It was quite a long time since I've been here to write something new. Everytime, when I was trying to write a post, something or someone just showed up and took me away from my laptop. Everything was against me. And it took me two weeks to find a topic yet. Suprisingly, my dad and grandmother were those who unconsciously helped me.
A little while ago my father came back from his monthly stay in Northern Ireland. After almost two years of preparations (regular check-ups, special diet) he was ready to give his kidney to his own sister, so he spent some time in hospital in Belfast with her, before and after the transplantation. In the same time my grandfather was in hospital, but here, in Poland. When my dad was already with us, he shared some opinions about british and polish clinics with my grandmother who was visiting her husband everyday.
I was quite suprised when I heard something about a personnel in the hospital in which my father was. He said that he has made a lot of friends with doctors and nurses. He admitted that they had been always cheering him up when he had felt nervous about upcoming surgery. All the personnel was actually kind and talkative. A good conversation is something that my dad really appreciates. Some of the doctors was showing up in his room, just to check up if he was fine and also have a short talk. They were doing this, even if there was no need to check my father's condition. As my dad said "This is a place where you can feel that they really care about you. You're their patient, so for them, you're the most important person." Me, my grandma and the other members of my family, we were in shock. It is something unthinkable for us, that a hospital could be such a nice place. From my observations, my grandma's stories and even from my own experience, I can say that in polish hospitals you're not really able to feel that you mean a lot to a personnel.
When I was in a hospital for the last time because of my bad condition, I felt as if I was a nuissance for all the staff. I was less important than a trash. No really, when I asked for a help with my drip they told me to wait, because they had to empty the trash can in the medical office. And three nurses was doing that... My grandmother was always leaving upset the hospital after visiting my grandpa. Something that was making her really angry was that there was often noone that could help her with lifting her husband or with something else. She also admits that if she hasn't been there to feed him, my grandfather would eat a cold food or wouldn't eat at all.
Oh right, the food...It is very well known that meals in polish hospitals aren't very good. Well, "they are not good" is an understatement, beacuse in ours clinics you can't even tell what you eat. It looks as if they were putting everything what they have to a mixer and then, already mixed and cooked, they were serving on a plate. So in short-it looks like a newborn's poop. Quite disgusting. But my father said that in the hospital where he had been, the food was really good. And it doesn't happen often, I mean, my dad saying that something tastes good. Every single day, he was receiving a menu for the next day and he could chose what he wanted to eat! It's really shocking to me. One day he ordered something that "sounded good", but in fact he didn't understand the meaning. But still "sounded good." The next day they served him something else and said to him that what he had ordered was...for the toothless elders. I bet that here in Poland they would serve it to him anyway, because you eat what you has ordered.
I could tell some more and more stories and anecdotes, but it would be too long. My father keeps saying that when I will have an opportunity I should just run away from this country and do like my aunt and her family. Well, I'm considering it..
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