Halfway down the Danube

And I want it right now

A followup to this recent post by my dear wife.

She's right. Americans are squeamish about pain; Germans are squeamish about painkillers. Asking for painkilers, unless you're clearly in agony, is seen as moral weakness.

Exaggeration? Two data points.

(1) Eight hours after double hernia surgery, lying in the hospital bed. Nurse comes in. Hello nurse: can I have something for the pain, please? Nurse frowns. Well... we have eebu proFEEN. You can have one.

Pause while I process this. Eebu... Ibuprofin. Known to my people as Tylenol. We buy them at the drugstore in big American bottles, 200 at a time. I'm post-op for abdominal surgery and she's offering me a Tylenol. One Tylenol.

But do not argue with the German nurse, Doug, so "Yes, please, I would like an Eebuprofeen."

A couple of hours pass. Food is served. Let me add here that the service at the hospital -- a small one, in a German town of about 20,000 people -- was excellent in every other respect. Everyone was professional, the surgeon came to visit me twice, and when I woke up hungry at midnight the nurses scrounged up a snack for me. When food got served, I ate it and my plate got whisked away... no staring for two hours at the congealing remains of a poached egg. I asked for tea, got a big pot of really hot water and a selection of tea bags. And two weeks later, when I had some mysterious post-op symptoms, I called the hospital and the surgeon called me back (in Romania!) half an hour later. It's a good system.

Except: after dinner I ask the nurse again. Maybe something for the pain, please?

A deeper frown, this time. "I see that you have had an eebuprofeen already!"

I hang my head. Yes, it is true. I am weak. It's been nearly twelve hours since my abdominal surgery, and I want ANOTHER Tylenol. "Yes, please."

She breaks out a little push-packet of four pills. "Well. Here are eebuprofeens. Take one now. You can take another one in the morning." She looks at me a little dubiously -- who knows what the foreigner will do? Can he be trusted to handle three of these pills? -- and then puts them on the night table.

Can I just say? My dear wife's point about allowing a little pain... enough to keep you on your back when you should be on your back; enough to keep you from doing something stupid -- is valid. But the night after abdominal surgery, this is so not an issue. You could be doped to the gills on Flintstones Chewable Morphine, and you still would be lucky to manage a slow shuffle to the bathroom and back.

After the surgery, I stayed with my in-laws for three days before flying back to Romania. (Which was probably not such a great idea, but that's another story.) Later, my mother-in-law said to my wife:

"Yes, Doug was in a lot of pain! He was taking painkillers!"

(2) Two years ago, I made the mistake of going to a German dentist. I did not know then about the "anesthesia is a luxury" rule. These little cultural differences! Who can keep track of them all!

I'm going to make a long story short by saying, there are four words you really don't want to hear from your dentist:

"Now... be a hero!"

Possibly I've had two unusual encounters? German readers are welcome to comment.

(My limited experience with Romanian medicine is that they're closer to Americans than Germans in this respect. But it's very limited experience, and I welcome correction.)

Posted by douglas at April 10, 2005 12:10 AM