On Friday, I had the opportunity to visit a state hospital here in Arequipa. Thankfully, it wasn’t because someone we knew was there. One of our teachers, Edgar, and I had been talking recently in class about the health system here, and I told him that I really wanted to see a hospital. Michael and Edgar’s wife, Julie, watched Noah and their 3-year-old, Sebastian, while Edgar and I went to visit Hospital General.
Edgar is actually a Biologist, but teaching English is what pays the bills. So, he knew a few people that worked in the hospital from his university days. Unfortunately, none of them were working that day, but he had another motive to visit as well. His mom is on dialysis and he needed to donate blood on her behalf.
The basic, concrete structure is at least 40 years old, but seems as though no repairs have been made on it since the day it was built. There are six floors and a basement, and on several floors you see broken windows – cheap ventilation, I guess. We tried to enter through the Emergency room to get to the blood bank, just one floor above, but of course we had to walk around to the other side of the building to get there. In the Emergency room, though, it is the secretary that is doing the triaging, not even a nurse. Once she determines what problem you’re having, they let you pass through the door to pay upfront for services you haven’t received yet.
Edgar talked to the lady in the blood bank, who gave him 2 orders/receipts, one to buy the equipment for the collection, and another for the lab processing – bills adding up to over 200 soles (about $60). I honestly don’t know if you need to do the same thing in the States if you are donating specifically for someone, BUT I always thought donating blood should be free. Then she told us we needed to walk back to the Emergency room cashier to give proof that items would be paid for – confusing to me, it all seemed like pointless paper-passing, and the guy receiving them didn’t know what to do, just put a rubber stamp on them and we were on our way to explore the rest of the hospital.
One thing that continually surprised me as we walked through the hospital, was the lack of patient privacy. Edgar showed me the laboratory where, through the window, there is an envelope filled with lab results of patients. If your family member was in an emergency, you could come, reach through the window and find the lab results of your family member, or anyone else’s for that matter. We took the one functioning elevator (out of 4) to the 2nd floor and walked down the dingy, dimly lit halls. This was the pediatric unit. On one side there were rooms that had up to six patients in them and the other side had private rooms. At the end of the hall was the nurse’s station (there’s only 1 on duty for about 40 patients), with a list of all the patients’ names, room number, even their category of illness – there for anyone to see. Past the station was a large room filled with more patients, three sections of two sides, with six patients in each side. If the family wanted to bring a T.V. from home to make things a little better, they could. If the family wanted to buy/bring a pitcher for water and cups, they could. Truly nothing is really provided except an old bed and sheets that are often ripped or sewn back together and meals (those didn’t appear to be exactly gourmet, either). You even need to bring your own towels and toilet paper. I peeked inside the bathroom (yes, just one for the unit) to find an enormous pile of soiled linens in the corner. But, these patients are only paying about $5 a day to stay there, if they can afford it, otherwise they pay nothing at all – which I believe is the majority. Without family members to do all the buying of medicines and supplies needed, they have nothing. And, of course, if your loved one is in the hospital, you can’t go to work and you will not be paid any sick leave.
We passed the surgery unit, where families were just lining the halls waiting from any word about their loved ones – no waiting rooms. For deliveries, fathers are still not permitted to be with their wives, they just pace up and down the halls just like in old movies. We passed through the burn unit, which, not-surprisingly was exactly like the other ones we had seen – not particularly clean with only rudimentary equipment. We did notice that they were constructing a new ICU, which looked like it would be an improvement.
Before we left, Edgar ran to return the papers to the Blood Bank, while I waited outside the emergency room door. I noticed their two ambulances, one of which was a Land Rover, clearly from the “M.A.S.H.” era, the other a Chevy Van from the 80s, but I suppose they serve their purpose. I watched as one young patient, in a wheel chair with an IV, was pushed to the curb as they waited for the taxi. She had a blanket around her head and her arm was in a sling. When the taxi pulled up, they removed the blanket to reveal a bandage around her head; she could barely stand. Something happened inside me and before I knew it I was helping her get into the car, along with her mother and a tech that was with them. All I could say was, “Que Dios le bendiga!” as I closed her door.With all the pain I saw in that hospital, God truly is the only one that can give them hope beyond the sufferings of this world. They surely can’t rely on the government, or the health system to do it for them.
The girls are even trying to teach Noah to ride!
We drove about a 1/2 hour up the RÃo Chili, the river that goes through Arequipa. (We started in the same area where we went hiking with Erin Houlihan back in July - just in case your reading, Erin) What a blast!! I have never done rafting before and this was a perfect course for beginners. There were mostly class 2 and 3 rapids with one class 4, for all you rafting pros out there. Yes, we got soaking wet in very cold mountain water. Those suits we were wearing were definitely not waterproof, but they did help against the breeze after being so wet. Michael, however, got much colder than I did after deciding to jump from a big rock at one of our breaks.
Cute little boy and his vicuña
Speaking of running, Noah is becoming quite the futbolista. Throwing and kicking soccer balls are his favorite things to do outside (besides running), and he goes crazy whenever he sees a ball or a picture of one. "Ball! Ball!" he yells, sometimes sticking out his tongue on the "L" for emphasis. His latest game is to kick or throw the ball between my legs, and then shout, doing his best (high-pitched) Latino announcer impersonation, "Goooooooool!" I have no idea where he picked it up - it's not like we say that, and we don't really watch much soccer on TV. Must be in the air here.
And of course, Noah is ever the aspiring artist. He still dances to music, even to my quena melodies, high-stepping around the room and turning circles. He loves - to the point of mild obsession - guitars, or "Ga-ga" as he calls them. Several times a day he begs me to take out my guitar so he can listen or play. Sometimes we practice duets! (see above) He has his own quena as well, which he hums into instead of blowing.
Reeds, reeds everywhere! They even eat the inside of them when fresh, and we got to try a few bites.
