Arequipa Public Health

Every two days Layne has to see a doctor to get her leg surgery checked. She’s not supposed to walk on it much at all so we are not wandering around doing interesting things. 

I walk Rusty, we sit and read, Layne with leg up, we cough in alternating barrages as we struggle to get over our head colds. What a pair of crocks we are.

It’s not actually not bad sitting in the sun with Rusty snoring in the tall grass heads in Kindles so we make the most of it, like CNN proper retirees. 

I am getting a little restless as my cold is giving way finally and I am starting to feel actively human again, so I’m planning a photo walk with my camera to spend some time not feeling completely stationary. 

It’s an odd thing about making a journey with a goal even with an open ended timeline in that the compulsion to move is always in my mind. I like being a nomad and I don’t like seeing GANNET2 gathering dust in a campground. But we’re in a good spot for what needs to be done. 

Yesterday we had to show up at the public hospital at 9am to have the surgeon inspect the site of the skin cancer removal. After a delay as we waited among the crowds of applicants for medical attention the surgeon cleared the wound and changed the gauze and pronounced it excellent. The pain has been far less post surgery than in past operations Layne has been through. 

But the public hospital - oh my. People line up outside some doors and crowds gather around others as though besieging them. The pressure in the staff is unsustainable and the stress shows. The staff are efficient, short tempered and firm in holding back the begging petitioners waving paperwork through the gaps in the doorways.  

It’s horrible to jump lines, to get picked out by the surgeon and watch the eyes follow your gringo back. It would be worse to have to join the petitioners as we just aren’t used to pleading for our lives. We’ve lived with decent health insurance, we have expectations even here in Peru where we paid cash, four months of minimum wage, for service. Want to know what it feels like to be the richest patient in the corridor? Come here for a check up. 

We have another appointment Wednesday for another check up, which may or may not be here or at a clinic. 

It was a relief to get to the sidewalk and wait for the Uber. I keep thinking about getting a terminal diagnosis here. It wouldn’t be like the attention I got at Jackson South in Miami with my city insurance. 

It may be a hospital but it is also an economic opportunity. 

I need to photograph something pretty for a change. In a week I fly to Miami. It will be interesting to photograph the Overseas Highway again. That will be a change.