the poliklinika

For those of you living on this side of the ocean, my morning will seem very normal to you. However, as I was leaving the poliklinika in our little town this morning, it dawned on me, that for those on the other side of the ocean, it might be of interest.

Two weeks ago, I took Gabe and Alex to their 18 month doctor's appointment. Both boys were supposed to get a vaccination. However, Gabe was a bit congested, so the doctor did not want to give him his vaccination. I was to come back in a week. So, Gabe and I went to the doctor last week, without a translator. I figured if he's just getting a shot, I can manage. Well. The doctor still didn't want to give him the vaccination last week and told me to come back this morning. She kept pointing to her arm, so while I thought it was a little strange where she was pointing, I assumed we were coming back to get his vaccination.

So, I snuck into the boys' room at 6:40am and grabbed Gabe, trying not to wake up Alex. I got Gabe's jacket, hat, and coat on him in his groggy state (he's like his momma, not a morning person). Gabe and I rushed out the door to make it to the doctor at 7:00, which is what was written on my little piece of paper that the nurse gave me last week.

Last week, the doctor also asked me to have a friend on stand-by that I could call to translate. Thankfully, I understood that correctly, and my dear friend, Danca, was prepared for a phone call early this morning.

We arrived at the doctor's office, and as the doctor was "prepping", I called Danca. After the doctor and Danca talked, Danca explained to me that Gabe was not getting a vaccination, instead, the doctor wanted to take his blood. Boy am I glad I had someone translate that; I would have been a little surprised. The doctor wanted to see if Gabe had a respiratory infection and also wanted his blood tested for allergies.

Well. My boy was a little trooper. While he did not enjoy getting his blood drawn, at all, he didn't cry. And, it is not an easy process, they let the blood drip into this little vile. It took awhile. Afterward, Gabe was totally fine. He and I waited in the waiting room for the results, and though I wasn't sure if he'd want to go back into the doctor's office, he marched right back in there smiling, "Hi! Hi! Hi!"

Here's the part that might be of the most interest. The doctor explained to me (through my friend Danca) that I was to take this little envelop that contained Gabe's blood to a poliklinika where the blood could be tested. Yep. That's right. I took the blood, myself. (I have actually done this before several times while I was pregnant with the boys--take my own blood to the lab, but have never written about it.) So into my purse went Gabe's blood.

Then, I drove back to my little town of Frydlant and found my way to the poliklinika. I went inside the building, up some steps, and knocked on a door that says bio something, something, in Czech. A woman in white pants and "inside shoes" answered the door. I handed her my son's blood. She asked me what I later realized was--did you pay for this in Frydek? I answered, "Gabriel is my son." She just smiled gracefully and repeated the question in another way. I called another friend to translate, and I managed to hand deliver my sons blood to the poliklinika and to pay the 74kcs to have it tested (about $4). Just another day in the Czech Republic.
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Please note: Most of this post was actually written a week ago, but I didn't have time to finish the post that day. It seems kind of trite considering the election in the US. I actually would love to write a post on that, but I feel a little uneducated. All morning I have been reading blog posts from others more educated than myself in regard to politics and even Kingdom theology. I just wanted to at least mention that my brain is engaged in other things besides trying to figure out how to get my son tested for allergies.