Seeking medical attention in a local health center
I went to a local health center in Quezon City for a school assignment. The instructions were: dress simply, pretend you're a patient, and seek medical help.
The queue was rather long, the place already crowded even before the clinic opened. But, having come from UP, where people line up for days to pay for tuition, I was not to be discouraged. After asking further directions, I was instructed to go to another clinic, and upon arriving, I got a number. I should be called in a few moments, said the nurse.
I talked with people beside me. A lady was bitten by a dog on her finger. This was the second time she was getting anti-rabies injections. A teen, accompanied by his worried mother, was also bitten by a dog. Knowing something about rabies, after having been harassed by wretched dogs myself (thrice, I tell you!), I asked them if these supposedly rabid canines showed weird behavior. They were intently listening, and I sensed in them a need for some assurance that things will be well in the end.
It then occurred to me that somehow, I was in the wrong line again. The people around me were getting anti-rabies shots, and what was my supposed complaint?
A small, inconspicuous wart in my index finger.
On hindsight, I should've dressed like this and sought psychiatric help.
The queue was rather long, the place already crowded even before the clinic opened. But, having come from UP, where people line up for days to pay for tuition, I was not to be discouraged. After asking further directions, I was instructed to go to another clinic, and upon arriving, I got a number. I should be called in a few moments, said the nurse.
I talked with people beside me. A lady was bitten by a dog on her finger. This was the second time she was getting anti-rabies injections. A teen, accompanied by his worried mother, was also bitten by a dog. Knowing something about rabies, after having been harassed by wretched dogs myself (thrice, I tell you!), I asked them if these supposedly rabid canines showed weird behavior. They were intently listening, and I sensed in them a need for some assurance that things will be well in the end.
It then occurred to me that somehow, I was in the wrong line again. The people around me were getting anti-rabies shots, and what was my supposed complaint?
A small, inconspicuous wart in my index finger.
On hindsight, I should've dressed like this and sought psychiatric help.
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