After registering at Leon's Albergue Peregrinos, I followed the route map provided by the hostel owner to find a place to seek medical help. At that time, I just wanted someone to prescribe me antibiotics, thinking that what I had was nothing serious. I thought it might be just a non-traditional UTI. Fellow travelers said seeking medical help is easier in big cities, with more comprehensive facilities and better transportation, etc. Who knew when I walked in, it was a hospital, and, later I found out, it was a private hospital. Why couldn't it be a small clinic, as I had intended to go to? That would have been much easier, much more efficient. Then I could walk in and walk out in less than an hour, and move on with the rest of the day’s routine, right? But that's another story.
When I walked in, not knowing Spanish, I asked someone standing next to me for help, and soon a helper arrived. I ended up finding myself an interpreter, let's call her S, and she turned out to be a professional interpreter hired by the hospital! Why would I need a professional interpreter? No idea. I didn’t ask for one.
S led me to a room, where medical staff checked my vital signs, took blood and urine samples, asked me to get an X-ray in another room, performed ultrasounds, and so on. I was asked to come back in about an hour to check with the next doctor on duty. I went out for a quick bite with my friend, L, before I rushed back again.
The conversation with the new doctor on this shift was brief. After all tests and checkups, I was told that hiking was temporarily out of the question.
"Doctor, what's wrong with me?" I asked.
"We're not sure yet. We lack some equipment here, so you need to go to a larger hospital for a comprehensive examination as soon as possible. Since we're unsure of your condition, we can't prescribe any medication. I'm sorry," S translated for me, also provided me with the address of a larger hospital and settled the bill for the day. Wow, nearly four hundred euros spent in a few hours. I couldn't use my medical insurance card, nor could I reach the insurance company by phone from overseas. At that moment, at my wits’ end, I paid for the expenses out of pocket!
Coming out of the private hospital, I walked to the intersection. How do I get to the hospital? I wondered, not knowing where the hospital was. Two tall handsome young men happened to walk by, so I stopped them, and asked them to help me call a taxi in Spanish. Most young people know some English, I was glad to find out. They readily agreed and told me to wait at xxx for the taxi. After waiting for a long time without any taxi stopping for me, I stopped another passerby to help me call another taxi.
The taxi took me from one corner of the bustling Leon to the other side of the city. After paying the driver, I went into the hospital for medical help. I thought if I left the large city like Leon without getting any medication or diagnosis, I wouldn't know where to go next to seek medical help and buy medication, should my condition get worse. The Apps and website resources indicated that the next few stops seemed to be smaller towns and villages.
I waited for my turn at the registration and right afterwards. It was around 6:30 in the evening. There were quite a few staff members at the reception of this fairly large facility. Wasn't it supposed to be less crowded at this hour? Weren’t people supposed to be eating their dinner? Wait, where would I eat my dinner? Never mind. I wasn’t hungry anyway.
I asked someone nearby some questions, trying to understand the process of seeking medical care here. Finally, someone understood what I needed and led me to a waiting area. The space was large, and there were many people waiting there. Was I really a patient now? The next few hours were filled with various tests and examinations—another round of blood and urine tests, ultrasounds, CT scans, X-rays, and so on. It was like – a staff member came by, gestured to me to follow him/her, we went to a place, got tested/scanned, then I was returned to the chair in the same waiting room… But no one told me what was wrong with me, no one prescribed me any medication, and no one communicated with me how they would medically treat me, or how they might treat me... I didn’t feel sick, nor did I look sick. I had only wanted to take care of this concerning symptoms of mine. Why was it so hard and costly?? The hostel I was staying in had a curfew of 10:30pm. After that, no one would open the door for me even if I showed up. It was already past 1 o'clock in the morning the next day. I sat in the waiting room with other patients, still without a diagnosis, still without any prescription medication or any recommended over-the-counter drugs.
Time passed so slowly while waiting. I looked at the clock on the wall, quietly, as the hospital staff continued its usual course. Patients and their families came and went, and it was getting late, very late… How much longer would I have to wait? What was I waiting for? Would there be any accommodations in the hospital for me? Any bed for me to rest on, rather than a chair? The medical staff didn't communicate much with me about what specific tests they were conducting or what diagnosis and treatment plans they had. I asked, but couldn't get a clear answer. My speaking English didn’t help that night. Would I be able to walk the Camino tomorrow? I must. I could, could I? I felt confused, and started to feel restless. I got to do something about it!! I had to find a way to leave there by any means necessary! I had to go back to Saint James's Way, and complete my journey by the set date! I must!
I made a series of attempts to communicate with some staff members and eventually with the doctor in English through Google Translator (the doctor typed Spanish in the Translator, and showed me his computer screen, one side Spanish, and the other English). I was asked to sign some papers, ensuring the hospital that I wouldn't hold them responsible after leaving the hospital, no matter what might happen to me in the future. Finally I got into a taxi and left – still without a diagnosis, still without any medication. I was glad that I tried to find out about my condition, was disappointed at the end result, and was extremely grateful to encounter a team of medical staff who seemed to be truly responsible, caring and empathetic, and who had all the good intentions to help me. I was aware that medical treatments would take far more than good intentions.
That night, I stayed with a friend, L. It was her who provided me with a place to stay that night at her hotel.
It was close to three in the morning when I arrived at her place!
Keyword:
Cherish life
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