Cuban exile writer Juan Abreu, who publishes the blog Emanaciones, recently learned a childhood friend had died in Cuba at age 67. He subsequently received more details about his illness and death in “the island of the Great Socialist Revolution and great medical powerhouse, according to shitty leftist progressives,” as Abreu puts it.
I have translated the main part of his post (for the original in Spanish, go here):
Several months ago he started suffering from urinary retention. He went to the doctor on call and they put a catheter in him and gave him an appointment with the urologist for a month later. They never changed the catheter during all that time.
When he went to see the urologist, he found that the latter was away on “internationalist missions.” The doctor who saw him instead, who was not a urologist, ordered some tests which showed anemia. A week later he was very weak, without the strength to walk or even get up out of bed; his wife took him to the hospital, and he was admitted.
They gave him three blood transfusions. All three failed, due to clotting because the blood was old or inadequately preserved; nobody knows. There were no more units of blood available, but they could be obtained for 10 CUC ($10) each. Those didn’t fail.
His kidneys stopped working and he was taken to the operating room to “drain” his kidneys. They were only able to do that for one kidney, because he had a cardiac arrest. They resuscitated him. The doctor told him he’d have to keep the drain, a hose coming out of his flank, for the rest of his life. He also told him he apparently had a bladder tumor, which would have to be confirmed with a biopsy, but since he’d already had a cardiac arrest that would be risky, so it would have to wait till he recuperated somewhat. They sent him home.
Eventually he could scarcely speak. His wife took him to the hospital. They didn’t do any more tests until he died.
We are talking, of course, about an ordinary Cuban, not a member of the nomenklatura. However, even the Maximum Bastard himself, with full access to the very best the Cuban medical system could offer, would have croaked much earlier if a specialist hadn’t been imported emergently from Spain to save his miserable ass. In other words, what “the people” get, especially if they can’t cough up extra (real) money or have what they need sent from abroad, is simply third-world “care,” such as it is, which may amount to no care.
But hey, not to worry: if the likes of Michael Moore are satisfied, there is no problem.