Date with the Doctor

Yesterday morning, I awoke feeling like I had hardly slept. Between eating a late dinner and being anxious about my doctor's appointment, my mind and body battled it out until the wee hours. I spent most of those awake hours stressing about everything that could go wrong on Thursday when I had my first endocrinologist appointment in Brazil. Most had nothing to do with the actual health.

You see, in Brazil, it's the logistics surrounding events that truly make me anxious.

Let's start with actually getting the appointment. As very few people in Brazil speak a word of English, I recruited my friend Beth, who is fluent in Portuguese to call and make the appointment. After making the call, she called me laughing, as the receptionist spoke fluent English and could help me directly. One hurdle crossed.

Dr. Medieros ( usually booked several months out) had a cancellation in a week and it was given to me. Second hurdle crossed.

First obstacle- it was on Thursday at 4, the worst day of the week and at a very bad time. To keep the appointment, David would have to come home from work so I could drive his car because mine is illegal to drive from 5-8pm on Thursdays, not to mention someone being home for the kids at 4:30.

David promised he would make it home so I could leave by 3 to make the six mile drive to the Dr.'s office. Yes, in Sao Paulo, it can take an hour or more to go five miles.

Next obstacle, "How to Pay". In Brazil, all medical care is "pay that day" in cash, no credit cards, no insurance. After paying for your visit, you then file a claim with the insurance for reimbursement. I knew the consultation fee was $500 and assumed there would be many tests involved. I needed a lot of cash, which David reassured me he would bring home.

I spent the day before the appointment dodging the maid, trying to squeeze in a shower, and fasting for the blood work. David made it home at three with the money and the car and I headed out to Jardins, the same neighborhood where the kids go to school. As expected, traffic was heavy, slow and chaotic and I was driving David's car which is by far one of the biggest cars on the road here. As I squeezed my way down the five lane road which is officially three lanes, the minutes ticked by and I made it to the office five minutes late, which is early in Brazil.

Anticipating lots of paperwork to complete, I had all my history and insurance info ready to jot down.

First big surprise, no preliminary paper work. The receptionist wrote down my name, address, phone number and email and asked me to wait in the lobby. That's when I heard the typewriter. It's funny how foreign the sound of a typewriter is these days. I felt like I was in a time warp.

After a short wait , I was called back by the English speaking receptionist, a tiny older lady in a very proper business suit with tiny glasses perched on her nose. She introduced me to Solange, the nurse who spoke no English and the receptionist stayed to translate between the two of us. First translation- remove all your clothes and step onto the scale.

First pause - I wait for them to leave me with the paper gown. They stand and wait. "All my clothes? Right now?", I say, sure I misunderstood something. They shook their heads.

Second big surprise, they were going nowhere and there was no paper gown, but I think they said I could keep on my underwear. Yes, apparently in Brazil, you undress in front of medical personnel while they watch.

Thinking surely something has been lost in translation and they were going to stop me, I proceeded to undress very slowly, folding all my clothes neatly on the chair. They stood patiently and waited while I stripped down to just my underwear. Nurse Solange then weighed, measured, and took my vitals. I kept thinking that this must be how it feels to be abducted by aliens for research. Eventually I was told to get dressed to wait for the doctor.

This gave me a few minutes to reflect why I hadn't taken the time to shave every inch of my body, wear my prettiest panties and douse myself with perfumed lotion. Maybe because this is a thyroid doctor and they usually don't pay much attention below your shoulders!

I won't bore you with all the medical details, but will say that Dr. Medieros was all I hoped he would be - kind, thorough, knowledgable, and an excellent English speaker. It was a little strange to have a male doctor put his hand into my bra to listen to my heart (especially one who looks like a Grandpa), but I was so grateful to be completely dressed, it was a small discomfort in comparison. Plus, in Brazil, doctors greet their new patients with a warm embrace and two kisses on the cheeks, so I felt we already knew each other.

Other than also wishing I had a fresh pedicure for the radiologist who had to rub down my foot with cream before the bone density test, the rest of the appointment went by without too much embarrassment.

When the sweet receptionist presented me the $3000+ bill, I was comfortably seated and fully dressed, sparing me from falling naked to the floor. Needless to say, I did not have $3000 in my wallet. I envisioned where I would spend the night- in jail or the examining room until David could bring me more money. Instead, they held my badly needed Synthroid prescription hostage and allowed me to return next Tuesday with the ransom for my results and the drugs.

After all that, I drove home in Sao Paulo rush hour (where the aforementioned five lanes had morphed into six) feeling exhausted, weak, and starved, but feeling relieved and enlightened as well. So this is why Brazilian woman always smell good, are known for there pretty lingerie, and are famous for the Brazilian wax- it's because they never want to be caught with ugly underwear, hairy legs, dry skin and chipped toenails. Who knew you should treat a Dr.s appointment like a date night with your hubby. Another lesson learned for next time. I'll be prepared for my follow-up Tuesday. I better start getting ready now.