I had to leave the flat today at 6:00 am in order to meet Zuska at school (Berlitz) at 6:30 am. We were going to the doctor in Eastern Europe for my official visit to the doctors office to get my work permit. When I got to school, Zuska asked me if I had my passport. Well…I had prepared everything the night before: From copies of test results to my health records, letter from Dr. Bohun, HIV results and blood 🩸 type, to World Health vaccination chart. No passport.

She said, “Oh it’s no problem. I can call a taxi and we go to your flat, and then with taxi to the doctors.” Zuzska’s so cool and always has a “no problem” attitude. So we went by taxi to my flat at 6:40 am. I ran in and out, and we headed to the conglomeration of very old and fractured buildings that makes up the medical complex.

Going to the Doctor in Eastern Europe

The hall where we first waited was small and narrow. (Waiting behind closed doors again, like at the post and customs offices.) There were two young girls, and a young man waiting to have blood taken. Something I was not wanting to do here. I’d been forewarned of the possibility of contaminated reused needles in Eastern Europe. However, I’ve come to believe that is only in the worst-off eastern countries – probably not in Czech and Slovak Republics, nor in Hungary. At least I had myself convinced of this. Until I got there and saw how unsanitary the conditions were.

Not bad mind you. Going to the doctor in Eastern Europe is just not what we’ve come to expect in the good old US of A. They definitely tried. The building itself was old and crumbling. The hallway boasted faded charts of Hep A Worldwide in three colors. Europe was the mid-risk area; US not at risk; Asia and Africa high-risk. Also a sign about Type A or B with dripping blood 🩸 on hands. Some faded promotional charts from pharm companies. Probably not intended for patients to see…complete with boxes of dosage were on display.

Blood?

As I peered into the door of the blood-letting room, I became a bit more leery. Although I had resigned that if they’re testing for HIV they probably won’t use contaminated needles. The soap 🧼 however, hanging from the sink was in a mesh bag slung around the faucet. There were paper towels, no gloves were worn, and no disinfectant. Mom (a nurse practitioner) would just die.

They called me in, shortly after 7:00. Zuska told me to show them my papers. Luckily I had everything done in San Diego, even though I was questionable on getting the HIV testing. Last night I looked over all my test results, hoping they contained all the necessary information that was required, to prove I’m not a walking infectious person about to contaminate the country! So far as I could tell, my lab reports contained some, not all, requirements. There were seven items needed, as I had checked on the Slovak embassy website to see what  exactly they were after.

Different Than at Home

Luck Be A Lady! I was free from having them take my blood!! I had even fasted for 12 hours before and drank water so my veins wouldn’t be dehydrated. You know I usually won’t even look at the needle, but this time I was definitely checking it out and I saw the two they intended to use, with a sealed band across the middle, so I figured they were brand new.

Nonetheless, was I ever relieved. So after the two nurses interpreted and poured over my records back and forth, looking and pointing at things, we were excused to go and wait in the hall. Waiting again, behind closed doors, for the doctor, who arrived at 8:00.

It was a female doctor, who looked competent and carried a cell phone, wore glasses and white. She had a stethoscope 🩺, and spoke some English. Enough to ask questions.

All the nurses and lab 🥼 people I saw wore white pants and white smocks. They were not real fresh or pressed. In some cases the fronts were so dirty (not necessarily blood stained) that I couldn’t tell if they were butchers, or from a meat shop, or in the medical 🏥 profession. Most all of them I saw were wearing socks (white or blue) and slip-on sandals, like Dr. Scholls. Not so good, I’d say. No gloves, I repeat.

Once we were finally summoned into the doctors tiny office (or rather I was summoned) she wanted my local address and I had to go out and ask Zuska. Just before that Jae had called Zuska on her cell phone from a taxi, wanting to know the address of the preschool where he worked. It was so funny.

The office was small, had a cot with clean white sheets, a desk on which she had gotten Woman’s Day flowers 💐, an old blood pressure reader (with the thing that falls on a stick). And a typewriter manual from the 1950’s- on which she typed with a real blue-carbon between the papers.

Personal Questions Going to the Doctor in Eastern Europe

She asked me questions from basic to personal, to confidential in the U.S. And asked some questions whereupon they should have checked.

Name, date, and place of birth. Health history, family health history. Which childhood diseases have I had, was I ever pregnant, ever had abortion. What countries have I traveled to besides U.S. and Europe (I didn’t touch that one with Mexico 🇲🇽 as who knows to what testing that would lead). My height (they laughed after converting the inches to centimeters as I was just 45 centimeters over one meter?), weight (47-48 kg – they laughed at this too and said I need to eat lots of Knüdle).

She asked about my birth control and why I take Depro. She didn’t think it was good not to have any periods. Next she inquired how long I’ve been/ would stay in Slovakia, and said that I could get my second Hepatitis shot there. She showed me the box and asked if that’s the same on I had. Noticing the Gross PNP (mom signature) relation. Said she needs proof of the test that I don’t have syphilis. If I drink or smoke? No. Keep it simple. She didn’t ask about exercise or eating. She didn’t take my temperature, weight, height, or blood pressure, pulse, etc.

Anyway, I survived and passed the oral examination. The TB test however was not sufficient. I had to get a chest X-Ray. The doctor assured me however that it was a very quick X-ray and not dangerous.

On we went, to another building to wait in an area behind (or in front of rather) more closed doors. Oh and she couldn’t copy my papers as they had no copy machine. (Zuska had to bring them to school and make new copies.) Obviously there’s no copy machine if she’s typing with a carbon paper!

Walking and Waiting 

This waiting area was quite full. Being informed that it would be a while, we decided to walk and come back. We walked out of the medical complex, past more doctors and med students in (wearing) Dr. Scholls and overcoats, to the street.

If I didn’t already have dirty lungs I would after this walk. The trucks and even cars spew out ghastly dark fumes that can be pretty noxious. I always hold my breath- especially now before my chest X-ray. Although I know I don’t have tuberculosis, I’m still worried a bit about my lung cancer (imagined) acting up.

Out walking, the ever friendly Zuska spotted a university friend of hers, who had recently returned from Cuba and was freezing. I can relate. As the only person in town still donning a (winter) headband and gloves. (No scarf.) We talked about our boyfriends, hobbies, work and travel. She has travelled a lot. And always goes to their mountain house (flat) on the weekends. But was never in America.

The X-Ray Area

Back we went, and re-waited. There were three rooms – Kabinka 1, 2, 3. Two of them had red and white lights above the door 🚪, one of which lit up during the actual zap of renkins. It was scary, watching them, some were short, and a couple (for an elderly lady who could barely walk) were quite long. It reminded me of the Norma Rae movie at the nuclear ☢️ power plant. They called people in, seemingly randomly, while the others waited and watched (or not) the light 💡.

Finally, it was my moment. Zuska went with me, in the in-between room, to translate. I had to strip on the top with no coverage sheet or wrap as is customary in the US, only to stand half-naked very vulnerable in waiting. Meanwhile the nurse helped the elderly – longer Renkin zapped lady – to dress in Kabinka 2 nextdoor.

No privacy, just a dark, open large room with heavy matting on the windows and no lights. Lots of strange machines. Each of the 3 Kabinkas opened into this central X-ray area. I was told to stand in front of the screen, turn around, put my arms down, and by Zuska not to breathe. (I felt like a Jewish person at the concentration camp.) Then zink, it was all over.

 A very brave girl!

Success! I redressed and we quickly tried to leave. But were informed to wait and be sure the X-ray turned out alright and I hadn’t breathed…Yes, we were free!! They would call us with the results tomorrow. (Still some time to worry.)

Zuzanna said, “You are a very brave girl! You should have seen Arya and Robin, they were so scared- they turned pale!”

After that total experience we walked back to school and I was told that Mrs. Langelova, my landlady would be to my flat in 1/2 hour. She was bringing the tv and washing machine. So home I went to meet them. They delivered and she said the man would come tomorrow a.m. to hook it up. And she’d come back to fix the t.v. channels.

I lunched, then went to email and back to school (Berlitz) for two units with a 16 year-old boy. Had a break, then two units with the nice beginner couple. We made good solid progress.

After class, Chris and I were the last ones there, as usual with the cleaning lady. He was in a grumpy mood with his group, and I survived a headache with my duo. Keep it simple.

 

Thursday 11 March, 1999

This is an excerpt from my Kosice Journal, documenting my exodus from a (relatively happy) bustling life in beautiful San Diego, to (voluntarily) take a post teaching English in the newly independent eastern capital of Slovakia  during a very cold winter 1999.