A Cultural Shock: My first encounter with the US Health Care System 2/2

I did not understand why they kept asking me questions on the sidewalk. Wouldn't it be more convenient (and less embarrassing) to put me into their big ambulance and just ask me everything in there? Otherwise could I just be released and continue my way to the nearest hospital? As I was about to ask them these questions, another loud ambulance pulled in front of us. Another crew of people jumped out of it and approached me. I was getting really scared. I just had a cut on my eyebrow or was there something else going on here that they had requested another ambulance? I checked myself again; everything seemed to be in place. As the first crew left, the new one was approaching and the questions began again. I found it interesting that I went through the same series of questions one more time. Again, I failed the one about the health insurance number. They may have been testing my alert status but couldn't they just get my information from the first crew of paramedics? Why was I still lying in the middle of the street? Too many questions were going through my mind at that moment.

Finally, I was escorted to the ambulance. Once there and with no more audience, an idea assaulted my mind: how much is this going to cost me? I was tempted to ask them whether I could just make my way to the nearest hospital. It was just 2 blocks and I was not bleeding anymore. It would not have been any problem for me. Unfortunately I was not brave enough to ask them. Once in the ambulance, I was asked: "To which hospital do you want to be taken?" I looked at the paramedic that asked me this question. I was not sure I understood it right so he repeated it for me. To which hospital did I want to be taken? This may have been a question traditionally asked, but I just did not expect it. I am a medical doctor, and I knew by training that under emergency conditions, patients should be taken to the nearest hospital. This was certainly not a life-threatening condition, but I certainly wanted my eyebrow to be put together as soon as possible. So once I realized that he was waiting for my reply, I requested to be taken to the nearest hospital. But this idea of being taken to the nearest hospital in order to be treated as soon as possible failed to be true. I had to wait close to 4 hours for stitches. But I have to say that it was worth waiting. The doctor did a very good job. On the day of my wedding I could hardly see the scar. Even though there was not a visible physical memory of my accident, this was indeed a new and unforgettable experience for me, and certainly embarrassing enough to stop riding my bike and replace my cycling practices with the pleasure of walking.

A Cultural Shock: My first encounter with the US Health Care System 1/2

To My Husband Jorge
It all started when I ran into a metal bench while riding my bike across campus. My forehead crashed into the bench and I was completely knocked out. I quickly came around thinking that everything was fine, that I could just pick up my bike and keep going. Suddenly my face was completely covered in blood. I had a wide-open cut on my right eyebrow and also a crew of people surrounding me. It was certainly not a good time for this to happen as I was getting married in 2 weeks. I was thinking to myself: "What should I do now? Should I just push my way through these people and just walk to the nearest hospital?" It was certainly a short walk. The university hospital was just 2 blocks away from where I was. But one guy called 911, another started asking me how I was feeling. To be honest, I was just feeling embarrassed. They also asked me who they should call. I realized that there was nobody to call to except for a very close friend.
Soon after the accident, a big red ambulance made its way across 20th street south. The siren was loud enough for everybody to realize that something had happened. I really didn't need any bigger audience, but now it was inevitable. The first crew of paramedics climbed out of the ambulance and approached me. They did clean my face and put some pressure on my eyebrow which I really appreciated. I knew eyebrows could bleed a lot. I just never imagined that it could be that much. After the bleeding was controlled, the questions started. I went through the traditional questions regarding my personal information. Name and date of birth were not a problem for me but I had no clue what my health insurance number was. They asked me about it in several ways. I guessed they thought I was having trouble understanding them but I just did not know it. A few days after the accident I found out that my health insurance number was the same as my social security number (SSN); that was convenient! Well, this would not have made any difference because I had not memorized my SSN by then. I had just arrived to the US and I was not used to the idea of being a number yet, as I am now.