be Grace.  I got distracted and she came through the door and the girls found her!   When I saw them, I almost cried from happiness!  My Gracie is a beautiful young woman!!  My vacation could have ended right then and I would have been happy….I can’t believe how much I have missed her.