The Slovak Emergency Room

If you don't believe the icewalks can be dangerous, listen to my experience.

While leaving a restaurant with another teacher, he slipped on the ice and hit his head.

"Get up", I say, and as he does, the pool of blood coming from the back of his head is clearly visible on the white ice.

So I change my mind, "Lay back down!" and he does, and now I have to wonder to myself, what should I do? I inspect the wound and see a gash on the back of his head the size of half my fist. As he tries to sit up again the blood streams down his face, around his eyes, into his mouth and onto his shirt. I cradled his head from the ice and they too were solid bloody red. (Don't worry; we took AIDS tests to work here.)

He's lying in the street so I can't vary well leave him, yet I know I need to call someone. He's starting to shiver and chatter his teeth, either from shock or the cold (and it is cold, maybe only 15 degrees/ -9). And to my rescue a city vehicle stops and two men get out with cell phones and call for help. Who says you need to know Slovak. You really only need to be very bloody and lying in the road.

So I get my first ride in an ambulance and a free trip to the emergency room.

The stretcher has wheels the size of a bicycle, and they are anything but gentle as they move him about. It's Saturday morning and we are the only people there. No waiting rooms or delays. I'm in charge of paperwork, which is in English but still doesn't make much sense. It consists of one page, which says the name of the patient, passport number, town of residence, and an agreement to pay, though it doesn’t say how much.

Maybe the lack of paperwork lets them give stitches without anesthetic, or keep you for three days even though the MRI and X-rays are all fine. Or only feed you bread and water for a day and a half. Who knows, I couldn’t talk to them, and the people I called to help from the school hadn’t arrived yet.

So, three days for a concussion. He thought it was great. His roommate had been there for three months because of a car accident. They were going to keep him for three more. No outpatient services, no recovery ward or nursing home, just the same drab hospital room with bad food, limited visiting hours and no TV.

It can always be worse. And I’m glad it didn’t happen to me (knock on wood).

But I do still feel like Lady Macbeth with her bloody hands that she never could quite get clean. "Out, damned spot! Out, I say!"