Hospitals - Having a baby in Spain

Last night my daughter gave birth to her second child in the hospital in Denia. On the 45 minute drive to the hospital which is our nearest, I wondered how on earth emergencies make it on time. I was later reminded of a recent case where a British guy living in the Jalon Valley had phoned for an ambulance and was told there was a delay and he would have to drive himself. He got ten minutes down the road to Alcalali and had a massive heart attack at the wheel of his car.

On arrival at the hospital, an hour later than my daughter Coral and her boyfriend Ylli, we were told in A&E that we couldn’t go through to the maternity unit. Whilst loitering about wondering what to do, we happened to spot Ylli further up the corridor who told us how to get round to the unit. However, he too had been denied access and had no idea what was happening inside. The unit itself is behind a locked door, meaning you have to wait until someone comes out to be able to make an enquiry about anyone inside.

Coral does not speak much Spanish, so I knew how anxious she would be feeling on her own in there, especially as her labour was quite advanced when she arrived. An hour or so later, a midwife informed us that one of us could go in and see her. She was sitting upright on a chair at a desk, still in t-shirt and trainers with a sheet wrapped round her waist, whilst the doctor informed us that they didn’t have her notes and would have to repeat urine and blood tests that had been taken only three days before. They then gave her a scan, all the while telling her ‘tranquila’ (calm down). Once the tests were complete, we were told to walk down the corridor to a spare room where she could lie down. In this advanced stage, and still with no pain relief, I requested a wheelchair as Coral was convinced she couldn’t walk, but our request was greeted with a withering look that said ‘what a fuss you are making’ – we had to walk.

Once Coral was settled on the bed, I was told I had to leave, as only the father could be present from then on. Although we understood that only one person could be in the room at any given time, we had intended to take turns as both her brother and sister were also there to support her. Very different from the birth of her son in the UK, where there were five of us in the room during labour, and my own births – none of which had less than three present.

Whilst waiting in the most boring corridor on earth, we saw other couples arrive, but only the women were admitted to the unit whilst the men waited outside. I suppose it was like this in Britain many years ago, but we have been brought up in a time and a country where families, and even friends, are involved in the birth of a child.

During the next five hours, no-one came out to let us know what was happening. We tried knocking on the door a couple of times but were either ignored, or told to go away. We were unable to leave the ‘waiting corridor’ to go to the drinks machine or to have a cigarette, as there were so many people lying on gurneys on the way to the exit, that we were told we would disturb them and would be unable to get back in.

Then we heard the screams and knew that a baby was being born. Two Spanish women waiting near us complained about the noise, we told them to shut up. An hour later the baby was bought to the door of the unit but was quickly taken away again. We were told that if we waited another hour, Coral and the baby would be taken to a room on the ward and we could see them. An hour and half later we were informed that it was too late and that we should come back at 9am. When we left the hospital after 3am, we had no idea how Coral was, how much the baby weighed or where they had been taken. I have photos taken at, and directly after the births of all of mine, and my first grandson, but not this one.

This morning Coral phoned and although all is well, informs me that she will never have another baby in Spain. Despite requesting and being denied pain relief, she was told shut up, stop crying and calm down during labour and birth, was made to walk from the labour room to the delivery room 10 minutes before giving birth, and felt that she was treated very badly by unsympathetic midwives and doctors.

Had we been born in a different country, we may well have found the treatment of both Coral and ourselves acceptable. Spain is supposedly a family orientated country, but in this instance the family were treated like bothersome nuisances. Maybe we have been spoilt in Britain, but having had three births of my own, and attended two of others, I am used to a very different attitude. I know there are reports of NHS hospitals leaving people in corridors on gurneys, but I have never seen it for myself. Some of these poor souls were hooked up to monitors and ventilators, and had just been left haphazardly in passageways all over the hospital.

This has been one of the most frustrating and infuriating episodes of my life, and for the first time in four years I wonder what the hell I’m doing here. Despite being the only hospital in the area, it is in need of modernisation, more beds, more human resources - and the staff should be injected with a dose of ‘bedside manner’ - even the ambulances parked outside seem to have only the most basic necessities inside. I now dread the thought of myself or my children becoming ill and needing a hospital. NI, or ‘Autonomo’ contributions are compulsory for self employed workers at 226 Euros per month, which covers health care and hospital treatment, private medical is approximately 550 per year. In order to avoid the likes of Denia hospital, I know which way I’ll be going in future.

Telefonica – the bane of my life

I would love to hear from anyone who has a good word to say about them. I used to think it was because we were English, but the Spanish also complain about them. I live in dread of having to phone directory enquiries because I know that my simple request could drag on for days, weeks – or in the case of ADSL – months.

Until recently, when you dialled 1004 for an operator, you waited for the electronic voice to say ‘Diga me’ (meaning ‘tell me’ in Valenciano) upon which time you shout ‘Hablas Ingles’, meaning you want to speak to someone in English. Then you get the awful piped music which has been the same for four years - ‘na na na - na na na - na na na na na na na - na na na - na na na…etc, (I think it was designed in the hopes that people would cut off rather than listen to it ) which you could listen to for 10 minutes – only to be found that you are then cut off and have to start again. They have very few English speakers, so the wait can be long. Now it has been changed to a fully automated system where you press 1 for this, 2 for that – but if you don’t understand what each option is saying you can go round in circles for ever – only to be cut off at the end of it.

ADSL is another matter. Any queries must be directed to the technical department where there are no English speakers. If you have a problem, and you don’t speak very good Spanish, you will need someone to make the call for you – or pay Telefonica 85 Euros to come out and check it. This would be a mistake as 99% of the problems are at their end anyway.

With Telefonica the customer is never right. If you complain, they will just cut you off. They have the monopoly and with no competition as yet, they treat their customers very badly. I have worked in a call centre in the UK, where all customer enquiries/complaints are logged, so that anyone else answering a call from the same customer can check the database to see what the enquiry is about and how another operator has tried to assist. Not so with Telefonica, no matter how many times you call, they have no record of any previous calls, or what the enquiry was about. The same enquiry can get you many different answers – none of which are very helpful.

In my business, property sales and rentals, I have to be able to answer enquiries at all times, and have five websites to control, therefore I need an ADSL connection at work and at home. As some areas still do not have telephone lines, even in an established area like the Jalon Valley, I suppose I am lucky that I have it at all, but I have moved home quite a few times in four years and each time the scenario is the same – a bloody nightmare. Now I am moving offices, which probably means I will be unable to work at the new one for the next eight weeks.

First you have to arrange the ‘alta’ and the ‘baja’, disconnection of existing line and reconnection at the new place. You cannot pre-order the ADSL connection, nor can you have a new line until your old one is disconnected. Despite calling 10 days in advance (which is the required time), the line is never disconnected on time, meaning you cannot have a phone line in the new place. You cannot request your ADSL until the new phone line has been installed and switched on (there is a 24 hour delay between installation and a working phone). ADSL then takes 21 days, which in my case has been up to eight weeks each time. Despite the fact that it is a business line, they just take their own sweet time. Meanwhile, you are making endless calls to find out the problem, and each time the operator will give you a different story – it is on, the problem must be your computer – the telephone pole is too far from your house, we can’t install it – we have no record of you ordering it – you cancelled it last week………., the list goes on and on. Meanwhile na na na - na na na, is installed into your dreams and Telefonica brings out the violent side of your nature - even if you don't normally have one.

Living in Spain - The Corre Foc

The Corre Foc – Run with fire - Dance of Fire or ‘Night of Hellfire’

Throughout Spain at any time of year there are many firework displays. Far superior to the type of firework displays we are used to in the UK, many thousands of Euros are spent on any given display and they are magnificent. On top of these, no Spaniard needs an excuse to string up a row of firecrackers – a wedding, a funeral, a birth, a holy day – whatever the reason, firecrackers are a way of life. These are not like our British bangers, more like bombs exploding, which cause your insides to shake with each bang. There can be hundreds attached to strips of rope which are hung like garlands across the small village streets. Often you are given no prior warning, and those who have parked beneath them may end up with a few scorch marks!

The Correfoc however is something else. This is a spectacular display which should not be missed by any passing tourist. These fantastic shows are organised by companies who specialise in theatrical fireworks and travel around Spain offering their services at local fiestas.

Not all Corre Foc’s are the same, the quality will depend on the company providing it, and the amount that the individual village or town is willing to pay.

It is difficult to describe to someone who has never been, but imagine packed streets, with masked ‘demons’ running through the crowds throwing fireworks in all directions, specially constructed Dragons with flames exploding from their nostrils and eerie background music and you’re half way there.

Head projection is necessary unless you like bald patches, and old clothes are advised. Whilst we advise our children in the UK not to play with fireworks – the Corre Foc encourages it. Some are far better than others, and one of the best I have seen was in La Xara, Denia. The show begins by a large bull on wheels being set fire to and pulled into the crowd – move or get burnt! Trying to video it whilst running backwards to get away amidst a mass of other people was not a good idea. However, somehow I managed it without getting stampeded by either bull or humans.

Whilst the bull proceeds in one direction, masked men on unicycles with huge spinning umbrellas wielding lit roman candles are coming at you from the other. All the children gather under the umbrellas, and follow the cyclists, with sparks flying all over them. Bangers are thrown into the crowds and masked men run wildly amid the crowds with spinning Catherine wheels fixed to structures attached to their clothing, whilst people are getting drunk and dancing to ‘Chiuaua’.

After a long and spectacular display lasting around 45 minutes, the street lights are turned off and the people go quiet. A stage, built on 3 levels and 20 ft high plays host to the grand finale. Eerie music is projected from speakers all around, and demons and devils appear on each level of the stage. The whole construction is just one big mass of fireworks as the Corre Foc draws to a close at 2am.

10 minutes later the street disco begins and the makeshift street bars open – now its party till dawn!