Mysterious World of A Clinic

I’ve been unwell for almost 1 month, have had fever on and off and felt tired all the time. Then 1 week ago I started coughing, really coughing that could go 3 minutes nonstop, and it was so awful until one day my boyfriend was fed up and forced me to go to the doctor to see what’s wrong with me.

“Go!” he told me. “You’ve been complaining all month, feeling tired and not 100%. You should see what’s wrong with you!”

You see I don’t like to go to doctors. In my 31 years old experience, I can count with only both hands, how many times I actually go to the doctor. I rarely go to hospitals, except having a medical checkup every year. I have no experience whatsoever dealing with nurses, doctors, and hospital administration.

It’s not because I’m incredibly strong and healthy; but because my dad is my family doctor! He’s been taking care of me since I was born (literally- he’s the doctor when my mom delivered me to this world!). And even if I had to go to the hospital (for dental appointment, for example), the ‘magic door’ is always open and I don’t have to queue and pay since my dad had taken care of it.

I’ve got that treatment when I still lived under the same roof with my parents. Now I’m 31 years old and living far from my dad, I have to deal with it myself. And everytime I’m sick, I don’t want to let my dad know about it, because he’s gonna send me a prescription and call me every day to make sure I have a good rest and take the medicine regularly (in other words: I’m back to be 5 years old again). But to go the hospital or clinic is a mystery for me either. I’m not familiar with it.

This time I had no choice. I felt so awful I had to take a day off from office. I sensed that my illness was more serious than I thought, because even after having a weekend off, I wasn’t getting better. So I went to this clinic with international reputation. Nice atmosphere, friendly staffs, and I even heard one doctor speaking Japanese with his patient. Impressive.

After 30 minutes the lady who’s dressed as a nurse asked me to get inside the room, but wait! Where’s the doctor? Oh, the doctor’s in the different room, and I wasn’t going to be examined here. This is the room where I’m having my weight, height, pulse, systolic/diastolic checked.

After seriously putting my stats, she hushed me back to the waiting room. Ten minutes later the doctor called me in, and I was in her room. After listening to my complaints, she diagnosed me with either: a) dengue, b) hepatitis, or c)typhoid. Hence, I must have my blood checked.

I went panic and called up my dad. He answered, very quitely saying he’s still in the meeting and will call me back. Damn. Just when I needed him most.

I gave my blood sample to a nurse, and waited for my blood checked result for one hour.

When I went back to the clinic the doctor showed me the list that is full with jargons and words I don’t understand. After 10 minutes explaining every single detail blood check result with more even confusing terms, she told me that fortunately I didn’t have 3 big diseases she mentioned before. But she suspected me having a TBC. Despite my obvious symptom (hellloooo…. constant coughing!!), she still had to make sure, so I had to have my chest rontgen.

15 minutes later she announced her final diagnose: I have bronchitis. She wrote me a prescription, and told me to go back for another rontgen after 2 weeks.

My dad called me 4 o’clock in the afternoon after his meeting, and laughed when I told him about my experience.

“Bronchitis?” he said. “Naaah, you’re ok. You’re fine, it’s just common disease. What did the doctor give you? Wow… very expensive tablets.”

Tell me about it dad. I almost passed out when paying my bill! (see, I never know how expensive it is, since I never pay!)

I’m still recovering now. My dad was here last night, and we went to my uncle’s place, who is a doctor himself. Both of them read my lab result, looked at each other, and smiled at me.

“You’ll be fine,” my uncle said.

“You’ll be fine,” my dad said.

Ok then.

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