This is part II of a series. Click here to read from the beginning.
My second attempt at a Ningbo prenatal visit was much more
successful. I took the train so I
wouldn’t have to stress about catching the bus home – and scheduled my return
train ticket for well into the evening.
When I arrived at the hospital, I called the VIP clinic to alert them to
my arrival and was asked which entrance I was at. I had no idea. The only Chinese character I could recognize
was mén, which just means
door! It seemed to be the most
non-emergency main entrance though, so I was quickly found. To be honest, it would have been a lot
simpler had they just told me to go to the 5th floor and follow the
signs that say “special requirement clinic” – their Chinglish for VIP Clinic,
which was literally 15 feet from where I was last time.
Instead
of having to do the registration process myself this time, a nurse from the VIP
clinic does it for me – for $10. That
$10 then gives me the VIP status that bumps me to the front of every line. From my last failed visit, I already had my
Ningbo Universal Outpatient Case History book and card. Medical records in this city are electronic,
carried by you on your card. Any
hospital in China can access my records were I to drop in. For all China lacks on, this is quite
advanced compared to the U.S. system!
Anyway, the nurse who took my card to register me came back a bit
confused – “Is your name Hui Li?” Why
yes, it is. At least at your
hospital!
The
one nurse, who spoke exceptional English and is also from Sanmen, then took me
over to the maternal clinic to the next room.
Since I was a VIP, I didn’t need to wait for my number to be called this
time. We walked right in and sat in a
room with three other patients. The woman
at the desk took my card, had the nurse translate some questions (e.g. When was
your last period? Have you ever had a baby before? Was it a vaginal delivery? How old is that baby?) and she entered stuff
into the system. The woman at the
computer than scratched some notes into my medical book, swiped my card to
record the information she had entered into the computer, and we were on our
way. It was only after we left that the
nurse told me I had just met with the doctor.
“What? The woman at the computer
was the doctor?” Yeah, not quite the
U.S. for sure! Apparently during that
brief meeting with the doctor though, she had ordered several blood tests, a
urine test, and an ultrasound for me.
Next,
we went down to the second floor and wound our way through a mass of pregnant
women standing in a narrow hallway. When
we reached the door, the nurse peaked in and asked if we could come in. We were ushered right in and I was now the
next patient in line for my ultrasound.
Having always been a person who follows the rules and never cuts lines,
I must say I felt really guilty for jumping in front of all of those other
women waiting in a hot, narrow hallway.
However, without my VIP status I would have to go to Shanghai since
there was no way for me to navigate this system without special treatment.
The
ultrasound room had three stations separated by curtains that weren’t
pulled. I was told to get on the table,
had the jelly put on my belly, the ultrasound tech confirmed I was pregnant and
11 weeks along (spot on with what I told them), and then had to hurry and wipe
off my belly – “next patient!” I was
seriously on the table less than 30 seconds.
The way they have the ultrasound equipment set up it is pretty
impossible for the woman to even see the screen, and since they aren’t private
rooms, the fathers aren’t allowed in. What
a medicalized process. They do print off
an ultrasound picture for you though, which was amongst the worst I’ve ever
seen (considering I was 11 weeks).
Next,
my nurse guide told me was the urine sample.
She brought me to a public restroom, handed me the cup, and offered to
hold my backpack for me. I’m pretty
proficient at using squat toilets, but forgot to grab my toilet paper from my
backpack before I went into the bathroom.
It is rare for a public toilet to provide any toilet paper – apparently
even at a hospital. The cleanliness of
the bathroom was comparable to a dirty bathroom at a gas station – you know,
the ones you try to avoid. When I walked
in, the stalls were all full. And in
one, there was a woman trying to help another person get a stool sample. That person missed the toilet stall
altogether on their way in – there was a diarrhea trail into that one. And then the woman helping that poor soul had
several cups lined up on the floor where she was gathering additional stool
samples. Crazy. If you’re female and have ever given a urine
sample in the States, you know how the nurses have to explain to you in detail
every time how to get a “clean catch” when they hand you the cup and three
sterile wet wipes. It was such an ironic
contrast to be standing in a bathroom holding an urine sample cup and have no
wipes (or toilet paper in general) or even instructions on a “clean catch” and
be trying to not look at the diarrhea trail as I waited for a cleaner stall.
After
that, all that was left was the blood draw.
This was quick and good.
Interestingly, the phlebotomists here don’t change their gloves between
patients. Apparently they wear them to
protect themselves – not you.
With
that, I was on my way home, told on the way out to just call again a few days
before I wanted to come for my 16 week checkup.
Although I only had a crappy ultrasound picture of our “little mite” in
my backpack, I still had a sense of satisfaction that I had successfully
navigated a Chinese hospital and was told I had a normal baby. Yes, I had to pay out of pocket and then be
reimbursed by our insurance company, but the total cost for that visit was less
than $40. And that included the fee for
an ultrasound. Despite all of the
oddities, since I don’t think a medicalized birth is necessary, I figured this
place would be sufficient for at least my prenatal care – we’re still deciding
on where to have the actual birth.
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