Nobody LIKES going to the doctor. But let’s face it. These ol’ bones are getting creaky, and there’s no telling what we’ve inhaled and ingested in our journeys (nothing illegal, I assure you). Better safe than sorry, right? In Vientiane, western-style medical treatment is limited to one doctor at one clinic. Expats generally cross the border into Thailand for comprehensive check-ups or major medical care, and Bangkok offers the crème-de-la-crème of healthcare options with several world-class facilities.
This was our third visit to Bumrungrad International Hospital, so we knew to show up early for our routine health exams. When the doors opened at 7 a.m. on Tuesday, we were there. The friendly nurses at the registration counter were dressed in starched white uniforms, complete with neat little hats. Other female staff members wore pale green silk uniforms with their hair pulled back into chignons; the men wore pants and jackets of the same classy fabric. Everyone greeted us with a smile and a slight bow with hands in prayer position.
After checking our vital signs and drawing a blood sample, a cheerful lady handed each of us a checklist and a locker key. We changed into cotton-knit pajamas and went our separate ways to proceed through the various screenings at numbered stations: EKG, abdominal ultrasound, eye exam, girl stuff for me, boy stuff for Tony. If ever we looked lost or confused, one of those kind silk-clad ladies would peruse our checklist and then escort us to the correct station.
Before long, the waiting areas overflowed with people of sundry shapes and sizes, with skin in all shades of pink, beige and brown. Men from around the world apparently sent each other an SMS calling “polo shirt and jeans day,” while the women took diversity to the catwalk: conservative older Asian ladies in business suits and low-heeled pumps, trendy young Europeans with tiny skirts and massive designer bags, Middle Eastern women holding their veiled heads high, slouchy North Americans in T-shirts and jeans, and so on. The hospital caters to a global clientele and takes steps – such as providing multi-lingual staff members and an Islam-friendly version of the patient PJs – to ensure they meet everyone’s needs.
Tony and I met up at the last station around 10:30 a.m., and the nurse called us in to see the doctor. By then nearly all our test results were available. With a few clicks, she called up ultrasound pictures, mammogram films, bloodwork, and other information. Plus, she had the results from our 2007 visit at her fingertips, so she could track changes. Very impressive!
That was yesterday. This morning we returned to Bumrungrad for routine dental appointments (two thumbs up) and then went back again in the afternoon to pick up the bound reports from our health screenings. With no Christmas presents to speak of, this was the next best thing. We tore into the manila envelopes and immediately flipped through the pages of our respective reports, calling out points of pride and comparing “scores.”
My urine was applauded as “colorless” (while Tony’s was merely “pale yellow”), and my “good cholesterol” was higher than my “bad cholesterol,” but Tony had fewer yellow flags, those minor concerns to monitor in the future. We even compared the sizes of our kidneys, which are remarkably similar. Weird.
“Face it!” Tony said, jabbing his finger into my chest. “You didn’t win in any of the categories!”
Fortunately, just then, we heard a voice ringing out from the Au Bon Pain bread shop in the hospital foyer. “Is that Tony Dent?” Tara emerged from the shop with a box full of goodies. I shrieked and gave her a big hug. Tara was our elementary librarian and upstairs neighbor in China, as well as a tech guru and lovely friend. She and her family now live in Bangkok, and she was meeting a friend at Bumrungrad. We only got to chat for a minute before she had to head home, but I felt so lucky to get a Tara fix.
Now that we’ve been poked, prodded and polished, it’s time for the real vacation to begin! We’re off to Krabi in the morning …
