Adventures in Germ Land!

Well, it's been an iffy week for my stomach, which was to be expected somewhat. I had just about convinced myself that I had somehow beat the odds in being afflicted with the classic case of GI Tango for Travelers... but my good fortune ran out Thursday morning. I've spent the last two days lounging in bed, keeping myself a safe, close distance to the facilities. In contrast to my food poisoning ordeal just before my trip, this has been a walk in the park, so part of me feels kind of silly for having holed up for two days. This morning I finally agreed that maybe it would be a good idea to check in with the local diagnostic lab and make sure I wasn't in for any nasty surprises over the weekend. If nothing else, it certainly provided me with an experience. Since I wasn't capable of focusing on learning any new grammatical rules, my teacher accompanied me to help with navigating the way to the clinic and the conversations at the clinic - both of which I was immensely grateful for.

Step 1: Stand in line with the 30 other folks who got to the clinic at opening time to pay for whatever service you are there for. This takes about an hour or so, even once they open up a second line. While waiting oogle cute (but not feeling well) babies and very tired mamas. Puzzle over the strange cartoon program playing on the old TV in the corner of the waiting room that seems to be about STIs, but is maybe just specifically about syphilis or HIV. Main character is a muddy-brown cartoon germ-sergeant in charge of an army of pink and green germ berets. Cartoon looks like it's from the late 70's/early 80's and keeps featuring outlines of the universal symbols for a man and woman with various flashing red X's over their genital areas.

Step 2: pay Q16 (~$2.25) for lab order slip

Step 3: go to the lab to receive your sample collection vessel, marked with your ID number written on masking tape (it's one of those little plastic containers you get extra duck sauce in when you order chinese take out)

Step 4: sample collection. The bathroom didn't have any toilet paper in it, or soap. I alerted my teacher to the first problem and the receptionist at the collection window was empathetic but unhelpful in rectifying the situation. She seemed rather resigned to the fact that there was no toilet paper available. Sorry. My teacher told me to wait and disappeared for a few minutes, returning with a covertly smuggled fresh roll. I figured soap was completely out of the question. Best 99 cents I ever spent: pocket-sized bottle of hand sanitizer. I don't care if I have to go back to Walmart and pad their pockets more while I'm here, I will find a refill for that baby when it runs dry.

Step 5: return in an hour and a half for results. I had no idea what to do with the roll of toilet paper my teacher had so gallantly procured for me. I tried to ask her if it needed to go back somewhere, or if I should leave it in the bathroom. We must have totally mis-communicated. She seemed to indicate that I should tuck it away on my person, so I wound up bringing it home, although I had no good reason to do so. It's not that it won't get used, it's just that it would have been so much more appreciated in the clinic bathroom.

Step 6: arrive back at clinic for results. Wait another hour. Marvel that, because a lot of clinical vocabulary derives from Latin, and Spanish is a Romance language that also derived from Latin, an awful lot of terms are extremely similar. Be intrigued that the full clinical term for a Pap Smear (Papanicolaou) is spelled out every time, and be amused that it takes you 15 minutes to figure out/remember what a Papanicolaou is.

Step 7: read results and be relieved that you are negative for parasites and amoebas. Yay!