That’s So Polish: The Killer Draft

While many of us have heard (or may believe) that drafts can cause colds, it is only in Poland that I learned drafts can kill.

I would laugh it off as an individual’s idiosyncrasy except that I have heard it many times from many different people. The stories are usually about my friend’s sister’s neighbor’s cousin’s uncle’s baby who died because of a draft. While horrible as that story may be (and I don’t recommend putting babies to sleep under open windows), a draft alone will not do you in.

I decided to investigate the situation and according to Google, the source of all my health information, long-term and repeated exposure to drafts can make you more susceptible to illness, but the draft in and of itself does not make you sick.

I also think we should clarify what we mean by draft. A draft in my opinion is a cold, unpleasant blow of air usually from an open window or door or in an old house. A draft “po polsku” seems to be any movement of air when you have 2 or more windows open in your home. Draft is przeciąg in Polish not to be confused with pociąg which is something else entirely.

So drafts do not cause colds. There is no medical reason why I cannot open windows in all the rooms of my home simultaneously. In my opinion, stuffy is not better than drafty and so far (knock on wood or unpainted wood as it is in Polish), no one in our family has been the victim of a deadly draft. Scratch that. My mother-in-law’s window slammed shut and broke after an unfortunate draft incident. Don’t ask, it was all Dziadek’s fault.

On a side note, depending on who you talk to you shouldn’t eat ice cream or drink cold drinks when the weather is too cold or…..too hot for that matter. Yes, I have heard it both ways.

And apparently, if you eat a lot of rich foods your liver will hurt.

And a cure for bladder and kidney ailments is warm underwear (not antibiotics).

And vodka kills germs (this one is probably true).

Na zdrowie!

So you wanna have a baby in Poland…

So, you wanna have a baby in Poland.

You should start from choosing your hospital.

After you have chosen your hospital, you should choose an OB/GYN associated with that hospital. Your OB/GYN will perform some tests, give you some vitamins and wish you luck in getting pregnant. Your OB/GYN will not actually come to the hospital for your child’s birth, but at least you can allude yourself that the thousands of zloty you have paid your OB/GYN will make him/her feel morally obliged in some way.

Actually, I’m wrong. You shouldn’t start from the hospital or the OB/GYN. You should start from checking your bank account for sufficient funds.

I suppose that is a good place to start anywhere, not only in Poland.

In my case (funds secured), I chose the “baby” hospital where I had unfortunately spent some time in the scary “interna” section a few years back. It only made sense to then choose the boss of the hospital, the Ordinator (sounds cool, like The Terminator), as my private doctor. I made a pre-pregnancy visit and we were rolling.

We, however, suffered a false start which landed me in the hospital. I knew the situation didn’t look good but was still taken aback when the sonogram technician informed me that “You, ma’am, are no longer pregnant”. Too bad for me that the bad news was delivered just as another patient opened the door, asking “Można?”. I quickly covered my bloody legs in shame. I didn’t even have a moment to myself to think about what I had just been told. I had to hurry up as a line was forming. I quickly dressed as I had undressed, blood and all, in front of 2 technicians while patients peeked their heads in to check if it was their turn yet. They have the “rodzić po ludzku” campaign, maybe they should have “miscarry po ludzku” too.

I was admitted, the next day given the “standard procedure” and sent home on the 3rd day. My papers indicated I had occupied a bed for 3 days which is important because the hospital doesn’t get paid for stays under 3 days. 5 days is better.

I was placed in a room with 5 other women, 4 of whom were recovering from hysterectomies and one other who was waiting for hers. In case you have never been hospitalized in Poland, you should know that patients love to talk about their illnesses and operations, the more gruesome the better. The ladies in the room were a bit annoyed that I wasn’t holding up my end of the conversation and by the second hour in that room, I went to the nurses station and asked to be moved to another room.

My doctor immediately agreed (benefit of going to his private practice). He had not wanted to place me anywhere near the baby ward and he thought I wouldn’t understand what the ladies were jabbering on about. I was placed in a double room with a university student who was waiting to get a cyst removed from her leg (and yes, she showed me the cyst). Not very gynecological in my opinion, but she seemed happy even after they had re-scheduled her operation for the third time. She was missing her exam session at uni. I think that was the point. What an wasteful way to get out of your exams.

Anyhow, I was not allowed to eat or drink prior to my procedure which was not a problem considering how bad hospital food is. The next day, I was led to the procedure room by a very nice doctor who later was the doctor at my first birth. I was surprised to see 5 people in the room besides myself. That seemed like a lot for something they assured me was routine. The anesthesiologist began to fill out the forms with me. Name, address, date of birth, PESEL…All was well until - “Czy pani jest na czczo?”

I had never heard na czczo before and couldn’t even ask the doctor what it meant. I told him in Polish that I didn’t understand and asked him to ask me another way. He asked, “Czy pani jest na czczo?” Hmm, that didn’t seem to be another way but just the same way as before. I repeated that I didn’t understand and could he ask me in another way (czyli innaczej). He asked me louder. Then, he asked me slower. After that he asked me louder and slower. I still replied that I didn’t understand. He turned to the other doctor and asked if I had bumped my head (really). That I did understand and I reminded him that I’m not Polish. C’mon, duh, he filled in my very-not-Polish name on the form. Anyhow, the other doctor, Dr. Nice, asked me if I had had anything to eat or drink (czyli na czczo) to which I replied no, and we were rolling.

I hopped on the table and a man sat down in front of me and with no greeting (excuse me) spread my legs. I immediately sat up and asked who he was and what he was doing. (He thought I had bumped my head as well). He was still looking at me with no explanation when I asked by the way who the 5 people in the room were and what they were needed for. With a heavy sigh, he explained that Dr. Na Czczo was going to administer the anesthesia, Dr. Nice was to assist as were the two nurses who were opening a sterile kit which included, gulp, a saw (I am not kidding). I nodded and asked “A pan?” to which I got an exasperated reply, “I am the doctor!” I stuck out my hand as if to introduce myself and said “Ja jestem pacjentką, najważniejsza w tym pokoju”. He was not impressed.

Then Dr. Zblazowany asked me to sit back so Dr. Na Czczo could begin knocking me out. As the mask went on, Dr Na Czczo (whose intelligence was already in question) asked me (as is practice in administering gas) who the first king of Poland was. I answered “jakiś Bolesław ale pierwszy prezydent USA był Waszynton”. Next, he asked me to count backwards from 50. I told him that I could count back from 10, 5 times and he said to begin. I was out before cztery. I suppose they were relieved.

I woke up some time later in my room. Dr. Nice told me that “smacznie pani spała” and that I could go home the next day. I went to the shower room to get washed up. In the shower room, I met another lady who was intently observing me (which is BTW not cool in any shower/stranger situation but especially not cool in a hospital).

“Well,” she said as I struggled to somehow maintain my privacy, “what’re you in for?'”

“I was pregnant,” I replied.

She cackled, “Well with all that blood, I guess you aren’t anymore”.

Polish hospitals, gotta love ‘em.

I returned to my room where I set in to watch the soaps with roommate and waited till the next day to go home.

Communist Bastards

What a nice Mother’s Day I had. I received adorable wishes, cards and flowers from my girls (which was great) and information that Rosie did not pass through the first stage of pre-school recruitment (not so great).

We will take part in stage 2 of recruitment which means we put Rosie on the waiting list and hope that somebody drops out. Rosie, along with more than a thousand other 3-year-olds, didn’t get in so her chances of getting in are pretty slim.

I am not angry that I will have to pay for a nanny. I am not angry that I will have to enroll Rosie in a private pre-school which is well below the standard of Lizzie’s public pre-school. I am not angry that I will have to drop off my children to 2 completely different locations each morning and pick them up the same in the afternoon. No, I am angry at the educational opportunity for Rosie which is lost. I am angry that I will have to explain to Rosie why she cannot go to pre-school with her sister, why she cannot play in the playground with her sister, why she cannot go to the same lessons that her sister attends. That makes me furious.

Thank you commie bastards and your super duper polityka prorodzinna.

Lizzie says…

Lizzie says it is better to be a girl than to be a boy. This is from the girl who was mistaken for a boy twice today. I suppose it is partly because of her manner of dress (a dinosaur t-shirt and khaki shorts) and partly her behavior (climbing to the top of the jungle gym and jumping off the top). A girl she definitely is, just not a typical one I guess. She’s her own person – unique. That’s pretty darn cool.

For the latest school play, Lizzie will play Snow White. We already reserved the dress from the costume shop because unlike many of the little girls in her class, we don’t have a ready supply of princess costumes at home…and the stores are all out until Halloween/Carnival time next school year. If only they needed a Spiderman for the play, we’d be all set. I am glad that the teacher chose her for a princess role though. Lizzie never would have chosen that role for herself. It’s good for her to try something new.

For the Christmas play, Lizzie was a sheep with a group of other girls…or as we like to call them “disco sheep” because in the middle of a very somber play about the birth of baby Jesus, the group of sheep burst out in song and danced a little disco number. They have totally cool teachers.

Lizzie, however, was not very excited about being a sheep, disco or otherwise. There was one role that she wanted very badly, so badly she learned all the lines just in case the other child unexpectedly fell ill. She practiced every evening and took her job as understudy seriously even though the teachers hadn’t asked her to do it. And what was that coveted role, you ask? Joseph, of course. He had a very cool stick. Even this weekend, as Lizzie stood on stage in a restaurant we visited, she recited Joseph’s lines and then took a bow…maybe next year sweetheart.

cool restaurant for kids

I almost forgot…Lizzie says it is better to be a girl than to be a boy because you get to do more stuff and wear more kinds of clothes when you are a girl. You can play “boys” and “girls” games and wear “boys” and “girls” clothes, but boys kind of have to stick to the “boys” stuff or kids make fun of them.

An insightful little creature, isn’t she?

Women of Wroclaw, rejoice…

…for you have joined the civilized world.

Anesthesia during childbirth is now available to the women of Wroclaw.

And this time, they really mean it.

Read more here.

Such a headline could be read any given month over the last 5 years in Wroclaw (and elsewhere). The only problem with such an announcement is that until now access to anesthesia for birthing moms was purely hypothetical. The reason? Well, as the Polish saying goes - if you don’t know what it’s about, it’s about the money.

I am not suggesting that moms had to pay for anesthesia. That would have been too easy. Anesthesia, other than a shot of Dolargan* or in my case Vitamin B, was not available because there was no one to administer it…unless you needed (or “needed”) a c-section. Then you were good to go.

Hospitals are refunded a set amount of money for each procedure performed. That includes vaginal births and c-sections, respectively, no matter what resources are actually used in said birth. This amount, on average, is enough to cover the staff, equipment, drugs, etc. needed for each birth or c-section. Hospitals are strongly motivated then to use as few resources as possible with each birth. This system, in fact, would work just fine if not for the lack of anesthesiologists. Even if the hospital allowed patients to pay for the anesthesia, it is not possible to pay for the anesthesiologist.

So, it sounds like I am complaining. Boo-hoo, poor American mom gives birth in this 3rd world country. It was soooo painful and and they didn’t help me at all.

Not true. Ok, it was painful, but they did try to help me…somewhat. Didn’t I mention the Vitamin B shot?

I have given birth in Poland. Twice. Without anesthesia of any kind. I simply didn’t need it which was convenient because they weren’t offering it. Birth is painful. It is true. It is very painful even, but what was more distressing for me than the pain was my complete and total lack of options. You have to give birth i już. Koniec. Kropka.

And so I did. Misiu says that I did an excellent job as well. Don’t you know that I am Super Mom? I even have a t-shirt that says so.

Now if only Wroclaw could do something with its roads.

:)

*Demorol.

As Seen In Poland…

On our visit to the park with our kids, we could see a lot of cool gnomes and one not so cool bottle of wódka żołądkowa gorzka in the bushes. Booooo!

I guess this krasnal had to quickly ditch the bottle when he saw us coming. It’s always the ones you least expect ;)

As Seen in Poland…

A morning distraction on my commute to work is Antonio Banderas -the latest installment in a bank ad campaign which features internationally famous faces.

Apparently “Poles know what’s best” and what is best is cash loans from 5.99% interest (it is also best if you don’t read the fine print).

¡Olé!