My First Belgian Hospital Experience - Chapter Cinq: The Call

Having been duly scanned and xrayed, I was directed back to the waiting room to sweat out the results, or, more appropriately, whatever lurked in the waiting room chairs. As I was walking back to the waiting room, I passed on an excellent opportunity to kick Lil' Lucifer, as he was standing on a chair, no parental figures in sight, when I rounded a corner by the xray department. The fact that I didn't, made me feel good about myself. Maybe I can be redeemed.

I settled into my chair, laying bets with myself as to how long the wait would actually take. Since I all of my prior hospital waiting experience has been in the US, I figured 4 hours would be a fair guess, even factoring in the time difference. A little over an hour later, the ER doc came to tell me that the scans were normal, but the head of neurology wanted to keep me overnight for "surveillance." I figured she meant "observation," but, then again, the receptionist may have narc'ed me out after all. Regardless, I had no intention of being surveilled or observed.

I called Dan to break the bad news. It went something like this:

Cindy: "Honey, I'm fine but they want to keep me overnight to make sure I don't throw up again."

Dan: "All of this could have been prevented! The first thing I'm doing when I get home is throw away those f-ing high heels. (Long pause, presumably when he realizes that he said that out loud and that he has yet to ask about me.) Are ou okay? Do you need me to come down there?"

Cindy: "I'm positive I don't need you to come down. (Short pause to let the irritation in my voice fully sink in.) I forgive you for yelling when I call to tell you that I am being admitted to the hospital. (Long pause to allow guilt to kick in.) Don't you dare touch my heels! (Click.)

(I bet ya'll can guess what the topic of our first counseling session will be!)

I went back to the doctor and told her that I really, really, really didn't want to stay overnight to be observed. When I promised her that I would not be alone and that I would return to the ER immediately if I threw up again, she agreed to call the neurologist and see if he would release me. I guess Belgium doesn't have a problem with hospitals milking health insurance --oh, wait, they wouldn't take my health insurance! -- since, the doctor released me.

Stay tuned for Chapter Six: The Bill.

© 2006 by Cindy Lane. All rights reserved.