Today I got to see the other side of Dubai many people don't talk about. What an experience, is all I can say. To set the background, I was going through the process of getting my visa paperwork finished today. A right of passage for every resident of Dubai is to get a blood test and chest x-ray done by the government. The purpose of this is to test all residents for HIV and TB. First answer to the questiong already in your heads, YES you have to use the government hospital for this. Which is basically where this story takes place...
Luckily my husband had gone through the process a few weeks before so he had an idea of what we had to do, although his company got him to the front of the lines when he went so we had a huge learning curve. H's company advised us to have H dress in his uniform when we went, that way we might get priority and extra assistance. Is this fair? No, probably not, but if in the same situation, you would do the same.
We took a cab to the hospital. Its location was near the workers living accomodations. I think this area was the closest thing to the ghetto that Dubai has. I noticed that every building was owned by a company in Dubai; from hotel chains, to airlines and construction companies. Looking out the window I saw men dressed in their native clothing, a nice change from seeing them always in their company uniforms and jumpsuits. The area was very desolate, though, with very few amenities around. Although not shocking, it was very sad to see.
We entered the hospital and it was mayhem. Hundreds of people were crowded in the halls and waiting areas. The smell was not that of any hospital I had ever been in. Even though I had dressed ultra-conservatively I could feel the eyes of hundreds of men eyeing me. We found a security guard who pointed us in the direction of the "phlebotomy" section and yelled "Go register!" Register? What does that mean? We looked at each other in confusion when a man came up to my husband and ushered us to a desk. The man seemed as though he worked at the hospital. He took my documents and my passport and told us to take a seat. Not knowing whether we were being helped or being robbed we decided to have faith in the short Arab man, although we kept a glued eye on my passport. After about 10 minutes of the man pushing his way to the front of the "line" (I say line but it was more of a mob) and us joking that he probably didn't even work at the hospital, he returned with my documents and took us to the waiting area for the blood tests. To be fare, I don't think he actually pulled any strings for us, but we didn't have to brave the mob...that time.
After waiting for about 20 minutes my number was called to have my blood drawn. I entered the room where a few other women were sitting waiting for their number to be called. It was a great place to people watch, getting to see so many different types of people and from such diverse backgrounds. I felt an odd connection to these people, knowing we were all going through the same process for the same reason. My number was called after a couple of minutes and I entered the white lab room. The nurse had difficulty finding a good vein. After painfully prodding around my right arm veins, she decided to move to my left arm. "You have great veins," she said, "but they don't want to give me any blood!" Fantastic, I thought with dread. She continued to poke around my left arm veins and after finding "no blood" there either, she decided to try one more place on my left arm. Just as I felt horrified enough, another nurse came over and started discussing my veins, in Urdu, with the first nurse. They then proceeded to stick the needle in, while the second nurse grabbed my upper arm just above my elbow, and "pumped" my blood for me. I have never had a nurse squeeze my arm to get blood out! She removed the needle and as I looked down I saw a large lump above the needle point. Feeling slightly woozy from the experience they said "OK, all done. Go now." Ok, if I pass out in the hall or have a blood clot, it's on you lady!
(I must add, my husband found out how they actually test these samples they receive. Get ready to be disgusted. Apparently the get a group of samples and mix them together. If the results come back positive, everyone in the group gets a letter telling them they have HIV! You are then instructed to go back and get a new test. It happened to a few of H's colleagues and they were terrified and horrified when they discovered this.)
The rest of the appointment wasn't too crazy for me. I had to go to the x-ray department after my blood test. After sitting for a few minutes next to H, a security guard came over and yelled at everyone. Apparently the waiting area was divided into male and female sections and there were no exceptions. I luckily sat next to an Indian woman and her adorable 2 year old son. Funny enough, peek-a-boo is the same in every language. I was finally called in to get my chest x-ray done, but when I turned my documents into the woman she informed I was not registerd for the x-ray. Our friend had apparently skipped this part of the process. I ended up having to run out of the room and ask the "reception" (man at a small table outside of the x-ray room) where to go. He pointed me to the main reception, or madhouse, so I attempted to get any info I could out of the security guards there. Luckily they directed me to a desk where the man generously registered me quickly. After that I got my X-Ray done. (One funny thing I noticed was on my medical form. They instructed us to write in big letters "I confirm that I am not pregnant" instead of just ticking a box.)
Poor H had an even more interesting and frustrating experience than me. Due to the fact that he was in uniform, people were under the impression that he was staff or security. He was constantly hounded with questions of "What do I do now?" "Where is this building?" "Where do I go now?" "What does this mean?" Then once those questions started, workers were hounding him for jobs with his company.
"We are friends now, yes? You write me letter to get me a job? Yes! We are good friends and they will give me a job!" Unfortunately politeness didn't get him very far and he had to get a bit angry with them. One man even went to the extreme of waiting outside for us to leave and asked Zav for a picture of the two of them to send to the company. It's terribly sad and trying to explain to them that we couldn't do anything to help was heartbreaking and frustrating. That is something that is hard to deal with here. Every taxi driver has a sad story to tell as do the workers. We wish we could help all of them but there are just too many. We just try to tip them extra.
Anyways, that was my experience getting my medical check done for my visa. Good luck to those about to attempt this process!!
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