Poor John and his poor foot in Cuba

The emergency room had bed for about four people

We’re back in Australia for a bit, so Poor John went to the doctor yesterday to make sure all is okay with his right foot.

Just a few days ago, he thought everything was fine but, on the flight home from the Americas, he felt some unusual twinges in the ‘offending’ foot, so booked a follow-up appointment (more about those results below).

If you follow this blog, you’ll know that about a month ago, his foot was hit with excruciating pain. He managed to limp to the bus station in Playa Giron, and we set out for Cienfuegos, where he was urged to get it checked out.

The person who egged him on (besides me) was the hostess at our homestay. Elodia is an endocrinologist and works at the main hospital in Cienfuegos.

After inspecting his foot, she said, It’s gout. Go to the International Clinic and get them to check it out. They’ll be able to help. So after breakfast we flagged down one of those fancy taxis and headed to the clinic.

Sights we saw on the way to the clinic

Over our many years of travel, we’ve had some experience with medical clinics and this was probably one of the most basic. For starters, the entire office was being renovated (lots of ladders and workmen) and we snaked our way through the mess to the exam room.

The news wasn’t good.

Yes, it seemed like it might be gout, but they couldn’t/wouldn’t diagnose without a blood test. A test could be booked for the next morning, and results might take awhile because the sample would have to be sent to the hospital. And even if it was diagnosed as gout, the clinic didn’t have the medicine on hand. That would have to come from the hospital, too.

Such a lot of to-ing and fro-ing. While we could have returned the next day for a blood test, we couldn’t afford to wait for an unknown number of days for results and medication. Never mind, we said, we’ll figure it out as we go along.

After this not very promising news, we headed back our homestay.

We didn’t see our hostess again until the next morning at breakfast. She was most dismayed to learn the clinic couldn’t help. She inspected Poor John’s foot again and said, You must go to emergency. I’ll meet you there later. First finish your breakfast. And she whizzed out the door.

Elodia has excellent English, but her husband speaks only Spanish. So when it came time for us to catch transport to the hospital, we recruited him for assistance. Sadly, no fancy taxis were cruising the area, so he flagged down a passing horse cart.

Ambulance Cuban-style

My Spanish isn’t very good, but I knew he negotiated a trip to the hospital for 2 CUCs (or about US$1 each). So off we clipped and clopped. When we arrived at the hospital, the fellow wanted an extra CUC because the horse had had to go uphill the last two blocks.

Okay, I’ll be honest here. I think that’s what he said, but I can’t be sure.

I countered with—in English—you made a deal at the outset and knew where we were going. The horse might not have known there were two blocks uphill, but you did. And gave him just 2 CUCS and he didn’t argue.

And then we (well Poor John) hobbled into the hospital. The place was packed and I couldn’t see a single sign pointing to emergency. I started asking about emergencia, but no one reacted.

Then a teenager hobbled in with her mum. She obviously needs emergency, I said to Poor John, let’s follow them. The girl hobbled to the elevator, which wasn’t working, and then struggled up the stairs. Poor John did the same.

On the next floor, everyone seemed to hover around one window, so I told Poor John to stay put while I investigated.

Sometimes it helps being a ditzy-looking, non-Spanish speaking, wild-haired woman. I muscled my way up to the glass window where a woman seemed to be taking requests.

After a few minutes, she acknowledged me, and I think I said in broken Spanish, my husband is sick. She asked a question, which I didn’t understand, but I said Si anyway.

We were ushered straight into a room with a vat for mixing plaster of paris. That’s when it dawned on us that we were in the Broken Bone Department.

Oh crap, I said elegantly and, about that time, Elodia appeared, scolding us for not coming to emergency (urgencia) at the back of the hospital. Geez, I never once thought of urgent or urgencia as the word to look for. And if our horse cart driver had been told to take us to the back entrance, he ignored the request because it would have been yet another block uphill.

It turned out that emergency was waiting for us. Doctors and nurses (one gal spoke English) set upon Poor John almost immediately. In the end, he answered heaps of questions, had various blood tests and an x-ray.

Cuba is known for the high quality of their doctors. The country may suffer huge sanctions by the USA, but they send their hugely qualified doctors all over the world.

At the hospital, Poor John had excellent care and dedicated attention. The emergency room was amongst the most basic I’ve ever seen, but it was also spotless. The doctors, who were often accompanied by students (the sign of a teaching hospital), were conscientious and professional. The students were attentive.

Going to hospital

Emergency

After some hours, the results came back. His uric acid levels were okay, so no gout.

The questions continued. When did you break your foot? Never. So it’s got to be an infection and here are scripts for powerful antibiotics. Take them for eight days.

We were definitely puzzled. There was no break in the skin, so how could he have an infection. Nevertheless, we paid the bill (165 CUCs) and headed out with the prescriptions.

I can’t remember how we got back to the homestay, but Poor John decided to rest his foot while I did a city walk with Elodia. You can see some of the highlights here.

The end result
Poor John took two kinds of antibiotics for eight days. Over time and after leaving Cuba, the ‘infection’ subsided, but we both wondered why the antibiotics were so slow to make a difference. He had a few more twinges during our 19 days on a cruise, but mostly everything was fine.

So what about his appointment yesterday?

Many people consider Dr Kingston to be one of Canberra’s best GP diagnosticians. Her opinion, and I think she’s right, was—It was gout. Just because your uric acid levels are normal doesn’t mean a thing. You can still have gout.

The big downside in all this was that he got the wrong meds from the outset. No wonder it took so long for the antibiotics to ‘kick in’.

The pedestrian shopping street in Cienfuegos