Cervical Cancer: A Diary - Part 6

Eventually as is inevitable the 7th of September rolls around. I am due to go into the hospital on this day and my op is scheduled for the 8th. My dear friend (she knows who she is) takes me to the hospital early in the morning. I am armed with a bank guaranteed cheque to pay upfront for both the operation and my private ward. This is the only way one can guarantee a private ward at this particular hospital. So in we go to the admissions desk. There’s a long queue. Big surprise. So we sit and wait… and wait… and wait. Eventually my name gets called. I mosey on over to the reception desk and inform the rather surly clerk that I would like to pay for the private ward in D4. She looks at me unimpressed and asks to see the cheque. Glancing briefly at it, she informs me that she cannot accept it as it’s incorrectly made out. Apparently the name of the hospital is not the logical title to put on the cheque. She asks if I can have the cheque changed. I have a brief panic attack and eventually agree to go to the bank across the road to attempt to do just that.

We walk out and it’s pouring with rain. I have a week’s luggage in my hand which is getting rather heavy now. We go into the bank and make our way to enquiries. I have to fill in many forms and answer several thousand questions for them to change the cheque for me. Eventually we hit a glitch in that I don’t have my id book with me, only passport. At this point 30 minutes have passed and I begin to lose it. I have been sitting at the hospital for about 2 hours and now this happens. It’s all too much. I tell the cashier to forget about the cheque and storm out. My friend suggests that her fiancé does an electronic payment and that I can pay them back later to save time. I agree to this very generous suggestion and back we go to the annoying clerk. We tell her that I have to see the doctors at 11am and seeing as it’s now 10.45 can I please just go up to the private ward. She eventually agrees so up we go.

I arrive at Ward D4 (private ward) and it’s another fight that I have with the secretary. She can’t let me in unless we have proof of payment. At this point I am all out of fight and I burst into tears. She takes pity on me and tells me to go to the ward and get into bed. She will sort out the payment between my friend and the doctors. I breathe a sigh of relief and do just that. It’s now about 12 noon and I’ve been at this godforsaken place for four and a half hours. I phone my friend who says the payment has been made and the proof faxed through. So all is well on that side.

To be continued...