The Siamerican

Lying in bed waiting for the 10 minute snooze delay to re-remind me of the days plans, few birds chirp above the rare, quiet and dark Bangkok neighborhood outside. Finally committing to follow through, I maneuver out of bed and begin the task of adjourning myself for public commute.

Before two months ago, showering, brushing and dressing could be executed in ten flat, but now with one remaining functional arm and hand, these simple everyday tasks require more than twice the time and effort.

After rigging on my clothes and arm sling snugly, I confirm possession of my wallet, keys and phone in my bag and make the anticipated departure. It’s 4.30. The neighborhood outside is cool and mostly asleep, promising a peaceful 15 minute walk to Sukhumvit road, Bangkok’s prime avenue.

Few cars on the expressway nearby zoom in to the dawn. Enjoying the short lived early serenity of the urban sub-street, I eventually arrive to Sukhumvit road, already beginning to congest with light traffic. Just as I approach the bus stop, my bus number 46 arrives in perfect time, and I’m relieved to claim a seat near the back. As the loud metal clunking machine navigates Sukhumvit and Rama Four roads, I anticipate a long morning ahead.

By 5.15, I make it to my destination: Chulalongkorn Memorial Hospital across from Lumpini park in central Bangkok. Making my way through an expanding crowd at the main building’s locked entrance; I request a pink queue ticket from a security guard. I get queue number 30 by 5.30, the main building opening and first of queue calling to be commenced at 7.00.

The sun has yet to light the city. My growling stomach calls for me to locate the hospital canteen which I learn opens at 6.00. The green and red lights of a small seven-eleven draws my business. The chicken sandwich and orange juice will get me through the morning.

By seven, the hospital’s main lobby is opened and soon packed with hundreds of limping and wheel-chaired patients being pointed around by helpful PR staff, nurses and security guards. Apparently, being school summer break for most of Thailand, larger crowds flock to the hospital—though most patients I can see in the crowded lobby are well beyond their school years.

After three lines, 20 minutes later, I finally have my patient card. ‘This won’t be so bad,’ I initially thought, though I was naive not to realize that the card dually implies a status of patience—necessary to get through the morning of waiting.

Next, I’m sent to floor five, Medical Sciences and Rehabilitation ward. The true waiting can now begin. The reason for an early bird queue process is that the doctors for this particular ward provide non-emergency service only from eight to noon.

Even getting my queue processed so early, my patience would be stretched until 11.45, when my name finally was called. A diligent medical student who seemed to know what he was doing examined me under the loose watch of a physician occupied with other med students.

Having me attempt various motor movements, ratings were written on a form. While the rudimentary examination couldn’t tell me much of anything new about my injury, the examination was competent enough to suggest a few exercises, and more importantly concur with my request for an Electromyography EMG test, the main purpose of my visit.

Due to long queues, the next open spot for an EMG during regular government hours would be April 10 and cost 1500 baht. Planning to visit my son in Phuket around that time, the med student informed me that I could schedule a special test after hours test sooner.

So I agreed and scheduled it for Monday, March 30 at 16.00, expected to be about 4000 baht. The original EMG test I had scheduled at the luxurious private Bangrungrad hospital would be closer to 10000 baht.

By noon, I could finally be on my way, having only relinquished 70 baht to the famous state hospital (50 baht for check up fee and 20 baht for hospital card) or two US dollars. In contrast, my similar appointment to schedule an EMG at the private hospital a month ago cost 1600 baht or about 45 US dollars.

While privileged facilities such as Bangrungrad provide swifter and more exclusive service in a classy furnished building, I simply can’t afford to be at their mercy, particularly if surgery reveals to be an option (pending the EMG test). Besides, the surgeon that reviewed my case their was regularly a state doctor as much of the renown nerve docs in Thailand are.

The trade off is a matter of time and convenience versus expense and comfort. If the end result is the same, I currently have more time than money. Hence my swap to Chula for the time being.

Similar to other ‘Haves’ and ‘Have Much Mores’ consisting capitalist societies, Thailand’s healthcare inconspicuously is a double fold, Public and Private system.

A privileged minority of affluent locals and an ever-increasing number of foreign referred medical tourists’ embrace their healing ventures in the efficiency and effectiveness of the latter—an entrepreneurial fusion between two backbone industries, luxury hospitality hospitals showcase a reckonable economical stimulation amidst dire times.

When the going gets tough for those without the security of premium insurance and/or expendable incomes, state run hospitals and clinics provide an economically superior alternative, or necessity for that matter. If you don’t mind large crowds, waiting for hours in long lines-queue Thai government hospitals are efficient at the least—if not just expense but patience practice. As far as effectiveness, you might recall my 20 dollar surgery in a government hospital a few years back. Now I can just hope that surgery will be able to assist my recovery. Stay tuned…

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