The Poetist

Adventures in medicine are not the kind of adventures you want to have in a foreign country. That being said…

A couple of weeks ago I was doing something totally unremarkable when I realized that thing hurt my middle finger. I looked at the palm of my finger and saw a couple of black spots. I figured it was a splinter that I somehow acquired, and didn’t think more of it. And then the black spots didn’t go away. They multiplied. I started seeing these little white lumps turn into black spots. I started with 2, and now I have 6. And to boot, my arm has been feeling funny too (although maybe I’m sleeping on it too much?)

So I went to a clinic on Thursday. I called my insurance company, told them the problem, and they found a clinic near my train station and (more or less) made an appointment for me. My doctor spoke a little bit of English. Enough to ask me questions, but not enough to explain anything to me. She looked at my finger and basically said the problem was “too weak” to be able to tell what it was. She couldn’t decide if it was a splinter or an insect bite, and said that I should put ointment on it and come back Tuesday.

I was like, something is in my finger. What is ointment going to do??? She said that it would make my finger softer, so she would better be able to tell what the problem was. I asked her why she didn’t know, and what she was looking for but she said she couldn’t explain it to me in English. I looked at my finger again and noticed that two black dots had actually grown to four. So I asked her to take another look at it. I said look -before there were two dots and now there are four! She offered to get a needle to try to dig it out – whatever it is. (In retrospect it seems odd that a doctor would willingly go poking around under my skin without having any idea what’s under there.)

I, however, am deathly afraid of needles. Just to give you a picture of this: in high school I had to get a shot for some reason (vaccination?) and after the fact I fainted. I had been so nervous about getting a shot I fainted as soon as it was over. In college I went through a time where I was pretty consistently getting poked and prodded, and when it came time for a shot my veins collapsed. I was so nervous that my veins literally disappeared and it became difficult for the nurses to find a vein large enough to use. It’s pretty serious for me. So while the nurse went to get the needle I started freaking out. I almost started crying and then in my head I was like ‘Adelle, get yourself together. You can’t cry about this, something is in your finger.’ The doctor came back and the needle actually wasn’t the long scary kind, it looked more like a sewing needle. I was still pretty apprehensive though. She took another look at my finger, claimed that it was impossible to know anything, and then told me that I had two choices. She could use the needle to investigate, or I could take the ointment and comeback Tuesday.

I chose the ointment.

Although I must admit, I haven’t been that serious about putting it on. The pharmacist spoke better English than the doctor, and she told me that the ointment was an antibiotic; something I’m sure the doctor could have communicated to me as well. I’ve been showing my finger to anyone willing to look – it’s not gross, just strange – and one of my friends said that it might be calcium deposits, which happen to people who don’t get enough calcium. Another friend suggested that I go to Web M.D., which I did. The symptoms don’t entirely match up, but it looks like I could have a finger infection. I’m going to go back to the clinic tomorrow and hope that the doctor knows something. And if she doesn’t, I’ll just have to find an English speaking clinic, which hopefully won’t be too hard. All I want is a person who knows what she’s doing and can speak English… two things I didn’t see on Thursday. Maybe I’ll just bypass this clinic/doctor and ask my insurance people to find me another place. Yeah.