Flying

Healthcare II (84)

You ever had a flying dream? I recently had the opportunity to do so in real life. The other day, I caught my toe on the heel of my other foot. And whooo did I fly. My landing could use some work though. First thing to hit was the back of my right hand (dominant, naturally). Smacked right on the cobblestones. Then my full weight landed on my hand. A nice twofer. The couple across the way and was concerned but were easily shaken off. Nothing more embarrassing than someone see you fall, is there?

It was pretty bad. We determined it likely wasn’t broken. Ok, I determined it wasn’t broken, Scott was still urging some sort of medical intervention. And therein lay the problem. It wasn’t bad enough to go to an emergency room and get triaged to sprained hand and wait hours. (That’s my experience in the US and I doubt a hospital here would be much different.) I’m not a patient person. I hate waiting hours. So I treated it at home. Of course, what I really needed was an urgent care. Portugal doesn’t have those. My other option was my doctor. The last time I went to make an appointment with her it was a 10 day wait. And this wrist didn’t need a doc – just an x-ray. So home treatment it was.

On top of this vet wrap I wore my carpal tunnel brace which immobilized everything. Pretty snifty, huh?

A week later, almost to the minute, I went for another flight. Practice makes perfect? And indeed, this one was a little more spectacular. We’re talking the full Superman – right arm out front and everything. (Note: Same cause, tripping on the back heel. I have since changed out the brand new orthotic insoles for the old ones and the tripping has stopped!) Two things of note: I was wearing a brace on that wrist with a metal piece. All my weight landed on the metal piece, distributing the shock fairly evenly. And it was in the Jardim do Principe Real – a busy area with two quiosques and a restaurant and – right in front of my runway – a daily outdoor market.  Immediately I was swamped by three American women bound and determined to Do Something for me. And a Portuguese man with little English was most worried and hurried over as well. Water was procured, I was seated on a bench, fussed over and the man recounted the flight for passersby. (“Like a bird!”) I realized I felt shockingly good, considering, and I just needed to shake loose of my well-wishers (joy of joys: as I rose from the bench I had the sudden realization that I had a rapt audience of market vendors).

This is where things got interesting. So far, my hand had been healing beautifully. Now, though, it started to go in the other direction. Was the fact that I was using it more because we were moving a factor? Could be, could be. Or that metal piece that saved me - perhaps the way that it ended up pressing into my palm messed things up in a fun, new way. Regardless, it stopped healing. Maybe it was even getting worse. Everyday was the guess of where new bruises would appear. Sometimes I could make a motion and there was no pain. Other times I make the same motion and have streaking pain from hand to elbow. Time for a hand doc.

I emailed our health coordinator¹ for a suggestion. They came back with: we can get you an prescription for an x-ray. Yay! If you send us a picture of your hands. ??? Sure, whatever. It’s better than waiting in an emergency room, right? A couple of days later, prescription procured, they even got me an appointment for the X-ray. And in not too many days. Definitely not the same as wandering into an urgent care clinic, but at least the waiting was at home.

A few weeks after the first flight….

On the appointed day I found the building (if you didn’t know the number, you would think this was one more apartment building) and managed to find registration. The woman behind the desk was trying to improve her English so we helped each other out. She also apologized profusely for having to charge me 17€ for the x-ray of both hands. The woman doing the x-ray had no English but I was able to learn the x-ray would not be read for six days. Thank heavens for translator apps. I told her I was worried it was broken. She said, again, translator app, it didn’t have a rush on it. Thanks, health coordinator company. But given what I said, she would put one on! Yay! It would be read in three days. Again, not exactly urgent care clinic. On the day, I got news: Auscência de sinais de lesões osteoarticulares, nomeadamente dos contornos e da estrutura. If only I knew what that news meant.

A week or more after my xray I stumbled into a way to determine the wait at the private hospital emergency department I would use. 13 minutes at that point. So much for my assumption that it would be hours.

Quite a bit of googling later, and I was feeling rather vindicated that it wasn’t broken. Ha! to the one of us who had been pro x-ray early on. And yet, it wasn’t right either. It really was time for that hand doc. I emailed our health coordinator company and asked for help finding a hand doctor. They emailed back with an appointment in seven days.  Not so shabby, eh? In that week, I packed boxes for our move that would happen very shortly after that appointment. By the time I got on the bus² a good half hour early to go to the appointment, it was feeling pretty good. So when it turned out I was going to be a half hour late, I just went ahead and cancelled the appointment (in general, it’s very easy to cancel appointments here - you do it online and give a reason. In my case: I’m trapped on a bus.) Since then my hand has just gotten better and better. Sure, it's weak. It’s been five weeks since the first injury so that makes sense. One thing’s for sure - in the future all flying will be in dreams! (I hope.)

Love from Lisbon,

Amy

1. We do have private health insurance. This is a company that is supposed to coordinate our health care. Sometimes it’s helpful.

2. I have a love/hate relationship with the Lisbon bus system. They are incredibly clean, comfortable, with a great view especially in the back that is raised. Many of the stops have signage that tells you how long till the next bus.

The first time I was ready to toss a bus in the river was when we were waiting for the bus that didn’t come after a lovely visit with friends. Since then, the reliability of the bus arrivals has proven intermittent.

Sometimes they are perfect, bang on. And often they have a sign at the stop that says how long till the next bus. Brilliant!

Other times though, like when I was headed to this doctor, it’s not. I was 30 minutes early. And I was 30 minutes late. Hm. Of course, that could be there was a strike going on. There are a lot of strikes here, but that’s another post. Regardless, we have found the Metro to be highly reliable, considering. That’s why we wanted a home with access to the Metro.