Today I finally tackled the medical scene. For a few weeks now I’ve had a sore shoulder. I don’t remember any particular incident but it aches slightly al the time, much more in the cold and I can feel it when I move it.
I did heat, without any result. Visiting Montilla, I met a masseuse who gave me a session but it didn’t seem to help.
So finally I decided to go to the traumatologist. The system here is you go to a specialist for a referral to a physio, not the general GP. I spend days summing up the courage to ring, and they gave me an appointment for the next day.
So armed with my private health care card I found the clinic this afternoon. Despite the fact there were 6 in the queue, I was in an out in 10 minutes. And this is why…
I entered a little corridor with another door at the end. Walking through the second door in the middle of the room was a huge desk with two men behind it. They could have been panel members from the Australian Idol audition. One had regular clothes, while the other sat behind a computer in a white lab coat.
The non-coated is the traumatologist. I give him three brief sentences explaining verbally the problem. He gets up, comes around the desk and feels my shoulder, without moving it for approximately 8 seconds. He returns to his side of the desk, and tells the other guy it’s tendinitis and he’ll order a ‘bit of physiotherapy’ which the other guy types into the computer. He then writes it on a piece of paper for me as well as a tablet I’m to take and the name of a cream to use. I’m to see him again after the physiotherapy, and then I’m dismissed.
It’s a rapid system – and fairly surreal. The secretary informs me that a ‘bit of physiotherapy’ is 10 sessions and she will ring me the next day to arrange the time, the same time, as I will be given the time for the next 10 days.
As it turns out, 9am in the morning. So tomorrow, I’m off to my first session.