My everyday walk to the C train in Brooklyn had a pleasant
twist this morning; spring had finally arrived. The seeming never ending months when I had to dress like an astronaut to go out were now behind; months in which I thought about moving to an all year long warm place like Cuba, and appreciate
the unfamiliar past experiences like the
lack of privacy.
When I was in Bayamo for the first time, we went to the
Céspedes Hospital to run some tests with Natacha, who was expecting Valeria.
Waiting in the lobby, right outside the doctor’s office, I noticed that the X ray
box light was on a wall; and then, every so often doctors came out of their
offices to see the X rays with their patients, and discuss them in front of the
passer byers.
“Do you want to see the intensive care unit?” Loly, my
mother-in-law asked me.
“Yes,” I answered amazed that we could visit that unit
freely.
There were no door or security personnel restricting us from
accessing to the long rectangular room that was the intensive care unit. There
were about a dozen beds on either side, and while some patients were sleeping,
others were talking to their visitors. It was pretty vivid for a unit where I
always assumed patients had to enjoy calmness.
A moment later, we were called in to see the doctor, but not
by ourselves, with a woman in her mid-thirties and her mom. I thought they had
to tell something quick to the doctor, and leave, but they sat next to Natacha
and I.
Without acknowledging us, the doctor brought up the results
of whatever test the woman had, and told her, “The results came out alright;
your pain is nothing; you’re fine.” “But doctor, my dad suffered back pain all
his life; I’m concerned I’m suffering of the same problem,” she responded. The
doctor assured her that she was fine, and when finally convinced, she got from
her purse a plastic bag with a homemade juice and sandwich. “Here’s a little
detail for you, doctor,” she said. “Oh, no, you shouldn’t have,” he responded.
That offering and refusal game was going on back and forth for a bit; “fine, if
nobody wants it, I’ll take it,” I thought.
After the doctor finally accepted the gift, the woman and
her mom left; that was a relief because I was worried about having some tests
with some strangers witnessing that.
There was also an experience that I found remarkable. Rather
than sending texts, and finding out what everybody is doing on Facebook, people
connected in person. Doors of houses tend to be open for the most part of
the day; letting the air circulate has to do with that, but that makes friends
who are just passing by, stop for a quick cafecito
or cup of coffee, and enjoy a little chat. Different neighbors came to
watch the Brazilian soap operas on different nights, providing a variety of
topics for conversation.
With spring here, I love New York again, and I’m happy with
the privacy that the health system provides, but I miss the in-person
connection, something that with a warm weather, I can begin experiencing more
often.
Natacha and Loly at the ultrasound test in Bayamo, Cuba
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