Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Over the Moon

Tomorrow I set sail, metaphorically speaking, for America (a country I haven't seen since October of last year). I'm sure I'll barely recognize this land I once called home, with all of the innovations and new malls that have been created in my absence. It's a scary thought to be sure. 

Well, luckily over the past week I haven't had much free time to muse about this voyage home. Extreme stomach pain tends to have a squelching effect on my free-range thoughts. It was the strangest thing. I didn't eat anything odd, nothing extremely culturally or special...actually, I can't remember what I ate Sunday night before it all started, but I'm sure it was nothing special. 

That fatefully Sunday night until Saturday afternoon...I was in agony. The pain in my abdomen was accompanied by other lovely side effects I don't deem necessary to paint in great detail, for the benefit of my audience of course. However, I will just casually mention that I was experiencing, what many of my Chinese friends would call, laduzi...many times a day...at all hours of the day and night. I was miserable. 

I don't particularly care for hospitals. In fact, I would be considered one of those Americans who like to "ride an illness out" at home with some medication (if absolutely necessary). What drove me to visit the mecca of sickness and backless gowns? Well, I had been sick for nearly a week, and the end did not look like it was in sight. Taking that fact and the knowledge that my series of airplane rides back to America would begin in less than 5 business days, I was not willing to risk the chance that my laduzi would be la-done by that time. And I was not taking this new friend of mine on a plane, let alone 3. 

Fortunately, I was blessed to have some friends who cared about me, one of them being a kind Chinese lady who spoke great English. So, that fateful Friday, my friend Britney and Jenny (the Chinese blessing) visited a couple places with me to see if I could be cured. The first clinic directed us to the hospital, which was fine by me since Jenny didn't think the doctor at that clinic was old enough to really help me. (Her words, not mine)

We left via taxi and made our way to the larger Chinese hospital, which for some reason is located at the peak of a large incline. Let's call it a hill. At this point I'm severely dehydrated, weak, pale(r than usual), and don't know if I'll actually make it into the building. Looking back, I think the hospital architect was a Darwinian enthusiast. Survival of the fittest...if you can't make it up to the hospital, go home to die. 

Somehow I trumped the Darwin principle and made my way inside the building to the front desk. For those of you who have never been inside a Chinese hospital, the first thing you do (if this is your first trip) is purchase a notebook for about 2 dollars. This notebook holds your medical records. Basically, you carry it around with you when you visit hospitals and doctors so that they know everything that's in your medical history. You also get a hospital debit card. This card allows you to load up money so that when they perform tests and services for you, they can merely scan your card and deduct from your account. Kind of strange, but I guess it works.

From this reception area, we were directed to walk outside, around the building towards the back to an outside building that specializes in abdominal care. I met with my doctor, who (praise the Lord) was female, and she began asking me various questions about my condition. The million dollar question being: "how many times a day do you make laduzi?"I was given some choices, like a game show contestant, and after a bit of thought gave my final answer to Jenny. Jenny translated it to my doctor who looked at me in momentary shock when she heard my final count. Well, that's always a good sign...

I had to give some samples, blood and other stuff, and then I received my first IV. 

I know, now I'm a real adult. The language barrier wasn't much of an issue expect for explaining to me why I was sick. I, to this day, don't know why I was so miserable all week. I was simply told that I was very sick, but the IV and medicines would help me. 

Then I was given a choice. The doctors wanted to give me the option of getting something that in English is affectionately referred to as the "butt shot." This was not mandatory, but the hospital staff recommended it so that I wouldn't have to come back later, AND (more importantly) it would help with the pain. Needless to say the second point was a real selling point. 

Fun fact, I have never had a butt shot before this point. Fun fact, I didn't know where the shot would be administered. Fun fact, I was not given specific instructions on how far to pull down my pants. Did I say this was a butt shot? Well, before I knew it I was in the "shot-giving room" with Britney holding up my IV bag and the nurse readying my dose. When she had the needle ready, my nurse pointed at my hip - which I assumed meant that she was indicating which side of my butt she was going to shoot. Now that I had some direction, I pulled down half of my pants for her. 

At this point a couple things happened. Britney was attempting to pull my pants up and hold my IV bag over my head, the nurse started laughing, I felt a sharp stinging in my hip, and I realized my error. This was no "butt shot." I was being given a hip shot, and the nurse was being given a show. 

I had effectively mooned my nurse. 

Well, that was days ago. On a more positive note, today I am feeling much better. I'm not entirely cured, but I'm on my way. Currently, I am on a toast diet. The actual eating restrictions included toast, rice porridge (NOT oatmeal, which according to my doctor Americans love to eat) and a collection of root-based veggies I've only ever heard of in China. However, since I don't like most of that other stuff, what I got out of these doctor's orders was "eat toast until you go back to America." 


Let's be clear, being sick is (almost) never fun. But, I'm happy to say that being a white chick sick in China was a fairly merciful experience. What do I mean by that? Well, I was surrounded by caring friends, a loving boyfriend, and had an overall painless hospital experience. While the pain was pretty brutal, it could have been a lot worse. And hey, I consider it close to a miracle that my nurse was such a good sport about seeing another side of me for the first and, hopefully, last time. 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Students Before Swine

On Wednesday (or as I personally like to refer to it as, my version of Monday this week) I was reminded by some students of an important...