In which our intrepid traveler, Bearshapedsphere, admits that it is not all rainbows and butterflies while on the road.
This is where my mother and I spent a couple of hours this morning. Well, not specifically in this ambulance, as we were able to make it there by taxi, but at this clinic, the Clinica Arequipa. We had hoped that our specific brands of illness (respiratory and gastrointestinal for one, pure gastrointestinal for the other) could be solved by a black-bag carrying house-call making doctor. Turns out there are no housecalls in Arequipa on Sundays.
So off we went to the “Emergencia” at the clinic. They led us down a hallway:
And led us into a little room, where the less ill of us took a moment to take a (blurry) self-portrait.
The other of us had X rays, and other non-photographable treatments (but we got to keep the nebulizing mask!)
In the end, there were medications prescribed (not all of them available at the clinic, strangely), treatments given, X rays taken, and several people who came in to poke, prod, ask, tell and otherwise attend to us. All very nice, save one woman who tried to kick us out after the nebulizer but before we got any of the other care we’d come for.
Greater travelers have had worse experiences, and have laid them all out for us in detail. We know our experience is not tragic, it is a small inconvenience, but are, of course, disappointed at the rest of our trip not going as we’d planned. We’re hunkered down, in pleasant enough surroundings, thanking the gods for the existence of Cipro, potable water, good clinics in Peru, and that old standby, saltines.
Life on the road is so glamourous, people. At least this time I didn’t have to throw up into a 2-liter bottle. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Clinica Arequipa, just over the Puente Grau, before the street turns into Ejercito. Note the beautiful views over the bridge on your way there, if you’re not too woozy.