The lobby of Dr. Sulaiman Al Habib Hospital, Takhassusi, in Riyadh.

This was a most unusual Thanksgiving, spent in a Saudi Arabian hospital to have surgery on my broken big toe, on which a 15-pound frozen turkey had dropped when the “handle” came apart in my hand.

I had spent four painful hours in the ER on Sunday, the day of the accident, and thought I could hobble around for six weeks while it healed, but unfortunately the foot surgeon felt differently and because of the nail that had been broken at the base, said I urgently needed an operation. That was a bit of a shock, but I was admitted early (for Saudi Arabia) the next morning and had surgery that same day. I’m told the operation went well but that now the big concern is about infection, and we have discovered that I’m allergic to more than just penicillin, which is a problem.

Anyway, the point of this narrative wasn’t to talk about my injury, but rather to share some observations of spending three days in a private Saudi hospital. I would have to say that most of the staff – especially the nurses – were incredibly friendly, very helpful and technically competent. Every nurse I met was from the Philippines and had come to the kingdom with promises of a high salary and also due to a glut of nurses in the market at home. They didn’t always (if ever) get as much money as promised, but said it was more than they could earn at home, so stayed on as long as their contract allowed.

The doctors were quite a mix of nationalities – my surgeon was Saudi but American-educated (nine years) and was in fact offered a staff position at Johns Hopkins right after he returned to Riyadh and had signed a contract with this hospital. What a delightful and engaging person; I wanted to get a picture of him but never seemed to have a camera handy when he was around. Maybe I can manage that on a follow-up visit. Other doctors were from all over, including Jordan, Libya, Syria, Yemen and even Spain. The Saudi physicians wore a traditional thobe and shemagh at work, while the foreign doctors wore Western attire.

One hears about how Saudis don’t want to work, but I’m not sure I believe that as there was a large number of them, both men and women, employed at this hospital. The men mainly handled information and administrative desks for the public, while the women did some of the same as well as working in customer relations and such. Again, thobe and shemagh were required dress for men, while the women wore niqab (full face covering) and a black abaya with snazzy red trim. Female technicians wore niqab and scrubs; the gown for female patients was floor length and fastened modestly in back. Any time a person wanted to enter my room, they would knock and say “As-salamu alaykum” (Peace be upon you), to which my response is “Wa-alaikum-salaam” (And upon you peace). If a male doctor was coming into my room, a female nurse always announced him in advance. I was once asked if I wanted to put my headscarf on (I said no).

Although I feel the care was good here, the one thing that really stood out was that nothing ever happened quickly or as scheduled, but rather on “Saudi time,” which as a Westerner I found incredibly frustrating. The day before I was admitted I was told to arrive at 9 a.m. to see an orthopedic surgeon; he finally showed up at 9:30. My surgery was scheduled for 11 a.m. and the operating theater was booked for 11-1, but I wasn’t even wheeled out of my room until 11:30 or operated on until at least 12:30. I kept pressing them for a discharge time on Saturday, but my American-trained surgeon was reluctant to commit, and in retrospect I can understand why: I had to see several doctors about antibiotics, then have blood drawn, then be given more IV antibiotics, then have more blood drawn, wait for the results, wait for the official discharge, see the billing office (far cheaper than in the States, I’m sure, but yikes, still a lot of money), go to the pharmacy… I finally got out about 5 p.m.

Something I actually enjoyed here, when not confined to my room, was people watching. I had heard that this hospital was more frequented by foreigners, but really, I would say there are far more Saudi patients. I saw whole families, groups of women chatting, men visiting with friends, children romping, drivers lining up to deliver or retrieve their bosses’ wives, service people wheeling large gold carts (like you have in fancy hotels) filled with huge bouquets, boxes of chocolate, balloons and such, out to waiting SUVs. It was a microcosm of Riyadh, full of activity and life, and fascinating to watch. I wasn’t able to get many pictures in the lobby, unfortunately, due to the prohibitions against photographing people without their permission, but maybe I can find a way to delay leaving for a little while and hang out with my cell phone and catch a few crowd shots. If
not, well, there’s always the next time here!

The Narcissus Hotel, posted earlier: