Hospital

Last night we were on our way to a friend’s house for a birthday celebration. On my way I started to get a tummy ache.

The pains in my abdomen became increasingly sharper until it was clear that we would not be going to the party.

I went home and lay in my bed only to find I couldn’t stretch out. The pain was horrible coupled with the fear of the many parasites and food issues here in India. I couldn’t think straight… Scott was worried and John was scared.

Scott called our maid Vijaya to come to our house to watch John (and the dog) while he took me to the hospital in a cab as our driver was out of town at a wedding.

Vijaya showed up and we continued to wait for the cab… and wait.

After a 40 minute wait, we called the cab company to see where our cab was and they said the cabbie was near our house but couldn’t find it.

Vijaya gave them instructions (after yelling at him for not calling us to ask for directions) and he was there in a few minutes.

We got into the smelly car with lots of signs instructing us to buckle up...but no seat belts, and asked the extremely smelly cab driver if he knew where we were going. Apollo Hospital? No answer… this meant that the extremely smelly driver was either deaf, rude or didn’t speak English.

Half way to the hospital we realized the cab driver was taking us to the airport. Airport/Apollo… I can see it. We told him that we were going to the hospital… hospital… Apollo Hospital. He said, “Oh, yes… Care Hospital”. Care/Apollo…I’m not buying it. We called Vijaya and asked her to tell the driver where we were going over the phone. (People sometimes wonder why we pay Vijaya so much.)

The driver finally took us to the hospital… slowly. We were actually passed by people on bicycles… this is not an exaggeration.

At the hospital there were bodies everywhere. I don’t think they were sick people they were just the many family members waiting for their loved ones in the emergency room.

The emergency room was a large open room. No curtains for privacy. I think there was a heart patient and a burn patient all displayed on beds for our viewing pleasure. I was directed by a man (who later turned out to be the doctor) in jeans and a plaid shirt and no I.D. to go into a room off to the side… I’m thinking because I am a woman I was given special treatment… and allowed a small amount of modesty.

Out in the main room an orderly knocked over one of those electric monitors that show you the pulse/heart beat and other statistics on who ever it’s hooked up to. He was promptly slapped by several nurses.

In the “private” room there was a bed with a pillow. The bed was covered with a cloth sheet and the pillow had a cloth pillow case. Both were stained and dirty.

I know I was in a lot of pain because in laid down on the gurney without a second thought about the oily head print on the pillow… until Scott told me that I would be exiled to the futon tonight if I didn’t shower before going to bed.

The doctor was nice and seemed knowledgeable… He poked my stomach and ruled out appendix, gal bladder, miscarriage… because I was not vomiting or didn’t have ‘loose movements’ he was out of guesses. He gave me a prescription for pain killers and an anti-spasmodic. We joked about the anti-spasmodic and how I would start to disappear if I took them as I am such a spaz.

(We also joked about the sign on the wall that said emergency plastic surgeon on call… “Doctor my wife needs D-cups stat!)… Thank you Scott for keeping my mind off the pain. Laughter is the best medicine after all.

The doctor told me to come back tomorrow for a scan (ultrasound), and sent Scott to get the prescriptions.

I realized where and what I was lying on and opted to move to a chair, while I waited for Scott’s return. While I sat there bent over looking at my toes… a mouse ran over my foot. No I wasn’t hallucinating.

Scott came back and I told him about the mouse… he told me he paid the hospital bill (300 rupees… about $6.12) and picked up the medicine at the pharmacy (another 54 rupees…$1.10). For the record this was not co-pay… this was the total bill. I think the postage would cost more to send the claim to our insurance company.

For how laughably unsanitary the hospital was… the medicine the doctor gave me helped and I’m feeling much better today.

My adventure has left me with a lot of unanswered questions:
1. What was wrong with me?
2. What happened to the orderly who dropped the expensive machine?
3. Where exactly are our healthcare funds going?