Isan Medical Center

The Inquisitor has reached the gifted age of 57. He doesn't feel that way at all, many years to go. Like a young foal, he jumps into housework by doing chores, fighting weeds in the garden, in the house by brushing Flemish clean and even in bed - if he's having a really good day. But still the sleet appears. Tired faster and above all, lazy faster. The latter especially in bed. 

The Inquisitor also has a weakness: doctor phobia squared. The long years in a society where medical consumption is a must have left their mark. A doctor always finds something. He wants to test your blood from your fortieth birthday. On cholesterol, sugars and others. To then banish the nice things in life. De Inquisitor maintains that line of thought, also here in Thailand. And he visited a doctor twice in ten years for a foot fracture and a shoulder injury – also originating from that 'nothing bothers me' – because playing football after the age of fifty is actually not advisable. And that was in the foreign enclave of Pattaya, a Mecca for over-anxious people because a hospital is on every corner of the street.

But now there was pain, quite a lot in fact, in the lower back. After the second day it started to disturb his sleep. The third day he was completely confused, standing, sitting or lying down - nothing brought relief. Then came the fever, the chills at night. And the girlfriend got angry. Why not see a doctor?

Well, first of all that phobia. Dom. Second, the Inquisitor had brought neighbors to the local hospital here before. Nothing made him doubt the knowledge, good will and helpfulness of those people there, but the infrastructure. Only nursing wards with 12 beds. Someone with a broken leg lies next to someone with liver disease. A five-year-old child lies next to an elder on her end.

With an extra bunch of people who were eating, talking and laughing on a mat - relatives of the patients who spend the night there. An overworked nurse who brought the meds for bed 4 to bed 12 only to find out at the last minute. The man from bed 12 was already taking the pills to his mouth… Cats walking around freely – you'll just have an open wound.

All equipment, from beds to machinery, seemed to come from a museum. No, The Inquisitor had no confidence in that.

But the girlfriend was smarter. She knew of a clinic forty miles closer to civilization. And she was more stubborn than The Inquisitor. So up the hill. Little painful hanging on the handlebars to relieve the pressure on the lower back, but it worked. Three quarters of an hour later we arrive in the town, well, a slightly larger municipality. And can't find a parking space. Yes, about ten minutes walking distance in full sun and with a sore lower back. Sweating, De Inquisitor enters an enormous waiting room where at least sixty people are seated.

At the counter he has to describe his ailment, with translation by the girlfriend because no English and The Inquisitor's Thai is insufficient for medical descriptions. But it seems to work, wait a minute, a doctor (or assistant) comes up behind The Inquisitor and kneads the lower back without warning - The Inquisitor is immediately ready for a fight, wow, how painful.
The kidneys. – a word he can add to his Thai vocabulary. And behold, despite serial number twenty-five, De Inquisitor is taken to what at first seemed like a kind of remote bicycle shed. There is even a bicycle inside, but also a device to take pictures. Ten minutes later they are ready and The Inquisitor is taken back to the waiting room.

And he is immediately the center of attention. Over his head, the other people waiting talk to the girlfriend. From which country? How old? How long together? Do you already have children? How long in Thailand? Does he never go back? The conversation even becomes cheerful, ah yes, of the sixty or so people present, only twenty-five are on the dork, the rest are there out of solidarity. Because the girlfriend is also happy, she was finally able to take him to a doctor. And the treasure knows that The Inquisitor is allergic to syringes. She cheerfully announces that to everyone and that is humor in Thai style – teasing the farang a bit. To keep things cheerful, The Inquisitor plays along and the waiting time of an hour is over in no time. What makes that hour go by even faster is The Inquisitor's astonishment at the patient's lack of privacy.

In the huge waiting room, five cubicles have been made without a ceiling, with a doorway where a completely useless curtain hangs - it is not used, it remains open. You see the actions of the doctor, the facial expressions, in short, you can follow the entire treatment. And every patient, without exception, gets a syringe in the ass.

Most seem to be able to undergo that more dignified than The Inquisitor, it can't be true… But the lack of privacy goes much further.

After an hour, De Inquisitor is summoned to take a seat in booth number two. This while the doctor is still busy with another patient who has something with her thighs. So the skirt has to come off, which makes De Inquisitor laugh. A minute later, we're all laughing in that cubicle—including the patient, the assistant, and the doctor, and the girlfriend. Nice stuff at the doctor here.

Then it's the turn of The Inquisitor, onto the examination table. And the next patient in, another lady. This lady immediately starts a conversation with the girlfriend. About the farang. The one that has to come off. Who stoically undergoes the actions of the doctor - who fortunately speaks excellent English.

Who there, wearing only underpants (why am I still wearing those small?), sees about seven men standing in front of the doorway - all curious about the anatomy of a white man or what? No, they are waiting. Until the syringe, formidable size, arrives. Completely defeated, The Inquisitor turns his face to the wall and waits to see what is to come. And that comes faster than expected so that a light moan escapes - much to the delight of the onlookers. Even more joy when The Inquisitor, happily wearing his trousers, goes through the waiting room to the counter. Not realizing his hand is rubbing the injected spot – until he notices the Thai nudging each other and smiling, they're right, farang are weaklings.

Oh yeah. The verdict: severe kidney inflammation. Doomed to take eleven pills a day. And don't drink beer or other alcohol. And take a rest. Drink plenty of water, preferably four liters a day. Everything else OK.

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