"Where'd you get that nice ankle brace?" Heath care inside the land international law forgot

So the morning after I twisted my ankle, I woke up and it was swollen, purple and all around pathetic. Luckily enough a lovely colleague called me as we had plans to meet up, so she came by, picked me up and drove me to the doctor's office. Now, this doctor is 'the best in town'--the one all the expats use, the one with the good network of referrals, etc. Very fancy (for Ramallah)-- private office and all.

As I lifted up my pant leg so show him my ankle, he caught sight of my brace, the one I had bought the night before at a pharmacy. "Wow, what a nice brace. You got that here?" he exclaimed, fully incredulous. He could not believe it, and asked the name of the pharmacy.

The kicker is, this brace was, and is, distinctly low-end. It was probably produced in Poland in the early 2000's and found its way here in 2009 to sit on the shelf of a pharmacy in an upscale neighborhood until some hapless white woman bought it. It's not nice, it's not fancy, it's not particularly helpful. But, inside a restricted state where stuff literally doesn't get in nor out, it's worth a good doctor's incredulous glee. It was as if I had shown up with an aircast. All that for an ankle brace??

Palestine...sigh. Your doctors deserve better.