To clarify, 'Casualty' in my country is what Americans refer to as the ER.
A week ago, I woke up at 3am with indigestion that soon turned into severe pain. Eventually it subsided and I fell asleep. When I woke up in the morning I didn't feel that bad although when I tried eating something at midday, there was a repeat of the pain, which remained excruciating until later, when I decided to ask a friend to take me to the hospital since I wasn't up to driving myself. I have had an inflamed stomach before but this felt different: the pain was much worse and I felt like I had a temperature.
For people like me who don't have private healthcare plans, the local hospital is the only option and it is a teaching hospital so the care is not bad but corruption and mismanagement has seen our state hospitals operating on shoestring budgets for years and it really shows. At least it was a week-night so Casualty didn't resemble a war zone, as it does on weekends.
When you arrive, you first get assessed by the triage nurses who give you a code:
Red - immediate attention
Yellow - you'll get seen when they aren't busy with road accident victims or something
Green - they think that you are being a nuisance who refused to join the queue in the outpatient department so they will make you wait even longer
Outside the triage room, there is a sign which says:
'Waiting is good. It means that you are not dying.
The person you need to feel sorry for is the one who gets rushed into the Emergency Department and treated first'
Great. I got coded yellow and sent off to the waiting room. While sitting there, I saw that they had a psychiatric patient who had been very heavily sedated and tied to the stretcher by his wrists and ankles. Despite being unable to open his eyes, he was trying to sit up and pleading to be untied so that he could lie on his stomach. The staff weren't interested and he was eventually wheeled off elsewhere.
To my surprise, I was called fairly quickly and the doctor said that although I had a history of stomach pain, my heart was beating very fast and that she wanted to do an ECG. While she was busy hooking up the machine, she got a phone call and told them that she'd be there shortly. The doctor finished the ECG and then told me that she 'just going upstairs to admit a patient' Uh-oh. I think it must have been the poor young man I'd seen tied to the bed. An hour later, she still wasn't back and I was thoroughly bored so I started taking pictures of my surroundings:
The wall, where it gets bashed from wheeling stretchers in and out
Cubicle door. Yes, the brown smudge is an old blood stain
I suppose yellow paint will do in a pinch after you repair the wall
Small, old bloodstain next to the bed. It wasn't the only one
While I was waiting, the floor got mopped and the blanket on the bed changed. It seems the walls are not a priority.
Eventually, the doctor returned and told me that they would treat me for an inflamed stomach but the meds weren't available now, they would give me one and I needed to return in the morning and get the rest from the pharmacy. I was also given a referral letter to see the specialist. I admitted that I'd been told to see one four years ago but hadn't. "Well now it's come back to bite you" said the doctor. I refrained from replying that I couldn't face the public healthcare system because the Casualty doctors get to work 30-hour shifts in there so I can't bring myself to be unkind to them.
About 3 hours later, I was out of there and resigned to returning in the morning and actually booking that appointment.
Next morning, I got up early and felt fit to drive. Thanks, Lansoprazole! Off to the hospital for meds. Surprisingly, the pharmacy wait was slightly more than an hour and after wandering around the labyrinth of the Specialist department, I finally found the place where you book and got an appointment in a month's time. Had I been smarter, I'd have done my booking while my number was in the queue in the pharmacy. Oh well. An hour and a half later, I was out of there.
Stay tuned for further episodes in Hospital Hell-hole, I'm sure there will be more