Exiting AZP

 

ACADEMISCH ZIEKENHUIS PARAMARIBO

The saga of Layne’s four days at the main hospital in Paramaribo, the capital of Suriname ought to be told now that she is back in our air bnb catching up on her sleep but I’m pretty tired of thinking about that place.

The funny thing was that the first three nights she got superb treatment medically from the doctors and proper care from the nurses in the ICU. Her blood pressure came up to normal from being low (80/40) and the blood oxygen percentage started well below 90% and soon came up to normal. When I was in the hospital in Miami they panicked when I went close to 90% and she was admitted at 83% and you should have seen them leap into action. 

The nursing staff did everything they could to keep her comfortable but beyond that they talked with her like real people and got to know each other. Suriname has a shortage of nurses (who doesn’t?) and they have been courting help in the Philippines among other countries. As a result I’ve had some cinnamon roll from the Philippines. You should try some if you get a chance, not too sweet and goes down a treat with some tea. 

The third day the ICU nurses kept her as long as they could and sent her upstairs at the last minute where she got a bed in a ward of six patients with no air conditioning and no nursing care. I was kicked out at six pm promptly but we were already talking about discharging her. She had an IV and a catheter but no monitoring of her vital signs anymore. 

On the morning of the fourth day I went in early bringing the usual supplies, diapers, pads, face cloths, bottled water and so forth. Nothing is provided by the hospital. Not even drinking water. I kid you not. That morning when I told the nurses Layne needed help they stared at me and made comments in Dutch about me not speaking Dutch but I have an ear for language and I knew what she was saying. That set me off and and I barked at her, the older nurse sitting at the nurses station writing in a file. I went back and changed Layne myself. Fuck them. 

Then I went on an odyssey to find the administrative office that had sent a letter to me handed to me by an ICU nurse, that of course couldn’t read and none of the nurses would translate for me. I had no clue where to go but I kept asking and after three false starts and an hour walking around I got to the office. 

The woman there said it was $900 a day ICU or general ward. I said where’s the bill and she shrugged. I said you don’t have an itemized bill? You expect me to be walking around in this credit card free economy with US$4000 in my pocket? And to hand it over to you without an invoice? Are you crazy? I’ll be back later I said and walked away. 

I went back to the ward and found  the doctor doing her rounds. I said I want Layne discharged. She protested. I said I’m paying nine hundred bucks a day to change her diapers myself? There’s no nursing care here, the nurses mock me for not being able to speak Dutch and I pay nine hundred US dollars a day for this treatment? No doctor has talked to me about her treatment and no one tells us what’s going on…I was in a towering rage. She said she’d go and speak to the specialist (who never showed up in person). Suddenly a nurse appeared and started cleaning Layne but the other women on the ward were applauding which was embarrassing. I never make a scene at a restaurant if I get the wrong order, I’ll just eat what I’m given but seeing Layne crying abandoned in her bed made me nuts. The catheter came out as did the IV and I got her dressed. Of course there was no wheel chair available to get her out.

Then the administrative person showed up. I said you want me to pay you in US dollars but you won’t communicate with me in English? No translation of your letter? Fine.  I’m paying in Suriname dollars. Work out the bill and give me a proper invoice like a real business. I gave her my email address and I’ve heard nothing more. Yet. So every day I go to the Republic Bank ATM and withdraw US$500 on each of our debit cards. Fucking crazy. I’m almost half way there to paying their bill. 40 Suriname to one US and the largest bill is $12 (below). $4000 in twelve dollar bills? Are you sure you want to live in a cash economy to evade the Federal Reserve? I have better things to do with my time. 

So I walked Layne slowly off the ward with goodbyes from the other five women patients. They told Layne (out of my hearing) she had a good man so I don’t want you to think I was demanding special treatment or trying to take nurses away from caring for others. I wanted them to put patients first and I’ve seen exhausted overworked nurses and there were none of them in that hospital of paper pushers sitting around chatting and laughing. 

Anyway that’s the whole story and Layne is now catching up on her sleep. What we do next isn’t clear. Her discharge papers are in Dutch of course so we will have to find a doctor and go from there. We have permission to be in Suriname till October 25th and similar for the apartment so we have time to rest and complete any treatment she may need. No hurry now that she is off the ward at Academy Hospital.

GANNET2 at home.

Update Thursday morning:

A private clinic. English spoken. They take Visa. It will probably cost the earth but I hope it’s worth it. 

Home Again

 The short version is that Layne is home and catching up on her sleep deficit in this comfortable well air conditioned apartment. Getting her out of the hospital was a long tedious day of arguing, running myself ragged and some split second timing. I’ll tell the story tomorrow as I am rather tired today and will limit myself to posting some random pictures of Paramaribo taken as I dashed around the capital city buying supplies and ferrying my wife and going shopping for food.

One kind of temple: 

And another kind of temple in this multiethnic society. 

Advertising in English:

The business heart of downtown, an actual city street rather than a grassy suburb. 

Casinos have been springing up downtown like toadstools, not the best sign of economic health it seems to me. 

My favorite grocery store, Tulip, full of familiar and unfamiliar brands and from the outside it looks like Florida to me though that may or may not be a good sign. It’s also true they take Visa, the only place in Suriname I have been able to use a credit card. Amazing.

Choi’s, the next best supermarket says it’s where shopping is a pleasure so I figure Tulip’s goes one up:

If you are ever in Paramaribo in need of sanitary supplies for your loved one Lin’s is the place to find them. Thought you might like to know…

When the atm at Republic Bank is out of service you’ll see a message telling you it’s in “Supervisor Mode.” That’s my favorite phrase now when something isn’t working. I say it’s in supervisor mode. Appropriate no? 

Thank you for your kind messages in this difficult time. 

Paramaribo

 After a few nights in ICU Layne is pretty much back to normal and she has been moved to a general ward where care is dreadful, classic third world indifference, six women to a room, no air conditioning and nursing staff that are more like prison wardens than care givers. It has become ugly.

I got a letter in Dutch from the hospital which I think is an angry demand for money to pay for ICU which gives me the impression people don’t pay their hospital bills as it’s all bold face and one sentence I translated said something to the effect there will be consequences. Pretty nasty stuff for a first request and there is no amount mentioned. Just weird. That’s on my plate today so I took my maximum $1,000 out of the ATM yesterday (500 on each of our debit cards) in this ridiculous credit card free society. 

As far as Layne goes her care is reduced to zero pretty much. My first move on the ward was to go to the nurses station when I arrived at four pm for visiting hours  and asked politely if anyone spoke English. The butch chief nurse looked away and said something to the others which I clearly, and to their horror, understood to be a remark to the effect that I was in a Dutch speaking country and better get with the program. To which I replied that nursing in other countries was an honored profession full of compassion but clearly wasn’t getting it here. Then the head bitch said in fluent English  I needed to take the letter to the administration offices downstairs tomorrow. No shit I had figured that much out  for myself. I was figuring it was time to go as this department was not for us. Laynes vital signs are such she is no longer attached to a machine measuring them.

It got worse. I prepared a sentence in Google translate saying lathe had had a bowel movement and went back to the nurses station to break up the party.  They read my phone and I went back to her bedside. Nothing happened. 

Five minutes passed and I went to protest and the line was that three nurses had forty patients and she’d have to wait. So I said let me ease your burden I  want to take her home where I can give her better care than you can  with your indifference. There had been five nurses sitting round the table talking and I know what harried overworked nurses look like. This lot did not look like that as I remembered from  my own time in the hospital, an experience which gave me the greatest respect for the toughest job in health care. Trust me these were nowhere close to nurses working at the limit of their capacities. 

Finally one showed up after they told me I couldn’t discharge her and said snarkily “Will you help?” The other patients in the ward were astonished to see me help clean Layne and by the end of visiting hours I had won them over and they promised to keep an eye out on her. I left her very reluctantly  but she had a fan from the van and they allow cell phones in this ward so I can communicate with her now. 

My plan is to pay the bill and take her home today so we will see what happens. My plans to fly to Europe are off obviously which as much as I hate flying is very upsetting but inevitable. Our next move is to get Layne rested and we have the apartment till the end of the month when our immigration permits expire so we have time. By the way photos aren’t allowed in the hospital so pictures today relate to the title as I drive around town hither and yon. Paramaribo (“para-marry-beau”) known locally as “Parbo” is a very spread out suburban kind of city, no high rises or clusters of office buildings as you can see.  Drive on the left and most drivers are pretty relaxed. 

The funny thing about the apartment is I had to move us out Monday because there was another renter. When Layne wasn’t feeling well in Guyana we left early and asked if we could add on ten days to our rental and the landlord said fine  but it was already rented  out Monday night so Layne found another pet friendly room for last night. Thus I wasn’t keen to get her out of the hospital on Monday but today we return to the apartment and Layne can settle in for as long as she needs.

Obviously I haven’t been to the mall in town but the most popular fast food place I’ve seen is this one all around Paramaribo. So as a change from hospitals I present “how to eat lunch with your fingers even if you don’t know how to order.”

Parking oddly hasn’t been much of a problem around Paramaribo and I stopped here to try the food. I had no idea how to order but I got help from the  guy at the back of the line when I asked my usual first question and luckily he wasn’t a nurse at the hospital  and he said yes, he spoke English, so I asked him to order for me as I had no clue. He was game and I bought his lunch which he ordered to go and I washed my hands at the sink in the dining room before I opened my break from a difficult day.

It cost about five bucks I think and looked like airline food with a packet of lethal hot sauce. There is no cutlery and you eat with your fingers. When in Rome…

I could not figure out how to eat the gravy without a spoon but there it is. Lamb was off my interpreter told me so I had chicken and it was good. The green beans and potatoes was my favorite part as I tore off pieces of naan and scooped stuff up. I had to change my shirt (and wash my hands again) after lunch. I looked around and saw other people using their left hands so I figured I was okay if I did too.  

Muslims use their left hands to wipe their backsides and recoil in horror when left handers like me forget their manners and pick up food with their left hands. This was not a one handed meal. I also noticed a sink when I went to buy Layne a mango smoothie on my way back to her cell. They are a common dining room accessory apparently.  

I did notice the city cemetery on my drives and I took a picture as I passed. Frankly it looks like an uninteresting jumbled mess. Perhaps that judgement is a reflection of my mood.

May you live in interesting times.