Czech health-(s)care? / Ceske nemocnice – mucednice?

Way back when, when I was about 16 years old I had my appendix removed. The operation was successful although my appendix was wrapped around my stomach so instead of a quick one hour operation it was a 5-hour ordeal, but I am alive, which is all that matters.

After the operation was over and I gained consciousness I was given a choice to recover either in the pediatric department or to stay with the adults. I chose to stay with the ‘kids’ since I was almost postitive that some other sickly 16- or 15- year-old will share my misery there.Unfortunately, that did not turn out to be the case. The oldest kid after me was 5 years old. The dining room had a little kid tables with colorful matching kid chairs; most beds had rails on them and the bed time was at 6pm. And I had 2 ‘wonderful’ weeks to spend in this environment! Most of the days I wasted my time reading my favorite book called “Mladi v hajzlu” (My life in the dumps) which lessen my misery by at least a bit.

I do not want to talk about how miserable I felt though. I want to talk about the other kids. Get ready for this. What am I about to tell you is so crazy that even my own father, a doctor at that particular hospital, did not believe me. When any of the children happened to make a peep after the directed bed time (6 pm) one of the nurses would come in and punished them in a following way: she would take that poor victim in another room and intentionally hurt him by injecting an empty injection into his arm. I remember those poor souls crying and crying without any help on sight. I was terrified and I made sure to have my eyes closed after 6 o’clock! When I mentioned that to my father he did not believe me and up to this day refuses to believe such a vile behavior. Too bad because it is the truth.

CZ: Pred tisici lety, kdyz mi bylo kolem 16-ti let, dostala jsem slepaka. Operace se povedla – tedy jsem nazivu – ale misto 1 hodiny to doktorum trvalo asi 5 hodin, protoze jsem mela slepe strevo obmotane kolem zaludku. Pote, co jsem se probudila na post-operacnim pokoji se me sestra zeptala, jestli se pry chci zotavovat na detskem oddeleni anebo s dospelaky. Bez meskani jsem rekla, ze chci byt na detskem, blahove jsem si totiz myslela, ze tam najdu par svych trpicich vrstevniku. Chyba lavky. Nejstarsimu diteti po mne bylo 5 let; vetsina posteli mela mrize pro mimina, v jidelne byli pestrobarevne miniaturni stoli a zidlicky jako to byvalo ve skolce a spat se slo v 6 vecer. A to jsem v tom propadenem oddeleni musela stravit 2 tydny! Nastesti jsem si krusne chvile kratila ctenim knizky “Mladi v hajzlu”, ktera mi dodavala sily.

Nechci vam tady ale vypravet o sobe; chci se vam sverit, co se tam delo ostatnim detem. Jestlize si totiz jedno z techto malych deti ‘dovolilo’ vypustit hlasek po 6. hodine vecerni, prisla si pro nej sestra a potrestala ho nasledovne: pichla ho do ruky prazdnou injekci a to aby to bolelo dostatecne, aby si to svoje chovani priste ‘parchant’ rozmyslel. To je co? Do dneska mi to muj tata, toho casu doktor v teto nejmenne nemocnici, neveri. Je to skoda, protoze to je naprosta pravda.