Friday, October 22, 2010

A Friend Goes to the Hospital

In September a friend of mine was drinking with his cousin and some other friends at the Texaco station in Melchor (border town with Belize). While they were sitting there, a blacked out car pulled up and opened fire on the group of them. One of the friends was killed, his cousin was hit in the arm and a 9mm bullet hit Luis in the neck, hitting below the chin on his left side and exiting on the right. He lost a lot of blood but before that could still walk. An ambulance "rushed" him the 1.5 hr trip to San Benito and their public hospital.

Luckily the bullet didn't hit anything important. He had surgery and afterwards could talk. He had difficulty swallowing but was told that was because of the swelling. I saw him the day after he was admitted. It was not my first time to the hospital, but I'd never been to the wards before.

I walked to the information desk even though it was 1pm and visiting hours aren't until 6-8pm. Luis told me on the phone, "They'll let you in. You're white." I told them I was there to visit Luis and what bed he was in. Not only did they let me go, the lady got up from her desk (with others in line behind me) and walked me past the police checkpoint and into his room in the Men's Surgery Wing where she pointed at him and left.

I say his room, but it actually belonged to six guys. They each had a worn out hospital bed with different sheets on them (the family is responsible for providing linens) and none of them had a gown on. They were all in various stages of dress with one guy in a long sleeved flannel shirt, jeans and his rubber boots. Luis was down to some barely on shorts. It was hot. There was no TV, no magazines, no air conditioning or even fans, not even any public health posters. Somebody had brought Luis a small desktop fan and his phone charger. He also had several bottles of water and a gatorade, but he couldn't swallow so it didn't do him much good.

I spoke with him for a few minutes sitting on the end of his bed (the chair for his guests was taken by the fan) but it was hard for him to talk because of the swelling. He took his bandages off and showed me the bullet holes before re-sticking them back on. It was actually hard to sit there because of the stink. I'm not sure whether it was him or one of the other 5 guys sweating and recovering from surgeries. I ribbed him about his choices in friends (the one who died was the target of this "cleanup") to which he replied, "Everybody has their problems."

This was on a Thursday and even though the doctor thought he would be ready to go on Saturday, he would have to wait until Monday when the doctor got back in town. Doctors take turns flying in from the city to work Monday-Friday in these free government run hospitals. On the weekends there is only one first year resident for the entire hospital. The highest rank in class gets to choose their location first and nobody wants to come to Petén so most hospitals here are run by your lower than average medical students on the weekends. They're not allowed to discharge very many people.

He was sent home Monday and has pretty much recovered. I told Shelley that I now have a list of 26 different emergency plans that rank above going to the general hospital. One of those is to let me slowly but mercifully bleed out (ok maybe not, but our Vet is truthfully #2 on the list.)

Even though I don't think there are very many privacy laws in Guatemala, my US conscience wouldn't let me take pictures. Instead, here's the scene of the shooting:

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