I recently had to go to the doctor to inspect a suspicious looking mole. It had gotten a bit red and raised, so I wanted it checked for melanoma and then removed so I didn't have to worry about it further. Not knowing any dermatologists in town, and not having a convenient list of 'approved' local doctors on the international health plan website (it still thinks we're in P'town), I made several searches online for penang + dermatologist + doctor. A variety of skin clinics popped up, as well as people's personal horror stories about acne and skin whitening. But I wanted a doctor that was a self-described dermatologist, not just someone who treats acne or is more into cosmetic treatments. I finally found the right doctor at a nearby hospital, and called to make an appointment with her. And thus began my lesson in the ways of local medicine.
First, no doctors makes appointments. Even for follow-ups. Perhaps the doctors know that too many people would not bother to show up, or they would arrive too late and then still demand to be seen. Either way, it's first come first served. Get your butt in the door at the crack of dawn, stampede to the ticket machine, and push your way to a low number. Then register for the doctor you want to see sometime that day. Be pointed in the right direction. Be prepared to wait for hours.
Second, signs are for idiots. When you finally find the right clinic, you're supposed to just kind of wander around and stare at what others are doing until you realize you just have to wait some more until your 'file' (little more than your name and nationality) is processed and you are handed another number from a nurse behind Door Number 1. Those who aren't also wandering around have been through this before and are secretly laughing behind their hands at the zombie-eyed newbies. Or they are egotistical enough to just start banging on Door Number 1, 2 and 3 until someone comes out and explains the process. Thankfully the nurse usually seems to also say, "No, you can't jump the line. Sit your butt down."And start waiting for hours.
Third, paying before any procedure ensures that you won't try to skip out the back door without laying down your Ringitt. This makes a lot of sense to me, and I was very interested in the itemized list of exactly what I would be paying for to have my mole removed... 2 disposable face masks (3 ply): RM1.60; injection of Xylocaine (2%): RM 8.50; 2 pair gloves (non powder): RM 4; waterproof bandage (medium): RM2; etc. Here's a system that makes people and their disorders behave properly. Keep the bleeders to yourself or you'll have to buy more gauze and band aids. Don't drop that surgical mask or the patient may fight you on who has to purchase the extra one. Actually, my treatment was very reasonably priced and I was happy to pay for those masks and bandages. Keep those germs away from me, thank you! I should have thought to purchase an extra set to take home because face masks can be quite trendy and non-powder gloves are handy (ha-ha) when slicing hot chilies.
Lastly, the whole process was blissfully short on paperwork. I only signed one form giving permission for my mole removal and only had to look at one document confirming that my name and address were correct. I had a real, in person, verbal conversation with the doctor about my family history (yes, unfortunately cancer has occurred in my family), current or previous medical conditions (no, I'm in good shape), any known allergies (nope, unless you count a psychological allergy to brussel sprouts or uncooked tomatoes), what morning would I be able to come back to have the stitches removed (really, you have more than one time slot available??). They assumed I would pay by cash or credit and that I'd sort out my insurance paperwork on my own. Oy, that reminds me. Filing for my treatment is going to take forever.
First, no doctors makes appointments. Even for follow-ups. Perhaps the doctors know that too many people would not bother to show up, or they would arrive too late and then still demand to be seen. Either way, it's first come first served. Get your butt in the door at the crack of dawn, stampede to the ticket machine, and push your way to a low number. Then register for the doctor you want to see sometime that day. Be pointed in the right direction. Be prepared to wait for hours.
Second, signs are for idiots. When you finally find the right clinic, you're supposed to just kind of wander around and stare at what others are doing until you realize you just have to wait some more until your 'file' (little more than your name and nationality) is processed and you are handed another number from a nurse behind Door Number 1. Those who aren't also wandering around have been through this before and are secretly laughing behind their hands at the zombie-eyed newbies. Or they are egotistical enough to just start banging on Door Number 1, 2 and 3 until someone comes out and explains the process. Thankfully the nurse usually seems to also say, "No, you can't jump the line. Sit your butt down."And start waiting for hours.
Third, paying before any procedure ensures that you won't try to skip out the back door without laying down your Ringitt. This makes a lot of sense to me, and I was very interested in the itemized list of exactly what I would be paying for to have my mole removed... 2 disposable face masks (3 ply): RM1.60; injection of Xylocaine (2%): RM 8.50; 2 pair gloves (non powder): RM 4; waterproof bandage (medium): RM2; etc. Here's a system that makes people and their disorders behave properly. Keep the bleeders to yourself or you'll have to buy more gauze and band aids. Don't drop that surgical mask or the patient may fight you on who has to purchase the extra one. Actually, my treatment was very reasonably priced and I was happy to pay for those masks and bandages. Keep those germs away from me, thank you! I should have thought to purchase an extra set to take home because face masks can be quite trendy and non-powder gloves are handy (ha-ha) when slicing hot chilies.
Lastly, the whole process was blissfully short on paperwork. I only signed one form giving permission for my mole removal and only had to look at one document confirming that my name and address were correct. I had a real, in person, verbal conversation with the doctor about my family history (yes, unfortunately cancer has occurred in my family), current or previous medical conditions (no, I'm in good shape), any known allergies (nope, unless you count a psychological allergy to brussel sprouts or uncooked tomatoes), what morning would I be able to come back to have the stitches removed (really, you have more than one time slot available??). They assumed I would pay by cash or credit and that I'd sort out my insurance paperwork on my own. Oy, that reminds me. Filing for my treatment is going to take forever.
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