La Clínica el Buen Samaritano

     I work at the Good Samaritan Clinic in Garden City, which is just outside of Savannah.  It takes me about 15 minutes to get there, driving the 1996 Corolla that the Sisters of Mercy gave our community (which we have affectionately named "Aquaman" to distinguish it from the other two old blue-green sedans we have, named "the Hulk" and "Green Goblin").
     My experience with Good Sam really began on Tuesday morning when I went to the steering committee meeting.  It's really interesting working with such a new organization; the clinic will celebrate its 3rd birthday in October.  Thus, there's still a lot that needs to be figured out.
     The clinic only sees patients on Wednesday evenings and on the last two Tuesday evenings of the month.  We only see adults (ages 18 to 64) without any form of health insurance who make less than 200% of the federal poverty line.  We can't see women who are pregnant, but we can do pregnancy tests and then refer women to area hospitals for prenatal care.  We are the only clinic in the area that doesn't require ID/SSN, who has a bilingual staff (and lots of interpreters), and doesn't require people to live in a certain county.  Due to the first two points, we see a lot of Hispanics, many of whom are undocumented.  Due to the latter point, we see a lot of non-Hispanics, both black and white, who live rather far away (many people travel over an hour to get to us!).
     We're a primary care clinic, but we have certain specialists come sometimes (especially for GYN, eye exams, PT, OT, and cardiology).  A lot of our patients have diabetes, so we also have nutrition counseling.  We also perform a decent number of diagnostic tests, which are processed at one of the hospitals that we're associated with. We can also refer our patients to almost anything that we can't directly provide for them, mostly for free but otherwise for a reduced cost.
     We average about 22 patients per day when we're open.  The clinic is completely free for our patients.  We are part of the St. Joseph's/Candler hospital system (which is somehow related to the Sisters of Mercy), and they basically pick up the $1 million/year bill.  Our clinic is one of the ways the hospitals are able to keep their 501(c)3 non-profit status, so at least they aren't paying taxes.  The clinic is staffed completely by volunteers; Greta, the executive director, is the only person being paid.  She and I are the only people who work at Good Samaritan full-time.  We have over 100 active volunteers: doctors, nurses, PAs, administrative assistants, interpreters, etc.  Most of them will come once or twice a month.  The state of Georgia offers sovereign immunity to the practitioners so that they can't be sued while volunteering their time (this means that a lawsuit would be against the state instead of the individual practitioner).  I guess the state probably makes out in the long run, since they have a healthier population that isn't using the emergency room as much!  A lot of the practitioners also get certain credit hours they need fulfilled by doing community outreach.  It seems like a pretty good deal for everyone involved!      
     The clinic functions extremely well when it's open.  The facility is larger than I expected, with seven exam rooms and a lab area.  When patients arrive, they check in (they're supposed to have an appointment, but it seems like we almost always take a few walk-ins) and verify their information at the front desk.  Their finances need to be verified at least once per year, so they do that with someone in a side room.  Then they are triaged by a nurse.  After that, they're assigned to exam rooms, where they wait for the doctor/PA/NP.  After the exam, they either get some labs taken or go to the check out area to figure out what else they need.  There, they may book their next appointment at the clinic or get put on a list for an appointment with a specialist.  We have volunteers taking care of each step of this process, with each person only having one task.  It's kind of like an assembly line.
     My job at the clinic is officially "office coordinator."  My biggest task is keeping up with the phones, which ring constantly.  At least the phone warns me if the person on the other line selected English or Spanish when they called, so I can mentally prepare myself for the conversation.  After nights we have clinic, on either Wednesday or Thursday morning, I make appointments with the specialists for patients and then call the patients to let them know.  I keep patient information in the computer software and also keep track of peoples' charts (although we're hopefully switching to electronic medical records at some point in the near future).  I also mail out new patient packets and do other random administrative stuff.  Additionally, I'm the volunteer coordinator, meaning that I have to keep track of all our volunteers, train new ones, and make the schedule.  When the clinic is actually open, I basically will just be filling in wherever needed.        
     I only worked three full days this week, yet I accrued 31 hours (33 if you count the committee meeting).  I feel exhausted; translating makes my head hurt.  I also don't especially enjoy sitting at a desk with a computer and phone for long periods of time.  I wish it wasn't so hot out so that I could get away from the white walls and artificial lighting during lunch or something.  It's probably a good thing that Gmail, Facebook, and YouTube are blocked on the internet throughout our health system because I could easily get distracted.
     My high/ray of sunshine/gift of the week was translating an eye exam for a man named Antonio.  He's from Guatemala and was so excited to hear that I had been to his country twice in the past 8 months.  We got to chat for a while, so I learned a lot about his landscaping job, his wife and daughter, etc.
     My low/bolt of lightning/challenge of the week was getting frustrated with not understanding people.  A lot of the Hispanic patients talk super fast, mumble, and ramble on the phone, and there are a ton of medical words that I haven't ever used in Spanish.  I keep a Spanish medical dictionary on my desk and I'll be taking an interpretation class, so hopefully I'll get more adjusted soon.  Unfortunately, a lot of the native English-speakers also mumble and ramble, and sometimes their accent is so thick that I feel just as lost as if they were speaking another language.  I'm sure I'll get used to both, but right now I feel like a fish out of water.