Doctors & Husbands…

I almost died walking round the shivuk supermarket on Wednesday. I was trying to get the shopping done asap so I could go home and crawl into bed when a very sweet employee saw Yaron asking for food and invited me to feed him in their cosy office.  I was touched by this, normally would have taken up her offer but I thought I was going to pass out so we grabbed our groceries and ran. I went straight to bed and found it a bit odd to be shivering in layers of clothing and blankets in 27 degree heat when it dawned on me that I may have a fever. Funny, when you dont have a winter, you assume you dont get ill. I have long blamed all illness on the weather (a habit learned from my israeli father who if you tell you have a cold/cough/throat infection/the black death will tell you “it’s ze change in ze wether”) so I just assumed I would be good for a while.

Anyway after 2 days of fevers and a throat so swollen I could barely eat I decided I would have to either see a doctor or sell my kids. They do say “Feed a cold, starve a fever” but nursing mums don’t have that option. So I dialled clalit,  our healthcare provider. After 4 months I thought I had figured out the totally random medical system here, but I was wrong.

“Press 4 for English”  (Ok that sounds promising, my brain is a bit woolly so if I can speak in English, then why not?)

Then I get this moronic woman who asked me each question about 25 times.  At first I thought it was me, feeling rough and not focusing.  But then I realised we were on a loop.

“Which doctor you want to see”

“Well I am not sure who my family doctor is,  I think its Doctor Svetlana.  But I havent seen her yet as we have only been her a few months.”

“Which doctor pleeze”

I repeated the above, but slower.

“It says here Dr Meor”

“Yes, but he’s a gynacologist, I dont need to see a gynacologist as I have had my baby now, I need a family doctor as I am sick.”

“Ok, are you prejence?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you prejence?”

[bear in mind I pressed 4 for English]

“Do you mean Am I pregnant?”

“Are you prejence?” she said again.

At this point I gave up and asked her “do you mean am I pregnant?” in hebrew.

“Yes – prejence”.  (The woman clearly had no ear at all.  I was starting to feel like Henry Higgins)

Oh for christs sake.  “No!!! I am no longer pregnant I need to see a doctor!”

“Ok, in ten minutes thats good for you?”

“Er, might need a few more than10 minutes.”

“No, its 13 and ten minutes”

“Oh right, yes thats perfect.”  (I think she meant 10 past one)

“In the kanyon.”

“What?? Why would I go there??? My local clinic is in Ramat Rabin!”

“But the gynacologist is there.”

Oh god.  Deep breaths.  Can’t yell it hurts too much.

“I don’t need a gynacologist!! I need to see a normal doctor.  In Ramat Rabin!”

“You need to call your clinic.”

COULD SHE NOT HAVE TOLD ME THAT AT THE BEGINNING??? AND SINCE WHEN DD THE RULES CHANGE??? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT APPOINTMENTS WITH FAMILY DOCTORS ARE MADE WITH LOCAL CLINIC??!

[By the way, if you have made it this far in my blog and you are not my mother, well done]

Anyway I called the clinic and of course they had no free apointments so told me to come and see the nurse at noon. I am pretty sure nurses are not allowed to prescribe drugs but figured she was some sort of screening system where if you are really ill she passes you onto some poor doctor who forfeits their lunchbreak.  (great system)

I was right.

Whilst waiting to see the nurse AND the doctor (turns out I still had a high fever on day 3 so she passed me along) I noticed another mother and little boy in the waiting room. After my last post I was informed by various family and friends that if you make aliyah, nits become a fact of life. The idea is to keep them down to a manageable level, as you can never totally eradicate them. From a distance, one might have thought that this mother was simply stroking her unwell sons hair lovingly, but I could see she was using the time to have a good old nitpick.  Anyway I felt really sorry for this poor kid as during his appointment with the doctor old look just in time to see him projectile for the second and third time. It was so bad even the doctor shrieked.  I was quite impressed at the mother, she just frogmarched her poor child to the nearest sink and cleared him up, no apology. Quite right, not her fault and definitely not his. A british mum would have been all “I’m so terribly sorry…” and looking around nervously.  In Israel, nobody justifies themselves.

The doctor, however was not so impressive.  (I did feel a bit bad for her as her shoes got splattered). She stood there, calling for someone to clean up the mess (it seems cleaning up puke is not on her job description) but of course everyone ignored her, eyes down, the nice older receptionist on the phone and the useless young one doing her usual thing of Looking Really Professional But Not Actually Doing Anything and even the smiling arab cleaning lady wasnt around) so what does the doctor do? Closes the door on the evil sick and MOVES OFFICES!!!

Lovely.

Anyway I almost lost my appointment to some woman who pushed in front pretending not to know I had got there first (I remember her walking in so there was no way she was before me) but experience has taught me that you have to jump up so I explained that I had a baby at home that would need feeding soon (a small lie as he could have coped a bit longer but I was about to collapse in a heap on the floor). Anyway the doc gave me an antibiotic prescription and told me to take acamol (israeli name for paracetemol) or optidrin (useless drug, doesnt seem to do anything but they love it here) and I somehow dragged myself home only when husband asked what was wrong with me I couldnt tell him as I had felt so awful I had forgotten to ask her for a diagnosis.

Anyway the antiobiotic she gave me is commonly given for tonsilitis so my hunch was right.  It’s a bit weird though, I haven’t had it in TWELVE YEARS, not since my gap year.  I have no idea why I would only get it in Israel?? I remember trotting off regularly to some doctor in the old binyan clal in jerusalem to tell him that once again my glands were up. He would prescribe me antibiotics and I would spend a week on my aunts sofa in bayit vagan watching the ice dance and sleeping 18 hours a day. On one occasion I must have been there a while as my Em Bayit rang up to enquire if I was planning on ever coming back to Orot (the girls college where I was studying in the middle of nowhere) and I told her I was sick. “But can’t you be sick here?” she asked, pleasantly. I told her in no uncertain terms that there was no way I was going to be ill in a room with no tv and no decent soup. I think she probably thought I was a bit not-in-the-spirit but I was past caring.

Of course Husband hasn’t been so sympathetic, as he has been a bit under the weather himself and not best pleased at being left with two kids and all the housework.  But now that my disease actually has A NAME I finally get some sympathy.

“Oh tonsilitis” he says.  “I had that when I was little.  It was AWFUL.  I was so miserable my mum went out and bought me comics and ice cream.”

“Great!” I said brightly, “so you can understand that Ifeel crap and need to rest and eat soup.”

“Oh but I was a kid then ” he says.  “I’m sure its not so bad when you are an adult.”

Oh for goodness sake what does a mum have to do around here to get some sympathy????????????????????????????

By the way, thank you to all those who called up worried that we might have been affected by the Carmel mountain fires. Thank god, we are fine.  Haven’t even smelt the smoke this time. But it’s a huge tragedy and the lack of rain in this country is becoming dangerous.  We have even gone so far as to join forces with our arab brothers and pray for rain. And institute a fast day.  So far not a drop.  Hard to imagine in snowy England.

We will keep you posted.