Doctors and Beers

                Tuesday chalks up to one of the strangest days I have ever experienced whilst living overseas.  It all began a couple of Thursdays ago when I noticed a painfully sore throat emerging on my way home from visiting Buglem.  I brushed it off, took some medicine and went to bed.  However the sore throat quickly developed into a chest tightness, and hacking up (I wouldn't say coughing because it wasn't a consistent thing) disgusting coloured mucus from deep in my throat/lungs are somewhere of the like.  I managed to brave the pharmacy to pick up some medicinal cough drops (which you can only buy from pharmacies here, which is a titch annoying as they are closed on the weekend) and heating up raki (to numb the throat pain, and quite possibly kill all the bacteria living there- that stuff is potent) however with the pain keeping me awake at night, and more rusty blood coloured stuff starting to appear with my hacking, I decided to swallow my pride and ask someone to take me to the doctor.

              

             The second weekend of a lack of sleep found me asking Onder about the medical plan to see how much money this outing would cost me.  It turns out that since our papers are still being processed (another rant for another day) the school was going to have to front the bill (an added bonus after the unforeseen addition of the winter heating bills the school is making us pay despite the fact that it is not written in the contract- again, another rant) which quite pleased me.  He told me to go and then bring them the bill.  Now Onder is a bit clueless, so I gently reminded him that while I have made significant advances with my Turkish, navigating a doctor’s office and knowing the word for ‘phlegm’ and such are not yet in my vernacular.  To which (after his unnecessary display of surprise) he said that either he, Yasar or Gungor would take me. 

              

              I had a guess that Gungor would be the one slotted for this duty (as one is a bit awkward and the other has a tendency to be an ass) and so I was not surprised when I got a message saying that Gungor would pick me up at 3:30pm on Tuesday and take me to the **hospital (don’t worry- Turkish people always go to the hospital for everything.  It sounds serious but is the equivalent of a mere doctor’s visit)  Anyways, he picked me up and said we had two options- we could go to his family doctor (and a friend of his) or we could go to the big hospital, although that would take longer. Since I was already feeling guilty about taking up his afternoon we went to see his family doctor (who is located a stone’s throw from my house- I didn't even know there was a doctor’s office there).  We went in and made small talk, Gungor translated my symptoms for me, she checked my throat and my lungs and determined that my throat was infected but because of the blood, she wanted to send me to the specialist, so (apologizing profusely for the inconvenience) we headed to the hospital.

               

            Now Malatya is full of hospitals (seriously a ridiculous amount of hospitals) both public and private- but Gungor knows someone who works in admissions at the new big one, so off we went.  We met his friend and chatted with him and his wife (naturally) and then this man ferried us around the hospital (which was good because it was big) to this desk, and that desk until we found where we were going.  We finally registered me (which I have a feeling went most faster than it should have due to our guide) and then they stuck a needle in my arm to take blood (routine), but what was odd was that after they finished the blood test, they left the needle taped in my arm- in case they needed to do more later (spoiler alert: they didn't) and then sent me for a lung x-ray (again- spoiler alert: everything was normal) and then sent us away for two hours (still with a needle in my arm).  Gungor asked what I wanted to do, and jokingly, I suggested the pub, and then in all seriousness I said he could go home, and I would stay and read.  It was already getting quite late and I was feeling guilty.  He shrugged off both of my suggestions and instead called one of his friends.

               

             Gungor’s favourite way of drinking is to have a friend drive slowly around Malatya and the surrounding villages while he drinks.  On this particular outing, I tagged along.  (Joe was very jealous he didn't come to the hospital with me.)  We picked up his friend and some beers (at first I was supposed to only be allowed one, but after the first one he caved and gave me more) and we laughed and talked from books to religion to travel, driving 40km/hr around the city for two hours.  Two hours later (a little drunk) we headed back to the hospital to get the results- and if there is ever a way to not worry about test results it is to drink a few beers while you are waiting- and found the doctor to take the needle out of my arm.  Since everything was normal except for my raw throat, they told me I had a throat infection, and would need some antibiotics.  Gungor bought be a ‘celebratory beer’, which I gave most of to Joe in exchange for him cooking me an egg sandwich.  All in all an interesting outing- unfortunately there is no photographic evidence of this strange day, but alas.   All’s well that ends well.