I know this is a bit of a tangent, but I really need to get this off my chest!
So, back in mid-July last summer, I was traveling through America. About ten days into the trip, I started dealing with this persistent cough that would only flare up whenever I laid down—whether it was heading to bed for the night or just settling in on a beach towel. It felt pretty strange to me, honestly. I wasn't running a fever, my throat didn't feel scratchy, and I didn't have that heavy, wiped-out feeling you usually get when the flu hits. It was just this one weird symptom.
The cough was just so relentless that I found myself hacking away until 5 in the morning—and mind you, I don't even smoke. It was one of those frustrating things where if I actually got up and moved around, it would settle down for a bit, only to come roaring back the second I tried to lie down again. Honestly, looking back on my life, I can't remember ever dealing with a cough quite this intense.
Finally, on May 8th—which happened to be a holiday here in the States—I just couldn't take it anymore. I finally bit the bullet and headed straight to the ER in Bakersfield.
I pulled up to the clinic around 7:45 in the morning. There were about five or six people already ahead of me in line. I went up and asked if the doctor had actually started seeing patients yet—since the sign on the door clearly says they open at 7:00—but everyone just told me he wasn't in yet.
I was walking down the hallway, a few doors down from where I was sitting, when I started hearing this burst of noise and laughter coming from around the corner. I decided to head over that way, mostly because I wanted to check if the doctor had actually started his rounds yet. When I got there, I found four nurses, two custodial staff members, and an ambulance driver all gathered together. They were just sitting there, sipping coffee and having a good laugh. I made sure to give a polite knock first—didn't want to be rude or interrupt their break too abruptly—and apologized for the intrusion. I just asked if the doctor was seeing patients yet, since the waiting room was absolutely packed.
So, I was talking to one of the nurses earlier, and she actually looked me right in the eye and asked, "What's the big rush? Why couldn't this wait until tomorrow or even the day after?" Honestly, it’s funny how people react when you're trying to get things moving.
I ended up feeling a little caught off guard, so I just told her that I didn't really want to bore everyone with my health issues and that I was just looking to see a doctor. Her response? She basically told me, "Fine then, go stand outside and wait in line like everyone else. We don't have time for social cases like you here."
I honestly just lost my cool for a second there. I told her straight up that we were done talking—there was just nothing left to say between us. I let her know that if she wanted to continue this conversation, she’d have to go through her manager instead. At that point, I decided to be completely professional about it; I gave her my full name and asked her to do the same. I figured if I'm going to sit down and file a formal complaint later, I need her actual name on the paperwork so I can hold her accountable.
It was right around the end of my coffee break when things started getting weird. Most of the staff had already stood up to head back to their stations, but this one woman just sat there for a second before she completely lost it. She started screaming "Van!" at the top of her lungs, totally hysterical. I wasn't even inside the room—everything was happening right by the doorway—but I felt stuck. I couldn't exactly walk out while she was spiraling like that, and then, before I knew it, she just bolted out of the room and vanished. Honestly, who knows where she went.
It took about fifteen minutes of waiting before I finally made it to the front of the line and stepped into the exam room. To be honest, I couldn't quite tell if the doctor was an intern or not—she had that certain vibe about her—but hey, who am I to question the expertise of medical professionals?
So, an outpatient clinic basically looks like this: just a single room where a nurse and a doctor sit at a desk, facing one another. Patients—or whoever happens to be coming through those doors—just drift in and out pretty smoothly. It’s a very low-key, steady flow without any real chaos or fuss.
So, I just gave her the rundown on my symptoms and everything I’d tried to throw at them. Honestly, I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but I ended up taking pretty much every cough suppressant and syrup we had sitting in the medicine cabinet at the time. I even went through an entire bottle of Albuterol. It wasn't until I hit that point—where nothing else was touching the congestion—that I finally realized I had to go see a doctor.
She just shot back at me with, "Look, if your Albuterol isn't doing the trick, you seriously need to head to the ER!" So I just looked her right in the eye and said, "Fine then, send me to the hospital." Honestly, I think she was hoping the mere mention of a hospital would spook me enough to make me run off and follow her advice, but that wasn't going to happen.
The nurse pointed me toward the exam table to have my lungs checked out. I actually hesitated for a second, mostly because I was thinking that before I started undressing, maybe one of the nurses would step out and lock the door or something—you know, just to stop the constant stream of people walking in and out. But apparently, stripping down right in front of a crowd is just business as usual for them.
The doctor pressed her stethoscope against my left shoulder blade—hardly more than three seconds—and then moved it right over my heart for about the same amount of time. She let out this big sigh and just told me, "Your lungs are as clear as a sunny day."
So, I was feeling pretty great, honestly—just telling her how much better everything felt! But then she asks me, "Well, if you're so good, why on earth are you coughing so much?" She actually suggested that maybe there might be fluid in my lungs. I just looked at her and said, "If my lungs were full of fluid, I don't think I'd feel this 'great,' would I? You'd definitely hear it." At that point, the poor woman just gave up. It was one of those moments where I realized she really didn't have a clue what she was talking about. She just stared at me and admitted, "I honestly don't know what's going on with you. This is strange, and I've truly never seen a case quite like this before." So, I decided to pivot and asked if it could possibly be some kind of allergy. That actually got her excited again, and she was all like, "Oh, absolutely, that's definitely a possibility!"
I realized there was just no point in arguing with someone who hasn’t dealt with a "situation" like this before, so I decided to stop engaging. Honestly, I've already spent way too much energy listening to nonsense!
She just grabbed a pen and started scribbling down prescriptions (I guess that's about the only thing she's actually good at).
So, I walked away with an antibiotic, an antihistamine, and an antitussive. At that point, if you'll excuse my language, I would have swallowed just about anything just to make the Cough stop so I could get one single night of peaceful sleep!
Another thing—after finally hunting down the number for the 24-hour pharmacy in San Diego on my phone (since neither the doctor nor the nurse had a clue), I drove all the way there, only to realize I had to drive right back to the clinic. The doctor completely forgot to electronically send over the prescriptions, and you can't pick up medication without valid orders.
To top it off, they billed me for an "extended consultation" at $8.00, even though a standard visit is only $4.00 per the price list. I have no idea what was so "extended" about my appointment, considering she didn't even bother to use a tongue depressor!
Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to sound stingy. The actual cost isn't the issue—$8.50 is nothing when we're used to paying $16.00 elsewhere—it's more about the quality of the service I actually received!
In the end, surprise, surprise: none of those medications did a lick of good. The Cough just sort of "settled down" to a tolerable level on its own after about fifteen days.
I still have no clue what was wrong with me, and I probably never will.
This whole odyssey was a total nightmare for me. I really feel for anyone who needs a doctor in our "beautiful country." It's not even because of the illness itself, but because of all this bureaucratic nonsense and the blatant rip-offs that follow any visit to these medical facilities.
It’s so exhausting when you're already feeling sick, having to practically bow down to various nurses, doctors, and all that medical and administrative staff just to access basic healthcare!
Look, I get it. I know money is tight, the equipment is outdated, working conditions aren't great, and salaries are low. I hear all the excuses for why the service can't be "top-tier," but I also know that a kind word and a little empathy don't cost a dime, and they mean the world to someone who's suffering.
