In the week between returning from Beijing and heading off for my road trip around the U.S., my knee did not seem to be recovering properly from the fall. At first, in Beijing, I fed myself a steady diet of Ibuprofen to reduce swelling and had a cold compress applied to my knee (something that I did not know- you're supposed to alternate having the cold compress on and off, not leave it on the entire time).
On the Tuesday after I returned from Beijing, my cousin suggested I should have it looked at- it had been about a week and the knee still looked swollen. And it just so happened to be my driving foot. Now, it just so happens that about this time, I did not have health insurance for one reason or another, so my cousin suggested checking out the free clinics of Houston.
Bright and early Wednesday morning, I call Casa de Amigos, located just on the outskirts of downtown Houston. I give 'em a ring at 8:10 AM (the website said the lines were open at 8 AM). I'm on hold. My family time plan is 400 anytime minutes a month and the minutes are ticking away. Fifteen minutes later, I get connected through. I ask if I could see a physician to look at my knee this week. They tell me the first available appointment is October 20th, about three weeks from now. I say I've got a road trip in a few days, is there anything else I can do? They tell me I could always come in for triage and I could possibly see a doctor that day. Except it was nearly 8:40 and if I went in now, I probably wouldn't be able to see a doctor today. The operator tells me I should get there as early as possible tomorrow- they open at 6:45 AM.
Thursday morning, I arrive at Casa de Amigos at 6 AM. There are no cars in the gated lot and there's one other car waiting on a side street for them to open. The area around the hospital is somewhat unsafe, but who would be up this early to do bad things? I had 45 minutes to go.
Around 6:30 AM, they open the gate to the parking lot and I make a go for it. I'm the second parked car, yet there is already a line at the entrance some ten people deep. Things don't look so good.
They let people into the clinic at 6:45 AM. We shuffle in and suddenly the line disappears- everyone save two in front of me move to another part of the clinic- I believe these were the people with appointments. So I'm third in line for the walk-in triage. Things are looking up. They ask if I have medicaid. They ask if I have any of the other available forms of insurance. I tell them, I don't have anything. This thought suddenly depresses me. They tell me to sit in the waiting area before they call on me.
I had brought my book. Hospitals and clinics are a depressing affair, but I suppose other than births, when are they not? A baby coughs in the waiting room and I suddenly think maybe I should hold my breath. Aren't hospitals where things spread pretty easily too? I haven't had chicken pox yet. This baby could kill me. There is a mosquito in the waiting room. I move my arm to swat it away and my arm brushes against my pants, unhinging the scab on my elbow from the fall. Gross. My mind wanders. I read my book.
It is now 7:30 AM. At 6:45, I was number three to be seen, now the waiting room is completely full.
I get called in after waiting an hour. The nurse puts me on a scale. 159 lbs, fully clothed and holding my novel. I'm really 155. I cracked 150 lbs in college. In the 7 years since, I've put 5 lbs on my gangly frame, those 5 lbs seemingly centered on my stomach and face for good measure.
I think maybe I am feeling better. Maybe I don't need this triage- what am I doing here? The nurse informs me that the visit to see the doctor today will be $76. That's not too bad. I tell her what happened to me in China. About the great fall. She looks at my leg.
She then tells me there would be no one available to see me today.
Wait, what? I was third in line! How could there be no one available? She tells me that a few of the doctors are out today, and if I needed an x-ray of some sort, I would have to try again another day. I'm slightly frustrated. "Since you didn't see a doctor, there will be no charge for today's visit." I suppose that's fine, but I want to see a doctor and get this knee thing checked out. I go to the receptionist's desk and they give me a list of alternate available clinics. It is 7:55 AM. I call in. No answer. 8 AM. No answer. 8:10 AM. No answer. No one wants to pick up that phone to see me. I go home and give up for the day.
Friday morning I call the San Jose clinic and ask if they can see me today. Saturday I would be shooting Melissa's cousin's wedding and Sunday morning I would be off on my road trip. The receptionist tells me yes, if I came in right now, they would be able to see me today. I drive up to the downtown location. I walk in.
The place is not that packed, so things were looking good. I go up to the counter. The receptionist asks me if I have any insurance, or a membership card with the clinic. A membership card? "Yes, it's free to register if you want one." Yes, please. Sign me up. "Unfortunately, the girl who does the registration cards is not in today. You will have to wait until Monday." Wait, what? Are you serious? What does it take to see a doctor if you don't have health insurance?
When I get home, I try one last place that San Jose Clinic had recommended to me before I left- Iba Sinar Foundation Community Medical Center. I call them around 9 AM and ask, if I come in today, will I be able to see a doctor? The receptionist tells me, yes, if I come in now, I can see a doctor today. It's not too far from home and it'll be my last attempt at seeing a doctor.
When I arrive, the waiting room is about 1/3 full. It seems manageable. I sign in at the receptionist desk and the girl working the desk is a pleasant Indian girl who was quite pleased to find out that I was also born in 1980, same as her. I have brought my book again and have made decent headway into it while waiting. 2 hours later, I get called in to see the physician.
The doctor, his eyes are strikingly blue. Unnaturally blue. They are like that of the hypnodog. I maintain eye contact with him hypnotically throughout the visit.
He examines my leg, tells me to walk around. He tells me I am getting sleepy, verrrry sleepy (ok, he doesn't). He tells me it's just swelling, no x-rays necessary. Nothing's broken, and there's not enough fluid in the knee to warrant any sort of soft tissue scan. Sometimes, he assures me, just a regular old examination is all you need.
We make some small talk- he is quite pleasant and upon hearing about my road trip, actually makes a highly useful recommendation for a place to see while out traveling America. It turns out to be one of my favorite spots once the trip is over.
On the way out, the bill comes out to $25. That's it. I find it to be ridiculously cheap seeing as to how the city of Houston clinics were running at $70 or so. $25 for peace of mind. A small price to pay, I'd say.
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