… no matter where they come from?
I was planning a nice post, where I was about to tell you that I moved to Cluj, however it seems that we’re going to be skipping these steps, because I already have complaints!
Not even a month has passed since I moved to the wonderful city of Cluj, because literally,
“I have been plagued”… I am not certain how this happened, but in the very moment I’m writing this, my kidneys hurt as hell! And it shouldn’t have been like this, right? Because I had a visit to the hospital, in the Emergency room, from the earlier-mentioned city of actual residence.
Oh well, crap! It seems it’s a common disease all the doctors in Romania get. Wherever you’d go, goddamn it if someone actually properly explains the situation to you. So, there I was, arrived in the Emergeny room where a doctor took me in… Told him everything I knew about my condition, medically speaking, blood was taken from me, urine sample was collected, yadda yadda, whatever there had to be done…
Everything apparently nice and dandy… until then.
After which, I wait for about 2 hours until I get the tests results. In this time, I barely saw around the doctor that took me in.
I get it, he was busy… but, still, wouldn’t you want to know how your patient is doing?
Anyway, my tests results finally show up, I am told I have an ugly urinary infection aaaaaaaaaand that’s about it. Not anything else about it… Where does it come, what could have formed it, nothing, zilch, nada. I mean, hello! I might be on my death bed, but if I am to die, it would be nice of you to tell me exactly why.
After which, apparently, let’s have an ultrasound. And here comes the weird part.
I didn’t quite get this thing as I am not a doctor or anything but… why abdominal, if my kidneys are the ones hurting?
I came crying my eyes out of kidney pain, not abdomen pain.
I didn’t get what the abdomen has in common with the kidneys since I am not a medic. Logically that, when the palpation session took place I explained the doctor about the pain I previously had, aaand to top all my confusion off, I see him changing his mind and sending me to the gynecologist. Say what? Hello, Mr. Doctor sir, I believe I have mentioned this before but the ones that are hurting me are the kidneys. The kidneys. Not other inferior parts of my body, unworthy of mentioning at this very moment. Kidneys. Those are the ones hurting!
Okay, I might be exaggerating a bit, the pain had decreased given the fact that I was given an intravenous Nos-pa. Not to talk about the drama, given that I told the assistant lady who came to collect some blood samples to be careful, because my veins are hard to find. But of course, I was the one doing the talking, and also the listening… And then I hear her telling me not to panic. It was a full-blown say what moment.
I am just clenching my jaws because the IV thingie that goes on my vein hurts like crap, meanwhile you’re the one spilling my blood all over, and dropping God knows how many utensils around my hand and the bed I’m sitting on.
Tell me, dear lady, who’s the one between the two of us panicking, exactly? In case you did not notice, I had two sources of pain on my very self. Wouldn’t it seem normal for me to make those sounds? Sounds that one makes when they’re in pain? That doesn’t equal panicking. On the other hand, I am not sure what to say about your dropped items around, and general spilling of my blood…
Anyway, getting past that, as I was telling you, I was sent to Gynecology. Why exactly? I never really understood, even to this day.
Check done, prescription given aaaaaand… that’s about it. Not to talk about the “Mr. doctor” who was on duty on that night. Very slicker. All jokes with the secretary, or resident, I am not sure which was which. He had time for that. But no time to explain exactly what condition I was under. Niet, nada, zilch! Once again.
So, two different wards, more an “ugly urinary infection” I didn’t get. From any of the doctors. Not to say that somewhere on those white and pink papers said that I should be performing two check-ups: a surgical one and an urological one. Urological one already done. Uhm, hello, I am coming from there? Urinary infection… does that ring a bell?
And besides the urological one, a surgical one. When I first heard it, I was about to feint. I imagined scalpels and God knows what. Apparently, it was just a palpation that had to be done.
Guess how much time I spent waiting for the surgical consult personnel? Two hours. Exactly. Two freaking hours. At some point, I slammed my phone and identity card on the chair I was sitting, and started obsessively moving my foot. I was running so out of patience, that I kind of scared a poor assistant that was there, asking me if I am ok.
I told her that yes, I am okay, but I’m waiting for two hours already for that damn surgical consult.
In the end, a visibly disturbed lady comes around, whining about why is she being called… You guess it, she was from the surgical personnel who had to come and check me up. She was visibly disturbed because, how dare people call her? But how dare you to waste hours of my life? Or, I am not to count in this matter, poor, mortal me?
She finally takes me in, consults me, and yells at the other doctor about why would he recommend a surgical consult? That what I have is a renal colic on the left side. I don’t need a surgical consult.
Trink! I hear another diagnostic. Soo, not just urinary infection… Good. I think.
And as I was getting ready to ask a set of question, the doctor in charge rapidly stormed-out of the situation. Even if I was to be a TGV (those are the fastest, right?) I wasn’t going to catch him.
He still appeared, shortly after to give me the release papers. He also told me that he was going to be sending an assistant to get off the IV from my arm.
And here I am, quite confused, with no answers to the questions such as: what do I do if the kidneys pain crisis comes back? And many other questions related to the subject, unanswered, as I said.
To be honest, this experience left me disappointed. Very disappointed. I lived under the impression that being in Cluj – a greatly renown town for its medical prowess, a town which everybody praises, patients would be treated differently.
But no, apparently, it doesn’t matter if you’re in Severin – aka my hometown for who doesn’t know – or you’re in Cluj, it’s the same. Same story. Different pen.
So, here I am, stuck again with a killer kidney pain, not knowing exactly what to do, following a medical treatment which… to be quite honest with you gives me doubts it’s going to be working. But hey, I am not the doctor, right?
Looks like until I won’t be having enough money to go to a private clinic, everything that involves the state, it’s the same story. No matter we’re talking about a small city like my hometown, or a big city – hailed to be second in command, after its capital.
It is, after all, a common disease in all doctors…