What you don't know won't hurt you

Especially when knowing won't really make a difference.

About a month ago I went home from work feverish and weak. I took a quick shower to cool down. Had orange juice and a banana and then told Patty I'd just take a short nap.

By midnight I already had a sore throat. And the sniffles. And a bum stomach.

I was sick. Clearly. With all the tell tale signs of the flu.

The obvious question came to mind: Was this the dreaded A H1N1 flu?

Patty was understandably concerned. Media after all constantly told us that the disease was more dangerous for those with pre-existing conditions like diabetes (me), the young (Gabi and Bela) and the old (not me).

So she quickly separated me from Gabi and Bela. She gave me paracetamol for my fever, lozenges for my sore throat and lots of orange juice for my bum stomach.

First thing the following day, she brought me to the hospital emergency room.

The guard was obviously given strict instructions on how to deal with coughing and sneezing incoming patients. He didn't allow us entry and instead curtly pointed us to a solitary desk under a makeshift tent situated nearer the driveway and farther away from the hospital entrance.

Quickly donning a surgical mask, the male nurse greeted us with a blank stare, motioning for me to sit on the lone plastic chair conveniently placed a good foot away from the desk.

A barrage of questions ensued.

"Cold and cough?"

Yes.

Body aches?"

Yes.

"Sore throat?"

Yes.

"Diarrhea?"

No.

"Vomiting?"

No.

Then my temperature was taken.

"No fever," the verdict was read by the obviously relieved nurse who then scribbled his findings on a piece of paper which he then handed to me.

We were told to go to the Out Patient Department. We were now worthy enough to enter the hospital.

And so there in the OPD we had myself listed and waited for my turn. Which came almost an hour later. If I wasn't sick earlier I certainly was now after being made to toil in that hot, crowded, muggy waiting room.

The young doctor asked the same questions.

"Cold and cough?"

Yes.

Body aches?"

Yes.

"Sore throat?"

Yes.

"Diarrhea?"

No.

"Vomiting?"

No.

Again my temperature was taken. Again, no fever.

The doctor took out his prescription pad and jotted down "paracetamol" for my aches, "lozenges" for my sore throat and "lots of liquids" to prevent dehydration.

"That's it?" Patty asked.

"How do we know it's not swine flu?" she could not restrain herself anymore.

"Oh you'd have to go to RITM or East Ave to find out. We don't have the test facilities here."

Great. We spent more than an hour in the hospital only to be prescribed what we were already doing: paracetamol, lozenges and lots of liquids.

And no way was I going to waste another hour or so in another hospital just to be tested for a disease that was easily treatable. What good would that do? I already felt discriminated against just because I had flu symptoms. How more would I be treated if the test indeed confirmed I had swine flu?

Patty was already doing everything right. My flu was being treated. The kids were kept away and were given larger doses of vitamins.

We were not being irresponsible.

There was no more need to know.

Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

Q: Why are doctors' clients called "patients"?

A: Because that's what we all have to be in order to endure the looooong wait outside their clinics!

Grrr...

I have been to three doctors' clinics at least seven times in the last four weeks. Four times to Patty's OB-GYN in Medical City. A couple of appointments with Gabi's pedia and opthalmologist in St. Lukes. And today to my cardiologist/ endocrinologist/ business partner and friend in Cardinal Santos.

And without exception, I've had to endure waits of no less than 45 minutes at a time. Sometimes even longer.

And it is not a pleasant experience.

I've long learned to block off the entire morning or the entire afternoon when I have a doctor's appointment. Patty taught me how to manage the long wait. She goes to the clinic early, signing up even before the doctor shows up, leaves her number and then heads to the nearest food stall to grab a bite and wait for the clinic secretary's text summons.

We get our sms notification when there are just two patients ahead of us. Enough time to negotiate the long queues to the elevator and get back to the clinic. But then we still have to wait.

The challenge now is how to fight off boredom. And irritation. And try as much as possible to remain productive. Or at least preserve sanity.

I've tried bringing a book or two. It didn't work. Reading is supposed to be relaxing, a luxury one looks forward to. Being in the company of other impatient patients is definitely not conducive to relaxing.

Once in a while, I find myself just just observing the faces of the waiting crowd. I particularly like observing the hordes of med reps who wait in doctors' clinics the whole day. Every day! Imagine that: waiting is their profession!

Today I am trying something new. Now I write this blog as I continue to wait. Writing on my notebook with my pen.

I'll bring my laptop and weRoam card next time. So I can post on the fly.

Wow, I don't believe it. I am actually looking forward to the next doctor's appointment.

Now it is I who can't wait.