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WHY SERBS DESERVE TO DIE OUT FROM THE WHITE PLAGUE* - Part I
Featuring Mama-Kangaroo and Papa-Kangaroo in the episode:
Before I became pregnant, I had no idea that my growing belly would also be serving me as a mail-bag. Thinking back about all the papers, forms, questionnaires and doctor's orders that I delivered to and from different health institutions, and the long queues that I waited in just to deliver them, I am sure I earned at least one-month of mailman's salary. As I was a First-Time-Pregnant-And-Elderly-Mother-Kangaroo, I was routinely sent to do an amniocentesis, accompanied by the advice: "Hurry! Hurry!" It turned out that the procedure needs to be scheduled even before one becomes pregnant, as the amniocentesis needs to be done around the 16th week of pregnancy. This is mainly because at any point the first available appointment in the hospital is often more than 16 weeks into the future. The reason for that can be found in the fact that "Institute for Mother and Child" in Belgrade is the only institution in the whole of Serbia that can do the procedure, and that the Institute gets only a limited amount of whatever-is-needed-for-the-procedure per month. So, whatever the number of whatever-is-needed they get, equals the number of amniocentesis' they can do. Everybody else will have to have it done in a private clinic. At "The Institute for Mother and Child" procedure is covered by health insurance. At the private clinics it costs hundreds of euros.** "Well, let's try the Institute first, then", said Papa-Kangaroo, whose pouch serves as a wallet. First time we hopped and bounced away to the Institute, just to be told that the scheduling is done only between that and that hour, and only on that and that day. The second time we hopped and bounced to the Institute on the said day and said time to schedule an appointment for the scheduling of an appointment to have the amniocentesis done. The third time we hopped and bounced our way to the Institute to finally schedule an appointment for the amniocentesis, at the previously scheduled appointment for such scheduling. Papa-Kangaroo is haaaaaaappyyyyy! We avoided horrible private clinic prices! Mama-Kangaroo's legs are hurting a bit from hopping and bouncing back and forth, and her nervous system is not doing very well after all that state-owned-monopoly maltreatment, but what can one do? The most important thing is that Papa-Kangaroo's pouch is still virgo intacta. I am to check into the hospital on a certain day between 6 and 8 pm. However, the plane that is bringing me back home from a business trip in the USA is late, and instead of landing at noon, it lands at 6pm. "You insane woman! We will miss the scheduled term! Private clinics will skin us out!" worries Papa-Kangaroo, while he is stepping on the gas to get to the hospital in time, cuddling his pouch-wallet at the same time. I am silent. What else can I do? I am guilty. I wanted to travel and explore the world, while I should have actually stayed at home and wait for the amniocentesis term that was scheduled by a lot of problematic appointment scheduling of scheduling. If we have to spend the money on a private clinic now, I can wave goodbye to an epidural later, unless Papa-Kangaroo turns into a criminal and robs a bank to find more money. That I have absolutely no intention of staying in the hospital that night - I dare not tell him! I will tell the hospital staff, once we arrive there. "Good evening", said I to the nurse on call. "Hrmpf", said she to me. "I have an amniocentesis scheduled for tonight, but I just landed half an hour ago, after 18 hours long journey, so would like, if at all possible, to postpone my check in until tomorrow morning", said Mama-Kangaroo, surviving the deadly glance of Papa-Kangaroo. "You need to figure that out with the doctor", said the Hrmpfette, while leading me into the doctor's office. "Good evening, the situation is like this and this, I would like that and that, is that possible?" I am explaining to the doctor. "It is possible, but only if I write you in as if you did check in tonight, though you are not going to be here until tomorrow morning. But, come tomorrow morning as early as possible." "Agreed!" Isn't he nice and full of understanding! Papa-Kangaroo is shocked. Not only because of my mad courage, but because I have more luck than wits. But, he is happy too. He's cuddling both me and his pouch. Me, because he missed me. The pouch, because he kept it intact. Tomorrow morning we are up before dawn, and hop and bounce our way to the Institute for the fifth time. We say our goodbyes, and I am then taken into the room with three beds, where one is occupied. Some girl from out of town has been lying there for 30 days already, because of I-can't-remember-what-anymore. There are no curtains on the windows, and there is a construction site just 50 meters away from the building. Construction workers are hanging from the construction scaffoldings, staring into the room. On the walls and on the floor cockroaches are marching up and down and back and forth. Suddenly, the doors of the room opens ajar and for a second I can see someone's nose behind it. I hear: "BREAKFAST!", followed by the door slamming shut. "C'mon, hurry up!", my room-mate is saying, putting her slippers on in panic. "I am not hungry, I will go later", I answer. "You better come right away, because those that arrive first get bread and tea, while later only tea is left. Bread gets eaten right away." I decide to skip the breakfast, and instead am munching on cookies I brought with me. Without tea. Few hours later, the door of the room opens again, and for a second I again see someone's nose, and I hear: "Stamenkovic, come!" BANG! "What was that?" I ask my room-mate. She has been sent to me from God, I think. She is the only one that understands the vocabulary and behavior of The White Coats.*** She has been there for a long time, so she has studied them in great detail. On the other hand, I feel like I have just landed from Mars. "They are calling you for amniocentesis! Hurry up! Doctors don't like when you are late!" I get out of the bed, put my slippers on, open the door and get out into the hall... The hall is empty. I look to the left. I look to the right. There's nobody anywhere. Where on earth am I to go now? Where is that damn amniocentesis? Where the hell did that Nose disappear, instead of showing me the way? After a few failed attempts, by sheer guesswork, I manage to find the right door. We do what needs to be done. They advice me to stay in bed. I ask them when can I go home, and they tell me that the first doctor's round is at 4pm, so I should ask them. I get back into my room where I continue to pose for construction workers and count cockroaches. Later on, doctor's round establishes that everything is all right. I ask them when I can go home. They tell me: "In three days." "Three days? Why, on earth, three days? In the West, a patient is sent home half an hour after amniocentesis!" "Well, just in case, you know. We don't want anything bad to happen. You have to lie still." "But, what can happen? You just told me everything is all right. Listen! I live nearby, I can be still in my own bed, and if something, God forbid, happens, I can be here in 7 minutes." "Please, don't. It's not the same. After all, conditions here are sterile, you know." "Sterile conditions? Don't you know you have cockroaches?" "Oh, well, we do know that... we keep killing them, but they keep coming back..." "You know what? I would really like to go home, nevertheless, so please, be so kind to discharge me." "You can leave only at your own risk, we cannot discharge you." "Where do I need to sign?" "DON'T... blah, blah, blah... DON'T... blah, blah, blah... DON'T... blah, blah, blah... DON'T... blah, blah, blah... DON'T... blah, blah, blah... DON'T... blah, blah, blah... DON'T... blah, blah, blah... DON'T... blah, blah, blah... DON'T... blah, blah, blah... DON'T... blah, blah, blah... DON'T... blah, blah, blah... DON'T... blah, blah, blah... DON'T... blah, blah, blah... DON'T...!" Goodness me, they sure are really trying their best to convince me to stay! Is it possible that they actually care and worry about me and my child? A few years later, I found out that their salaries depend on whether they accomplish a norm. And the norm depends on the number of hospital beds being occupied. Realizing that, everything became perfectly clear: By posing for the construction workers and counting cockroaches for three days, I was to increase their income. Isn't it nice when mysteries get solved in the end?
Footnotes:
* "White Plague" is a popular phrase used to
refer to low birth-rates.
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STORIES FROM MATERNITY WARDS Mama-Kangaroo 002
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