Sunday, August 17, 2008

I 1/2 tonsillitis

I have tonsillitis.

The good thing about getting sick is that I’ve been reminded how amazing my friends here are. They’ve brought me soup, kept me company when I wanted to chat, stayed away when I was feeling too miserable to talk, and one of my friends made me the most amazing lemon-ginger-honey tea and brought me bits of her novel to read. I loved them all already, but I think I love them even more now.

The bad thing about getting sick is that I had to see a doctor. And that I’ve been coughing so much my stomach muscles hurt from all the wheezing.

I started feeling weird during a morning meeting at work. I thought maybe it was just because the meeting felt like it was dragging on, or that there were so many people in such a small room, and despite the enthusiastic air conditioning that pumps through buildings here during summer, it was starting to feel quite warm.

I stuck it out at work that day, but then the next day couldn’t concentrate, and felt dizzy. I went home, where I developed a full-blown cough and runny nose, and what felt like a fever.

The next day I wasn’t feeling any better, and sounded worse (or, as one person described, ‘husky’). I’m reluctant to see doctors in Doha, for many reasons, but after a friend who lives in a different country started sounding rather concerned and suggested he call a doctor to come round to see me at my flat, I promised I’d go see a doctor the next day if I didn’t feel better.

I was, of course, hoping I’d wake up feeling like sunshine. But I didn’t, and after a long, warm bath that made me feel so dizzy I sprawled out on my bed in my towel, hoping my head would clear up, I realized I needed to go see a doctor.

Then I realized it was Friday, which meant all the clinics were closed, so I’d have to go to the emergency room. That was almost enough to make me not go at all, but I decided to go to what I think is the best hospital in Doha, which to me means the one that smells cleaner than the rest.

So after letting my cleaning lady in and fortifying myself with some chocolate, and packing a few snacks (I’ll never remember if it’s feed a cold or starve a fever. Generally when I’m sick I just want to eat), I set off for the hospital.

When the doctor came in to see me, she didn’t wash her hands or put on gloves. That always makes me nervous, because, if you know anything about hygiene, you’ll know that people can be rather efficient conveyors of germs, viruses, and other nastiness if they don’t wash their hands, and this is particularly a problem in hospitals where doctors and nurses are touching sick people and going from patient to patient.

I asked her to wash her hands or put on some gloves, and after explaining that, in addition to my not wanting to pick up any residual germs from other patients she might have seen, I also didn’t want to risk her getting whatever I had, or spreading it to other patients. I think that people find arguments more convincing when you point out what's in it for them. She tried to convince me that she wouldn't touch me, but I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to look as stubborn as I could manage while resisting the strong urge to curl up on the hospital bed. She was, in the end, reluctantly persuaded by this argument and put on some gloves.

This is why I don’t like going to see doctors in Doha, because just about every time I’ve gone to see one I’ve had to ask them to wash their hands or put on gloves. And I know it’s my right as a patient (and, I would argue, their duty as a doctor), but it never gets a medical visit off to a good start. And that was the case this time, as she was rather curt and not at all interested in any of my medical history, and briskly prescribed me with antibiotics.

It was only when the nurse came back to give me my prescription that I saw that the diagnosis was tonsillitis, which I thought rather important for me to know. I’ve had tonsillitis once before, also in Doha, soon after I moved here. Some doctors, it seems, don't seem to be bothered by germs or by your medical history. I was too tired and dizzy to argue again, or to ask her if I should be at all concerned this is my second diagnosis. I took my prescription and went to the pharmacy.