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In all the years we’ve been traveling to Central America, only once have I had to go to a hospital.
Our daughter had developed an unusual rash on her arms and I needed to make sure that it wasn’t serious.
We wouldn’t be back in the states for another month, so I warily proceeded to the local emergency room.
It was dismal, to say the least. It was similar to what I imagine U.S. hospitals were like in the 1930s, only not so clean. The sounds reminded me of old, scary movies set in asylums.
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