The Gate to Doha - a medical test

The medical exam (required for a resident's permit) I went to on Monday and its harsh and regimented approach was a fascinating view of life from a Sheep's perspective. 


Cornell University (Ross's employer) escorted me to the "Medical Commission at 8:15 am on a very hot (there is nothing other than very hot!) Monday morning and the place was swarming with potential Qatar residents (we the sheep).  There were two entry points; one for men and one for women (rams and sheep are kept separate).  We struggled to enter the women's door as it was surrounded by men trying to get in (tell me what!!??).  The good thing was, other than the guard, there wasn't a single male inside terrorising the freed women. [My escort informed me that the male interest was due to the the men assisting their newly "imported" housemaids through the complicated Qatar entry requirements].


I dutifully took my number and waited for my turn for whatever to happen - 130 people later!  This took about 90 minutes but it was interesting.  This was everyone all together irrespective of income or status or religion: somehow I ended up minding an 11 Year old egyptian girl with intellectual disabilities.  Clearly she was as confused as I was albeit for different reasons.  To Miss 11, her mother had left the building, when would she return? To me, why in the heck didn't they tell Mother that cash was not acceptable and to purchase a pre-pay card?  Never mind, we enjoyed pointing to alternate pages in a book about Doha and smiling at each other.  Nonetheless, Mother and Miss seemed to get the first stage sorted after 30 minutes and joined me for "Station 1".


Station 1 was to be the chest X-ray.  Accordingly, "Station 1" was labeled as "Station 3" (clearly one entered Station 1 at Station 3).  I took my seat and again waited for my number - apparently not so.  In groups of 8 women we were shown into a small corridor and instructed to use the two change rooms to change into gowns (ha ha foresight and advice served me well here as I had worn a t-shirt so no changing was required).  Then.....we were all shown into the actual X-ray room.... it was frying time.  Clearly, this was not a good move so I, with Miss 11's Mother and Mother Europe and her 2 yr old daughter, quickly got ourselves over to where the radiologists were stations whilst some Indian woman was being fried on the machine.  With no common language available, Mother and Mother Europe became priority to the first frying and Miss 2 yr old Europe was clawed (not unpleasantly) from her Mother and put into my arms - we watched the process together through a glass window.  Finally, I was fried and pointed to "Station 2" which was in fact labelled as "Station 1".


Now "Station 2" would put all of NZ medical testing laboratories to shame.  Fifteen women were processed via the drawing, labelling and confirming identity of, one vial of blood within about a 12 minute time period.  Ok, yes, there were a few drops of blood on the ground but all was clean, quick and barely a prick.


Overall, quite an interesting experience.  It is times like these that one can begin to understand life from a sheep's perpective: you don't really know what is going on, you know that you will be looked after, and the outcome will be fairly painless (although only fatal for sheep).