Yesterday I had to go to the doctor. For me, the only thing worse than going to a doctor in New York would be going to a doctor in a developing country.
As I have previously blogged, I don’t have health insurance. Knowing that I was leaving the US, I chose to take my chances because: a) I just don’t get sick very often. B) I have an enduringly strong constitution; c) I can rely on the good advice of the M.D. with whom I am living; d) I have health good luck and don’t get the stuff that other people get routinely, the colds, the bronchial infections, the flu.
But there I was in the office of Dr. Pierre Santos, general medicine and gynecology. I was surrounded by families with small children and pregnant women, most of them in traditional Senegalese dress. I was very obvious in my Capri pants and t-shirt, but I was focusing think on pain management and nothing else.
And I was in pain…lots of pain…and discomfort from the recurring gastro-intestinal problem that I afflicted me shortly after arriving in Senegal. My abdominal muscles were contracting repeatedly…pain on and pain off, pain on and pain off…for hours and hours. At times, I thought I would pass out. The experience confirms my choice to never bear a child. I am a chicken. I knew it when I was five and saw the bloody, howling birthing scene in the movie “Alaska.” The next day, I told my mom: "No kids for me!"
Dr. Santos is a compact, no-nonsense guy. He examined, diagnosed and wrote a prescription in about 10 minutes. He asked me to return next week. I was charged $35, and then I went to the pharmacy where five prescriptions cost another $35. I could not distinguish any difference between what I got in Dakar and what I would have gotten in New York. The treatment would have been the same. The only difference would have been the fee, which in NYC would have been five or six times what I paid.
In addition to feeling grateful for being restored to normalcy in a mere 24 hours, I am very aware that my $70 medical experience is out of reach for most Senegalese people. The affordable and accessible, high-quality care that we hope to deliver through the Hospital of Hope is essential. As Nathalie says, the imbalance between the developed and developing worlds can be positively affected by health care. I’m really glad to be a part of the effort to bring that care to Senegal.
What's amazing about this post is that it's both personal and political. Your personal experience of healthcare is bringing you a deeper and political understanding of the healthcare needs of the Senegalese. It's really quite powerful what you are doing to make this hospital a reality.
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