Visiting a Doctor in Dumaguete is another new experience in my continuing adventure
Before going to the doctor, We’d grabbed a bite in the Jollibee. Cost me $2.50 to feed and water Daisy and me. It was good though. And so it should be for that price. Good gracious me. Inflation is out of hand. Thinking of food I watch the tiny lizards that run about our walls snacking on whatever it is they find on the walls and ceiling. It’s nice to see them back again. Not since days in East Africa.
My snack I thought desirable to help gather my strength before my meeting with the quack. No I’m not ill. But I do have to pop a couple of prescription drugs for my on-going welfare. On the grounds that prescription meds are said to be much cheaper overseas than they are in North America I decided that rather than stock up in Canada I would wait till I hit town in Dumaguete. Good call. They were about a third of the price that it cost me under our envied health care system.
The lady doc turned out to be a sweetie – small, a tiny voice but most professional. The Silliman has a clinic unit that houses a number of doctors and their rooms. But she took one look at Daisy and I and asked where we met. Before we could answer she answered for us. We all laughed. “It’s becoming quite the phenomenon these days,” she smiled, “absolutely everyone’s doing it.”
Anyway, instead of being restricted to the one issue we may discuss with a doctor per session, we talked of a variety of symptoms, mild of course, mostly historical and must have been with her for forty minutes or more. I was somewhat nonplussed when I was asked to drop my pants and sit on the table because, on account of my prostate, some pressing and prodding was called for. In response to the good doctor’s entreaties Daisy unblushinglly moved in to take care of the unbuttoning/zipping. They clearly believe that a man on a doctor’s table needs assistance! (Not sure I can tell when/if Daisy is blushing – her dark tan you know?
Anyway, one of my issues was the growth on my cheek. No not those cheeks, one of those on my face. It is becoming tiresome to say the least so I had it tested last December. I was told it is not malignant and we would tackle the removal that would take five or six ‘freezing’ sessions starting January. Well that little plan clearly had to change so I resolved to get the removal done here.
“You will have to go to the dermatologist,” our mini lady doctor squeaked. “I know you do it different in Canada but we are not Canada, this is Philippines.”
“Quite so,” I agreed.
After our session was completed, Daisy had planted the 500 pesos fee in her hand ($10) and we had waved our goodbyes, we set out to walk the distance between the doctor’s office and the dermatologist. It seemed the sensible thing to do because who knew how many months I would have to wait for service.
We looked for the sign that we had been instructed would lead us to this professional’s rooms. Soon we spotted it among a plethora of others for photo copies, shoe shine, vegetables a butcher and others. We found our way inside. I have shared this sign with you my gentle reader in one of the photos attached. I found it most informative.
“Do you want to do this today,” our hopelessly attractive young lady ‘skin doctor’ asked. She had wandered through from behind a curtain and I had immediately marveled at what an attractive nurse. Then I discovered she would be the one carving up my face. Tony Edwards, you really must stop making incorrect assumptions. Well, I mean, after all its not every day….
We learned from this skin doctor that in the Philippines such growths are tackled with heat not cold and it would take only one session. “The cheek will be anesthetized first,” she explained “and that is the most painful part of the session,” she assured with a serious countenance.
I reflected on the sign that had directed us here. “I wonder if I should have a coffee first,” I ask myself.
“What exactly did we mean by painful?” I enquired, with a curious expression on my face I am sure.
“Well, I shall eenject it yes. Cheek sleep. No pain.”
“Oh right,” I think, I can handle that. My doctor in Salt Spring did the same thing for the biopsy.
We settled on Thursday at 3:30pm for the surgical hour or 15 minutes perhaps.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I tire. It’s time to get back in the pool.
