Fun times in medical hell

So I went in for my CAT scan yesterday. And that is a memory which will live in infamy in the deep, dark recesses of my nightmares. Ok, maybe it wasn't THAT bad, but it was still an ordeal. But you know what they say - bad times usually make good stories.

So I had called my friend Sandy to see if her driver was available to take me to my appointment. Luckily he was, but it was gonna be close timing-wise since Sandy and her three sons all had dentist appointments which were supposed to end just before I needed to leave for my appointment. Well, LUCKILY they came straight from the dentist's to my house. I say luckily because had Sandy not been there to go into the Clinica with me, it would have been an even bigger nightmare. As it was, Sandy was able to help me through the first few hoops I had to jump through.
We entered the building, and fairly easily found the sign pointing to the Tomographia (CT Scan) area. Technically the building itself is called a Clinica, which made me think it would be like a clinic in the US - a smaller, specialized medical building. Well this place was a big ol' zoo! Not as big as a hospital, but much bigger than a clinic. To top it off, it was textbook organized chaos. Once you figured out how everything works, yes, it kind of makes a convoluted kind of sense, but to just walk into it was sensory overload. There were people milling around in all sorts of lines, and there were people sitting in waiting areas governed by a number system. After waiting at the "Tomographia" desk for several minutes, we learned that I had to first pay for my procedure at a different place. So we tracked down that place, only to be told that we need to get a number to be able to pay, and the numbers were only available at reception. So we trucked back to reception and got a number and walked back to the pay area. At this point Sandy left, made sure I had her phone number, and wished me the utmost luck.
So I waited for about 30 minutes until my number was called. In my pathetic halting Spanish I was able to give the woman behind the glass my information (on its own, speaking to someone behind a giant pane of glass is difficult. Try doing it in a foreign language you haven't even begun to master!). I think she glossed over a lot of the information that's usually required, and I noticed that my birthday got listed as October 2, 1978, but beggars can't be choosers. So once you give the woman your information, she then prints out a sheet that needs to be taken to the cashier. Now, when I initially made this appointment, I asked how much it would cost. I was informed that it would be 6000 pesos, which is just over $200. Pretty damn steep for an unemployed sponge, but still better than the 10,000 pesos I was quoted by the other two places I called. So imagine my surprise when the cashier told me to pay 10, 200 pesos! Yeah, 6000 plus the cost of the dye used in the procedure, plus the cost of administering the dye. Luckily I had taken every single peso that I had to the appointment with me, but when he gave me the total, I honestly didn't know if I had enough. As I counted it out, I serious had just - JUST - enough to pay for it. I brought every single peso I had with me, and I left with 200 pesos in my pocket. That's about six dollars. Yikes.
So having averted that disaster, I then went back to the "Tomography" desk, showed them that I had paid, and was given a number and told to sit down. After another 30 minutes of waiting, I finally got called in.
Then ensued a farcical episode in which I didn't understand which articles of clothing the nurse wanted me to remove and basically ended up being undressed by the nurse who then laughed as I fumbled with the gown and tried to get me to give her my shirt (I think she seriously wanted me to give her my shirt!). I was told to sit as the nurse put a giant needle into my arm where the dye injection would eventually go. I was led into a sub-zero waiting area and told to consume four glasses of water. While chugging and freezing my arse off, I kept hearing all these alarms going off and was, admittedly, more than a little intimidated by this needle sticking in my arm and the thought of some creepy dye eventually going into me.
Finally they came to get my cold butt and water-logged belly and took me into the room where the CT scans were done. Of course, the nurse again spoke no English, so I just kind of had to do what I thought he wanted me to do and hope I was doing it right. I lied down and he had me put my arms over my head, he then attached the dye tube to the needle in my arm and, holy uncomfortable feeling of the stuff being injected! Yeah, it hurt, and man, did it ever hurt, but it wasn't so much the pain as it was just...freaky. I did not like it, not one little bit. So then the machine starts to whirr and a voice comes on through an intercom on the machine. A voice not only through a crappy intercom, but in Spanish. So, of course, I have no freaking idea what was just said to me. I figured it was probably telling me to be still, and hey, if I was doing something wrong, eventually somebody would come in and tell me so, right? So the machine whirred and clicked and then my arm throbbed again as they must have pushed the button that squirts even more creepy dye into my system. Except then I had a strange cool feeling at the back of my head. When the nurse came in to let me out of the machine, he discovered that the dye tube had leaked, and was coating the back of my head and part of my back. Now, it's not an actual dye - it's not bright green or anything (as I had pictured it), it's clear, but that was a small condolence considering that my head was soaked in it. Luckily enough dye had gone into my system and we didn't have to repeat the process. So I was told it was ok and I could go.
I went and changed back into my clothes, and sat down at the nurse's station to have the needle removed from my arm. Well the nurses went to and fro, and to and fro, and to and fro, and after about 20 minutes I finally had to flag one down and ask for it to be removed.
And at long last I was free to go - and FLEE I did!

Phew.