My Life in Azerbaijan - Azerbaijan Hospital

February 9, 2010
İ have read one of the Peace Corps important policies that if we, PCVs ever get sick, DON’T let any non-Peace Corps doctor minister us, DON’T take any medication from them and NEVER ever let them insert an needle in us. One of the reasons is because the corruption in the country. In Azerbaijan, anyone can obtain a medical doctor degree if he/she has the money to pay the bribe. Today, I uncovered another reason.

The little boy who lives across the street from us has been sick more than a week. He is not doing well and will have to remain in the hospital for at least another week. He is a cute little boy, only 10 months old. I hold him and play with him all the times and love him dearly. Yesterday, I went to see him in the hospital.

Standing in front of the hospital entrance, I was just astounded. The hospital buildings inside the gate looked more like some old Russian army dormatories. We entered into one of the old broken buildings throught the side entrance and found out all the doors were locked. We bang on the door for five minutes, and finally a woman wearing a dirty white gown came out and looked at us with a cold face. I was not sure she was a doctor or a nurse, but either case, I would dispel her from the hospital immediately. Her appearance was totally unacceptable by the American medical standard or any medical standard.

We climbed up to the 4th floor (yes, no elevator) with broken staircases here and there. Dim light passing through some high windows showed us the way. The hallway was dark, cold and ugly. The whole place did not look, feel, or even smell like a hospital. We passed some nurse stations and I was totally disgusted. The station looked more like the kitchen of Mr. Chow. I was further appalled when I walked into the little boy’s room. A moldy smell hit me as soon as I went in. By the corner was this poor little body lying on a bed full of filthy blankets. There were no white linens covering the mattress, pillows or blankets. There were no shades or curtains by the window. A big smutty blanket veiled a doorway and behind it revealed the dirtiest bathroom I ever saw in a hospital.

Inside the bathroom was a bathtub with yellow stains and broken pipes. There was no running water inside and the toilet was unusable, that was why the hospital using the blanket to block the entrance. Was I really in a hospital or this was merely a dream? With such a horrible condition, how the little boy was going to get better? I was angry first and later on, my anger turned into sadness.

These past few weeks, all the entries of my “blog” were nothing but bad thing about this country. I wanted to write something nice, positive or at least acceptable thing about this place. I tried and tried, but in vain…

The people of Azerbaijan suffer enough! How much can I really help? I ponder this question for a long long time. Maybe I am really just a drop of water in the ocean.