My 1st Sunday back in Zim and I manage to twist my ankle falling down a very small step. It turns out that I have a fracture of my 5th Metatarsal head and I am now hopping around earning myself new nicknames; Hopper, Hip Hop, Hop it and even the Easter Bunny.
After being helped onto a sofa following my date with the step I iced my foot and contemplated going to one of Zimbabwe's Emergency Departments. I suddenly became rather anxious, Zim's healthcare system is not nearly as amazing as the good old NHS (can you believe I am saying that)?!
My choices were one of three possible options:
Option 1) Do nothing and self treat at home
Option 2) Go to the private hospital, pay $80 for a poor quality Xray film which I would have to order myself and then pay a lot more money for plastering, which I would also have to do myself. I know this because last time I took a patient to this hospital I ended up having to plaster them myself and they still charged me.
Option 3) Go to the government hospital because I although I gather it barely functions I have heard that the Xray quality is good and it is very cheap....
So, I went for- yes Option 3- The government hospital.
I should have been more prepared for what I saw- I work on the cholera outbreak after all....
When we arrived we struggled to find any Emergency Department as it was all contained within 3 cubicles. There was no triage system and I just hobbled to find someone who looked official. We found a lovely nurse who let me write my own X ray form (being a health care professional counts for something) and told us the radiographer was at home. We were given his phone number to find out if he was available. (Man this is something I wish the NHS would introduce- optional on calls). Crispin wasn't that thrilled at being disturbed on his Sunday evening. He explained that he could not get to the hospital and since the 'ambulance' was not around (? lack of fuel, driver, engine etc etc) we would have to pick him up. (Actually the NHS could really think about this as well- optional on calls with chauffeur service). Izzy and Oria, my trusty companions went to fetch Crispin from the other end of the city, leaving me to sit back and enjoy the ambience with another friend Lynne.
Mainly people just sat waiting. Waiting is something Zimbabwean's are good at. They have waited a long time for any sort of change in their lives. They wait in overnight queues for the bank and shops. They wait for schools to reopen. They wait for a new president. They wait for food. They wait for hope. They are still waiting.
These patients were waiting for Doctors of which there were none. It made me angry- the British government development department (DFID) pay their wages but they obviously have got into bad habits these last few years- or maybe the money is not getting through- absorbed my some higher official no doubt.
When Crispin the radiographer arrived I hopped after him until I realised the X ray department was on the 1st floor. What are the chances of the lift working? Not high....
With Oria's help I hopped up the stairs, one at a time exercising muscles I didn't know I had. I contemplated sitting down and shuffling up, but the smell of dead bodies coming from the basement was so overpowering that I thought perhaps the steps might not be that clean. The fridge departments in most mortuaries in Zim are overloaded and are often not functional. Zim has the lowest the life expectancy in the world (34) so I guess it isn't surprising the mortuaries are overloaded.
I got upstairs, had the xray, swore loadly when I put it on the light box- it's a classic fracture. I manouvered myself back down the stairs and sat waiting on my own while the others went off to pay for the very resonable xray.
As I sat there, this elderly lady who I had seen earlier pleading with a Dr going off shift for help (he forcefully declined, rejecting her cries), walked past me distraught. She looked at me and said 'we have been here all afternoon waiting for help for my son and there is no one to help us, so we have to leave'. I looked at the son, he looked SO ill. There was nothing I could do for him. It is very unfair and unjust. I only have a broken foot and if I were to be really ill I would be out of Zim and in some glitzy western hospital before most people get to see a doctor here. I am in the minority. 1.3 Billion people live without access to basic health care- that is 1 in 5 of the world's population. Something is very wrong with our world.
We left the hospital and I spent the next 2 days trying to track down crutches and a doctor to plaster my foot. I found the crutches (from a friend) and went for the bandage and sturdy shoe option. I'll be running around again in no time .
