I should start off this story with saying that while yes, Ebola has made its way to Spain, and yes this discovery hit the news the same day I went to the doctor in Spain, no I am not infected with Ebola.
That being said, I begin. For about the last week or so the late nights and vacation-like schedule have been taking their toll on my immune system to the point where on Monday my throat was so sore and swollen I couldn't even turn my head without pain and discomfort. After suffering through the school day I decided it was high time I try out the spanish healthcare system. Our CIEE orientation prepared me for how and where to make an appointment, so I called "Hospiquality" and headed to my appointment later that evening.
The hospital had a wonderful and very kind international team who helped me fill out paperwork, and lead me to the waiting room where I was assured I would be taken care of promptly. CIEE participants are taken care of very well at this facility, I had been informed at orientation.
However, as I sat in the waiting room for the first half hour I began to have déjà vu to every single time I go to the doctor at home, and even though I've made an appointment well in advance, I always seem to wait at least an hour once I get there. I tried to be patient as patient after patient entered the waiting room after me, and saw the doctor before me but after another young american girl was in and out in 10 minutes I lost it. I politely told the doctor that I had been waiting for over an hour, and if he knew why I hadn't been seen yet. Then things got weird.
He told me I wasn't on his list, then proceeded to call the international correspondent upstairs where he actually yelled at her for 5 minutes about a mistake she had made with registering me for my appointment. I was then ushered back downstairs where the "nurse" told me I would have to be helped in the emergency room because at this point the doctors offices were about to close. And cue tears.
I wasn't sad as much as I was just frustrated and in a lot of pain. Plus, I know how the ER works in the United States and sore throat definitely comes in at the bottom of the totem pole of emergency conditions. Crying was probably the best thing I could have done though, because I totally freaked the nurse out and she got me into the ER doctor right away. I explained my symptoms and he prescribed me some antibiotics and a cortisone shot, for the swelling in my throat. At first I thought this sounded a little extreme and I was leery, but I would have tried witchcraft at that point so I went with it, assuming it would be a small stick in the shoulder no harm no foul.
So imagine my confusion when the male ER nurse pulls the privacy curtain and instructs me to put my hands on the bed, slide my pants down, and bend over. Surely I was being punked, right? Sure enough he took that SOB and stuck it right in my left buttock. I have 2 theories as to why they gave me this shot of cortisone: the first, to put me in more pain than I was already in to serve as some sort of sick distraction, the second to actually alleviate the swelling. Either way I was confused and slightly mortified, but I was treated and I could finally pay my bill and head to the pharmacy on my way home. They made me a follow up appointment for tonight with an ear nose and throat specialist, so even though I'm feeling a million times better hopefully I'll be good to go in a few more days. And so help me if they tell me to drop my drawers again I'm going to tell them they can stick it up theirs cause that sucker hurt!!
