Misjudging a step or two on the stairway in the house...my son took a harsh stumble and ended up making a trip to the doctor this morning (12 hours after the fact). I might have gone to the emergency room last night, but that would be me making that decision.
I commented while on this drive over....things would be different in Alabama in this case. As a kid, in the old 'era'....you would have been given a fair bit of whisky to sip down, while relatives would have thrown a bale of hay into the back of some truck for you to lay on while driving to the county hospital. Four to six hunting dogs would have ridden with you in the rear, keeping you company.
Upon arriving at county 'general' hospital....some kind-hearted nurse gal (being a Baptist) would have done a prayer for you, then smelt your breathe with the whiskey and said it was the devil's work at hand. The doctor (WW II vet) would have looked over the x-ray and then wrapped you up in some 25-pound cast assembly.
But in this German reality? Well....you drive to some x-ray and bone guy (not the emergency room) and then sit and wait for three hours while they manage to find 12 minutes to do the x-ray and make some decision. Sitting in the waiting area are fifteen-odd folks who all seem to be hurting bad, and you sense their suffering at double the rate of your own.
There's not going to be any nurse gal to pray over you.
At the end of the day....the Alabama method of handling this situation might have been more understanding and peaceful (mostly because of the whiskey).
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