I woke up quite abruptly Friday morning to our RA, Douglas, knocking on the door trying to collect our yellow fever vaccination cards. While that's all well and good, making sure we aren't going to contract a deadly fever, my gimpy ankle and I were in for an additional surprise when I was informed the nurse wanted to see us, us being myself and the gimpy ankle. Its like having an unwanted guest; I know it'll eventually go away, but in the meantime I can't go anywhere or do anything and I'm isolated from all activity because of this.
Annnnyway, the nurse checks me out, and decided I should go to hospital to get an x-ray. She also told me to bring a book because it could be awhile. Wonderful, on top of not liking hospitals AT ALL, I have to prepare to be stuck in one for an unknown duration of time. I hobble back to my house to get ready, grab my book as instructed and leave for the hospital.
My adventure in a Ghanaian hospital was more than enough culture shock for one day. While this hospital was not nearly as scary as American hospitals (no lingering scent of disinfectant and fear), it was still not a pleasant experience. I literally waited for an hour in one waiting room, only to be taken to an exam room to get my blood pressure and temperature taken (they put the thermometer in my armpit, which didn't take a good reading at first because I guess I have cold armpits). Then I got to wait in another waiting room to see the doctor. The second waiting room was nicer; there was a TV and a really cute baby waiting too. I finally get in to see the doctor...
Doctor: Welllll, look at you! You were playing football, eh?
Me: Oh no, I just tripped and fell at the beach, nothing fun like socc--(pause), football
Doctor: OH (chuckle chuckle), you just wearing football clothes. Well, lets get you an x-ray then, Sports Lady.
Two minute conversation and I was out. No one even looked at my ankle during this entire hospital ordeal. The only person to get close to it was the x-ray technician who readjusted my foot (Which was at a separate, medical imaging lab 10 minutes from the hospital because their x-ray was broken. Read: more waiting). I get my x-rays back, brought them back to the Doc who just said "No break! Let's get you some pain pills... maybe get some crutches too".
So a breakdown of my hospital trip (in percentage of time, +/- 3 approximately) if you got bored reading all that: 3 hours, 90% waiting in various waiting rooms, 10% with actual medical technicians, most of which was not with an actual MD. and this was a PRIVATE hospital. Apparently the public hospitals have lines starting at 5 AM for patients seeking care. Needless to say, my complaints about this hospital trip aren't even close to how bad most Ghanaians have it, and American's are whiny babies when it comes to our healthcare. BUT my blog is not about American politics (yet), so I'll continue with my tragic story.
I get home about 1:30, tired, no more mobile than when I left that morning. Though I was thinking "Not a day entirely wasted; I'll at least get to blog about my travel's through the Ghanian healthcare system". I hobble up the stairs to my bedroom to grab my computer. Only to find it not on my desk where I left it that morning. Huh. Maaaybe roomie put it in my closet (which doesn't lock even though it should). Nooooope. Panic slowly settles in. Where could my computer have gone? I wait about an hour before the sheer terror of possibly being the victim of theft settles in. I hobble over to the security guard to tell him it's been stolen, and we check things out around the house before I really start to freak out and call the program directors, who rush over and quickly call every staff member and the security company to investigate the disappearance of my new Macbook. Photos are snapped of my bedroom like a crime scene, one detective tells us not to touch the door handles or the power adapter (stupid, stupid thief- steal a computer and don't even bother to take the charger with you... that's $50 you aren't going to get when you try and resell it).
My poor little Mac is still MIA, the charger still sitting on the floor like a leash without a dog. I might get it back, I might not. I realized pretty quickly that this isn't the end of the world; it is just a thing (even if it's the only valuable thing I've ever really owned), and things are replaceable. I maybe be a pathetic mess right now being a temporary cripple and not having a computer to obsessively check Facebook, but I'm still alive. Everyone here's been very helpful in letting me borrow computers to Skype my parents, check email, write this blog (thank you Alana, I'll give your computer as soon as I'm done), and really supportive in "my time of need" (soooo overly dramatic yes, but I'm gonna milk this as much as I can). I'm still waiting to see if there's any information that comes up about how someone could have gotten into our house, and a police report is going to be filed for the computer.
I've gone through every emotion possible over the past two days; anger and stupidity that it was stolen when I was getting an x-ray I knew I didn't need, guilt that I was careless for not being vigilant in at least hiding it every time I left, sadness because now I can't get in touch with my family and friends as easily. So, I'll see what happens. Maybe my luck will turn around, karma will turn in my favor and the police will find it, or I'll be able to get a new one. Something good's gotta happen soon, but in the meantime if you'd like to donate to the "Get The Gimpy Obruni A New Computer Fund", you can send donations to: Caitlin Juetten, PO Box....
Hahaha, no donations please. Unless you really want to of course :)
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