The Sound of Inevitability

My street is incredibly steep and covered with very slick cobbles.  I was walking to school, minding my own business, when my knee dislocated and I fell.  I pushed the bone back in place and picked myself up.  At this point, I would have gone on to school but noticed that I couldn’t really move my left arm.  Instead, I went home and called the insurance company to tell them I needed to see a doctor.  Since this is Georgia, I was told to call back at ten when they opened.  When I called back, they told me just to go straight to the hospital. 

I didn’t know where the hospital in Telavi was, so I had to ask Lika for help while walking there.  She got an increasingly worrisome string of texts from me that morning.

Where is the Telavi hospital?

What is the Georgian word for pain?

What is the Georgian word for emergency?

If you can avoid it at all, don’t go to the Telavi hospital.  Dangling wires, puddles of unidentified liquids on the floor, patients on gurneys hanging out in the hallways, no heat, no running water. 

This is the main entrance

This is the radiology room

When I finally found reception (mimgheba, in case you ever need to know), I called the insurance company again and then handed my phone to the ladies behind the desk.  They went and found what I have to assume was the only English-speaking doctor in the hospital. 

First, I had to have an x-ray.  I was too tall for the table, so the tech told me to kneel so my elbow would reach.  Just dislocated my knee; that’s not happening.  A tiny old lady with arms like solid iron bars casually tried to force my elbow into the position she wanted while chatting with the other patient in the room over my muffled, bitten-off screams.  For some reason, they both assumed I was a German tourist.  There were no lead aprons, no screens to stand behind while operating switches, nothing.  She even told me to stay in the room while she x-rayed the other lady’s chest.    

While the x-ray was being developed (or they all went out for a cha-cha break… I’m not too sure which), I waited out in the freezing cold hallways and watched the guy in the cast room ahead of me bleed all over the table.  The nurse wiped the table down with a rag and then called me in and told me to hop up.  I did so, praying that I didn’t have any scratched on my arm I was unaware of.  Doctor Zurab told me that I had broken my arm.  Yippee. 

The very latest in Ladies' Fashions

I am now casted from my palm to my bicep, in a really scratchy plaster cast with no padding at all.  Doctor Zurab demonstrated his pretty incredible English by warning me about muscle atrophy and range of motion loss.  He tried to demonstrate how best to manoeuvre with the cast, but kind of trailed off when he saw how easily I was putting my jumper on and grabbing my coat.  I’ve had a bit of practice with just one arm. 

I stopped on my way home to show Lika that all was ok, just a broken arm and a very sore knee.  No need to put ice on either; all I’ll have to do is pull the blankets off while sleeping tonight. 

The only thing I can’t seem to do with one arm is fix my own hair.  Ani loves this – she gets to brush and plait my hair for me every morning.  Yesterday, she decided to count all my grey hairs while she brushed.  Apparently, I have a lot of them.

Update: cast is off and arm is doing just fine.