So my roommate, the beautiful B, bundled me into a cab and told the driver where to go. We didn’t go to the first hospital b/c it was private, and they wanted 190 lira upfront and beautiful B snorted and said we could do better and told the driver to take us somewhere else.
So we went somewhere else where they would take me, (I’m not technically covered by social security yet) and sat in a variety of waiting rooms where I sat bewildered, and alternately cried inappropriately and giggled inappropriately. The night was a bit of a blur, but my takeaway was this- getting a hand x-rayed and set and put in a cast requires talking to one technician, one doctor, and about thirty people sitting behind desks who all needed different pieces of paper stamped and affixed with a barcode sticker before anything can advance. Also, for the traveller, it’s interesting to note that they deferred payment until such a time as I have social security, but for all their fanatical attention to paperwork, I’m listed as Elizabeth Perrich on every document and they have my address wrong, so how they’ll find me for remittance is beyond me. But just as I’m afraid of ghosts with no logical reason to be, I believe they can do it.
They set the broken bone in my hand without meds, (thank god I was kinda drunk!) and sent me home well after dawn in a plaster cast. Beau Brooks knows the rest of that morning. I’m a little unclear.