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Medical tourism essay
Easy on medical tourism
Easy on medical tourism
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The nurse calls “Logan Jones?” with her squeaky voice. I try to stand up with the one foot thats not broken. My mother helps me limp to the ER room. This hospital has an unusual scent of cleaning alchol, and brings chills to my arms. We finally make it to the room. The nurse brings her cold hands to my swollen, purple foot, to check it out. She leaves the four white walled room, and comes back to take me to get x-rays. I wobble down the hallway, to the x-ray room. We get to the brown, wooden door and the nurse opens it up. The nurse opens up the door, and says sweetly “come sit down.” I feel my stomach start to turn in twist as I sit. The nurse places her cold hands on my swollen foot. As she carefully places my foot on the scanner. My …show more content…
Then on the computer pops up the pictures. I stare at that one picture, and see my bone broken. The doctor spoke up “as you can see here, the bone is fractured.” I look at my mom with my eyes wide open. My foot is, BROKEN. Am I going to get a cast; be in a wheel chair; get a boot, I over thought. “So since its broken, I think were going to put you in a boot.” he told me. I started to get worried, i’ve never been in a boot. The doctor left to go get the boot, and I was worried to put it on. He came back with a big black boot, and he sat down in a …show more content…
“So what you do is put your foot in like a boot. These velcro staps you can tighten them.” the doctor explains, as I put my foot in the black boot. He helps me tighten the straps on the boot, so I understand it. “Does that feel good?” the doctor asks wondering about the boot. “Yes, that feels better.” I answer. I start to stand up, and it feels so different. Like i’m walking on a cloud, on only one foot. “I hope your foot gets better, come back if it gets worse.” the doctor says goodbye to both my mom and I, shaking both of our hands. “Thank you!” my mom and I say. We start to walk to the check out area. Once we get there the lady says “it will be a $25 dollar copay.” My mom starts to get her credit card out, and pays for the appointment. “Have a nice day.” the lady smiled big, giving back my moms credit card. We walk out through the sliding doors to the car. I open the door and the boot is lighter than I thought. I finally get into the car and plop into the seat. My mom looks over to me and says “well now you know not to wear high heals anymore.” I giggle and look over to her, “or maybe I should be more carefull.” I think back to the time that I fell on my heels, and how maybe I should’ve walked more carefully. Hopefully I won’t break it
I was shaking when we went inside--- I absolutely hate the doctors office! There was only one people waiting to be seen; with a face mask on hoping not to spread the possible air borne disease, and the others who were just sitting there waiting for perhaps friends or family members to come out. They checked me in and gave me a madatory blue bracelet to wear. In no time I was rushed in a wheel chair to the CAT scan machine. I was alone in the room which was over fifteen minutes sitting inside a large machine with flourescent lights and heat directly over my head. Slowly the lady wheeled me back to my checked in room. The doctor waiting with instant news, he announced I had no internal bleeding in my head which was the only good news I would be getting that day. The nurses and doctors came to the conclusion that I had a concussion. It sure felt like
“Hmm… Your ankles are getting stronger. Would you consider going to Patterson's before our next session to purchase a pair of pointe shoes?” she asked, examining at my feet.
As I look up into the darkening sky I hear help coming. The soldier helping me soon told me that my leg would have to be a...
I was waiting like a patient young child for my brand new kicks. Days went by, and months passed. I asked my mother, “Do I still get new
My dad explained to me that my femur was broken and that I have to wear a cast until it heals. But something was not right in my leg, I felt it, it still hurt like it was out of place. My dad took me to the doctor and told him that the surgery that was done to me was not right, the bones didn’t connect to each other. They had to perform two more surgeries on my leg to make it right. One surgery to take the bone out from where it was and other one right way to connect it and to let it heal
"Selena Gibson" the nurse called out after opening the closed door. I stood up and quickly moved forward toward the nurse. Stepping through the door I was ask to turn to the right and go down the hallway. Walking down the long stretch dragging my feet along the way I was scared to find out what the doctor was going to say. Turning to the left the room looked impersonal and cold. I was asked to seat in the chair and wait till the doctor came in with the results.
Joe turns to me and grumbles, “It will be a miracle if they don’t cut off my foot.” As he removed his boot, I glance over I see his foot was nearly twice its normal size a condition known as trench foot. I feel sorry for the man, knowing that he will most likely lose his foot.
"Ow...," I moan getting off the ground pressing my hands against my head "That's going to hurt later."
So About a year or maybe like I don’t know a year and a half ago I hit my leg with a trash bag no big deal right? Ha, Ha, WRONG! I unknowingly hurt my ankle bad enough to cut it open and cause it to bleed, bad. I had to go to the ER the second time in my life that I had to go. I think I was there for maybe an hour, I got about 15 stitches (probably less) but that didn’t hurt. Now what did hurt was getting the numbing medicine or morphine if we’re being specific but I carry on, It was in fact
And that was the day I got good news, I was going to get my stitches out! As I was laying on the bed in a bright yellow room, I felt a cold tool against my foot. That is when the doctor stated “Ok, we are now going to start taking the stitches out”. That was the moment I started freaking out. My mom, grandma, and a nurse all I had to hold me down in order for me to hold still. Once the three of them had me under control, that is when the doctor could actually begin. As I was being held down by three people, I could hear each and every snip and feel the cold metal brush against the bottom of my foot once in awhile. “All done now”. When I finally heard those three words, it felt like it was the biggest relief of my life. After we got home, I took off my sock to look at my foot where I had the stitches. The area around the spot was red and kinda warm. But right where the stitches were at, I noticed my skin was lighter there and then seen that there was a part that looked like a
I was quivering as I sat on the pristinely white sheeted gurney. I had no idea what to expect. Ami sat in a plastic, maroon chair over in the corner and looked at the cold, disinfected, tile floor. The sounds of beeping machines and ticking clock flooded my ears. The nurse knocked on the door and both Ami and I jumped. She handed me a clipboard with some paperwork on it that asked for the basics: name, date of birth, reason for being here, consent to treat, and so on and so forth. I filled it all out the best I could, my mind was lost in another galaxy. Besides, how was I supposed to know what year my father was born in and the phone number to my mother’s work? Once I finished, the nurse took the clipboard and exited the room once again.
A sharp pain emerges from my shoulder as a voice follows. “Mr. Anderson! Hello! Are you with us?” I find the nurse’s firm yet gentle hand placed near my collar bone. While angering every bone in my body, I manage prop my head up to get a clear view of the woman. “No, I’m dead,” I mutter under my breath.
OUCH! My leg crippled with pain. I tried to shuffle my way to the window, but it was excruciating. As my senses kicked back in, I felt pains shooting up and down my body. Peering down at my hands I screamed. My hands were covered in cold, congealed blood.
The whole way to the hospital they asked me questions about my injuries and on what I remember about the incident. The pain was almost unbearable, so I told enough of what they wanted to hear, just so they’d shut up. They put my arm and leg in splints and finally gave me something for the pain. After about 15 minutes in the ambulance we got to the hospital and they hauled me into the X-ray room and took X-rays of my arm and leg. They found out that my forearm bone and the bone under the bicep was broken in my left arm and that I had broken my fibula in my left leg.
My legs ached slightly as I put the empty glass and packet back, swinging them out of the bed. I had to walk around for a bit after standing up, as they were pretty stiff. When I looked down, I realized with a shiver that I was wearing an unfamiliar t-shirt and a pair of jeans. They weren't the same clothes that I had worn when I fell. They weren't the same clot...