my friend Magaly goes to the Doctor

My friend Magaly is Cuban, but she has been living with her daughters in Spain. She's just arrived back in Havana, and we are happy to reconnect, and we meet at her house before we go to the next concert of the Festival. After some conversation, Magaly says, " I'm going to go and see the Doctor before we go to the concert. "

It's 3 pm and the concert is at 5. "What time is your appointment?" I say casting her a quizzical look.

"I should probably call, but let's just go, we'll take the dog."

So we stroll by the decaying colonial houses (mixed with a few modern apartment blocks), neighbors standing and chatting on the sidewalk, children playing.

At an open portico of a more modern (as opposed to colonial, although dilapidated like all the others) building, we turn in. Two women sit at either side of a cluttered narrow desk. Magaly greets them both with kisses to the cheek. And since she has just come from Spain she has presents for them both. The one in the white jacket is a nurse, she gets a roll of cookies. The other, in a beige sleeveless top, is the Doctor. Magaly has brought three brightly colored knit tops for her. There are protestations, then thanks, hugs and kisses. Then conversation – the doctor's plans to visit her sister in Miami, updates on family members all around.

Finally Magaly gets to her own heath – her irritated tongue, her red eyes. She is diabetic, is it a problem with her blood sugar? The Doctor takes her blood pressure, and looks at her tongue and eyes (this is all over the desk, the nurse takes some notes on an official notepad. ) The Doctor writes a prescription, and some instructions for Magaly on the back of some old handbills. Tells Magaly that tomorrow she must go to the hospital for a blood test. Goodbyes, with more hugs and kisses. By this time, someone else is waiting, just outside the door, Magaly knows this person too. Then we walk a block (still with the dog) to an unmarked building that is the phararmcy. Rough hewn wooden drawers contain bottles, and boxes of pills. The prescriptions cost pennies.

Like everything in this country, it is not efficient. Every neighborhood has a doctor who is your doctor, and who knows you – and knows you well! That you can drop in on – no need for an appointment, no need to pay.

Sure – what happened there was small – one part of the process, since my friend needs to go somewhere else for her blood test, the next day. But imagine having a doctor who is not pressed for time, not anxiously edging to the door or obviously trying to think about 3 or 4 things at once. To have this kind of connection with a doctor is part of what gives the Cuban health care system its success – success as measured in its high rates of longevity, and its low rates of infant and maternal mortality (according to statistics provided by the CIA https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/index.html)