Traveller Home India

Highlights:

Providing a sample
Hospital Arts & Crafts
The hospital check out

26th January 1993, Republic Day, Mysore, India

I guess the tea man can only speak, not read English because after hearing our summons to the room he ignored the note and still knocked to find out what we wanted. Oh well, tea and newspapers in bed still worked - even if we had to get up to unlock the door. Rich wasn't feeling too well so Kate and I got up early and told Rich we'd be back to get him for lunch. The two of us headed to the base of Chamundi Hill and started to climb the 1,000 odd steps to the temple at the top. About half way up the hill we found Nandi - the stone statue of the Sacred Bull, which was big, surrounded by Indians and very boring. We hiked the rest of the way to the top and up[on reaching the summit we found the Chamundi hill Temple - one of the few where non-Hindus are allowed inside. We sat there and watched the people and priests give offerings of coconuts and flowers to the gods. After watching this for a while we sat outside eating our snack of fresh green coconuts when one of the ubiquitous holy cows came over and began accosting me for some food. The only was to get rid of it was to lead it away with a piece of coconut husk for it to lick clean. Kate and I headed back down into Mysore and went straight to the street corner where the locals sell their materials. Plus at Rs 16 (US$.64) a meter we couldn't pass up buying a ton of it. You see, not ten meters from the door to our hotel are no less than fifteen tailors - all for hire. Boy did Kate and I have plans for them. We went to the tailors and got prices for the stuff we wanted made. Here's the list: shorts - Rs 30, Pants - Rs 30, Boxers - 15, button down shirt - 30. We dropped off our material to be transferred into various chemises, then headed to the sandalwood stores to see if we wanted to buy anything to send home. Sandalwood is incredibly expensive, so instead of that I broke down and bought a large smiling Buddha made of rosewood for Rs 150 (US$5). After our shopping spree we headed back to the hotel to get Rich for lunch. We'd done all that before noon!

We went to lunch, but Rich wasn't feeling well at all so we decided to take him back to the hospital to see the doctor again. Rich and I left Kate and headed over to the private hospital, but even though it was private it's still the third world. It took us a while to get the receptionist's attention and even then she told us to just sit down. We'd waited a while and then Rich laid out across the length of the bench in the waiting room because he really wasn't feeling well. We were getting impatient with the attitude of the staff, and when the security guard told me to get Rich to sit up I screamed at him. "He's sick! He needs to see a doctor!" I screamed this loudly across the waiting room in a very snide tone, but we'd learned that to get certain thing done in India that tone is needed. Rich was finally admitted to the hospital and put in his own room. They were going to check him out for kidney problems. Now even though Rich was in a "hospital" (quotes needed) I suppose the building was technically a hospital, but not what you'd expect a hospital to offer in way of services. This was a total do-it-yourself (D.I.Y.) hospital. Rich was issued a prescription for his IV fluids, drugs, etc., but the nurses aren't required to get you any of the stuff. I had to go downstairs to the hospital pharmacy (which doubles as a closet) any buy al the stuff - needles, tubes and drugs, in order for the doctors to begin his course of treatment. The DIY clause also includes all food, drinks, etc., Third world hospitals! So frustrating sometimes - they'd try the patience of a Saint! Rich was due to have some X-rays done, so when they took him down for them I left to go get him some food and tell Kate what was going on.

Kate and I returned to his room a few hours later to be told a story about him having to give the nurses a stool sample to test for Giardia. I was going to go to the loo, but was strongly advised not to go in there because of a mishap with the sample. The sample proper was in a specimen dish - it was getting it into the test vial the nurses had given Rich that seemed to be the problem. The vial was a small glass bottle with an opening not more than twice the diameter of the pen I'm using to write this sentence with. Rich was also hooked up to an IV so he was only able to use one hand, and the nurses had failed to give him any sort of instrument to scoop the sample into the jar. When one is in a situation like that you may as well make an attempt to help the nurses our and get some of the specimen into the jar. Rich thought the same thing and at that he scooped the jar across the specimen much the way you'd scoop a cup into a bucket of water thinking he'd get at least some of it into the jar. I never saw it, but I guess there was more on the outside of the test vial than actually made it inside. Rich just left it for the nurses thinking he shouldn't have to deal with this, his quote to me being something to the effect of, "I hope the nurses are wearing rubber gloves when they come and collect that sample."

Rich buzzed the nurses (they always appeared in twos) and when they arrived, sans rubber gloves, he told them the stool sample was ready in the bathroom. I was poised in my chair near the bathroom door so I could get a good view of the comedy about to begin. Nurse number one (who I named Sid) entered the bathroom and after surveying the carnage Rich had left behind - one second in there on her own - she immediately popped her head out the door and began yapping away in Hindi, very quickly, at nurse #2 (named Nancy). Sid had this semi-troubled look on her face and then Nancy went into the bathroom to help her out. Out in the room I could hear the two of them yapping away at each other about what they were going to do with this specimen jar all covered in specimen. A few minutes later the two nurses came out of the bathroom, both with glazed looks in their eyes. Nancy was carrying the specimen dish, but I never saw the test vial make a separate exit. I can only imagine it was still with the specimen - exactly where Rich had left it.

When they came out of the bathroom they found Rich, Kate and I doubled over with laughter, each beginning to tear up at the eye. How did they expect Rich to get the sample in the jar with an IV in his arm? As I said, sometimes you have to do dramatic things to get attention and get things done. Again, this was one of those times.

I sat with Rich until 8:00 p.m. that evening, then I headed out for I needed to send a fax to the insurance company in London to sort out who was going to pay the hospital bill. Back to the room and the insurance company rang me from London to sort out the details and get a better idea of what was going on out here. As far as we knew Rich was going to be in the hospital until the doctors figured out what was wrong with him. Who knows how long that could take.

27th January 1993, Mysore

Woke up, rang the bell, and had our usual tea and newspaper in bed. Kate and I dropped off more material at the tailors, then headed out to the hospital to see what was going on. When we arrived it was outside visiting hours, but because we're white we were just let through the security gate and up into Rich's air conditioned room. no word on exactly what Rich's condition was - they were doing a few tests and still giving him flush therapy for his possible kidney stone. Kate and I sat with Rich in his drab, undecorated room all afternoon. Rich was given an air conditioned room that consisted of a bed pushed against the wall, one neon tube on the opposite wall, an air conditioner that sat in the window, and two white translucent windows that I had to tie shut with a piece of a stolen bedsheet so the mosquitoes couldn't get in.

The doctor came in and refused to show us Rich's medical chart; he said to just ask him and he'd tell us what we wanted to know. Rather a pompous attitude for us, so we asked him question after question until he broke down and took Kate (who was a British medical student) to go look at Rich's chart. Left the hospital in the afternoon and dropped off some more fabric at the tailors, then lounged around our room for a while. Met Kate at the room then went to the people who sell fabric and bought a whole bunch more. Back to the tailor, yet again to drop off the newest bits of fabric then finally made it to the hospital to give Rich dinner. He reported nothing had been done since we'd left earlier that afternoon. I went and had a meeting with the hospital administrator to get the billing sorted out and bitch that nothing had been done. After my whinge session with the administrator I headed back to our room to wait for the insurance company to call from London again.

28th January 1993, Mysore

Woke up and Kate hit the bell so we could have our tea. We headed out and over to the tailors, as usual, then went to the outdoor market to pick up the supplies we'd need for this afternoon's activities at the hospital. We headed to the hospital, gave Rich his lunch and showed him what we'd bought at the market. In addition to selling fruits and vegetables the vendors also sell water based paints in every color you can imagine. There are bowls full of the powered paints all over the market, so Kate and I picked up a bunch along with some potatoes and coconuts. We'd also brought with us a bedsheet stolen from the hotel and some string to tie it up onto the lone light fixture. After re-arranging the furniture in Rich's hospital room I tied the sheet to the neon tube on the wall while Kate began mixing paint in each half of the coconuts I'd cracked open. Rich was sitting on the bed using his Swiss army knife to carve the potatoes into those potato ink stamps you used to make in pre-school. We were going to paint a mural on the stolen bedsheet to give Rich's room some decor, and Rich something to do because he was so bored from sitting in there.

Kate was busy mixing paint in any container she could find - specimen dish, water jug, you name it, it had paint in it. We had all the paints mixed and were about to start when Nancy (nurse #2) came in and saw what we were doing. She had this really perturbed look on her face until Kate thrust one of the potato stamps into her hand and told her to dip it into the paint. At that, Rich's nurse was happily imprinting purple stars on our virgin bedsheet canvas. The nurse left and Kate and I used the stamps (and our hands) and went at it. When word got out about what the sahibs were doing in Rich's room there was a never ending flow of nurses and doctors popping their heads in the room to see what was going on. One old hag head nurse came in with an entourage of like eight people and said in broken English, "Not on the walls. Not on the walls." We nodded our heads yes, oblivious to the fact that the paint was seeping through the sheet onto the wall behind; we'd find out about that later.

We finished our mural, getting a fair amount of paint on the floor, then took turns taking pictures standing next to our masterpiece.

Rich, his IV, his nurse and the mural
Kate displaying our masterpiece

Rich was really depressed being locked up in a hospital room with a translucent frosted window, an air conditioner and a fluorescent tube to look at. He had the looks and demeanor of a P.O.W. refugee, and the doctors weren't giving him the best medical care on top of it. I was going to call our Consulate in Madras to get a medical reference to someone who could give Rich adequate medical care.

29th January 1993, Mysore

No tea in bed this morning, for I had food poisoning from dinner the night before. The toilet was my friend for the first half of the day because I didn't want to venture too far without having a toilet nearby. The tailor was just down the road so I paid him a visit to pick up all the stuff I'd had made. For Rs 265 (US$9.80) I'd had four pairs of shorts made, two sets of boxers and a super nice button down shirt personally tailored for me. Bonus plan buy - I should have had more shirts made while I was at it. From the tailors I went and called the US Consulate and was put directly through to the Consul - Hugh Williams - who gave me a medical reference for an American doctor in Bangalore, the capital city of Karnataka. It was only about two hours away by bus.

It was about two in the afternoon and I was feeling better so I left Kate and went out to the hospital to get Rich out; we were going to Bangalore to a real doctor. I went and told Rich about the reference and he told me he hadn't been given any medication that day because I'd arrived to late to administer any. At that we left his room and headed downstairs to the main reception to check him out. The nurses saw him out of his room and kept screaming for him to get back in his bed, but Rich just waved them off and told them he was leaving. The doctors wouldn't give us Rich's medical records so Rich refused to sign any forms, meaning the hospital would get no money from the insurance company. I went back upstairs and lurked around the nurses station in the corridor trying to figure out which set of charts I'd have to knick so we could get Rich out of the hospital. Couldn't find anything so we left the hospital sans records and climbed into a rickshaw waiting outside. Just as the rickshaw was about to pull away the hospital security guards came running out and stopped the driver from going anywhere. We went back towards the hospital and one of the doctors met us in the parking lot saying "Take the records." We went back inside and had a look at the records, but a sonogram Rich had given them when he checked in wasn't in the file. Rich screamed at them some more and ended up telling one of his nurses to go upstairs and get his sonogram. "I know you can understand me, now go get the rest of my charts." From the length of time he'd spent with them Rich had figured out how much English the nurses actually understood. The doctors were going "What sonogram?" and Rich said he wouldn't sign any release forms. "Oh, that sonogram, just a minute." The sonogram appeared, Rich signed the forms, got his chart and we were outta there. it took us over two and a half hours of screaming, talking, and walking from nurse to nurse to get him out of that place but when you say "I'm not paying" it tends to get their attention. Especially if you're in one of the expensive air conditioned rooms. Rich's total hospital bill for 3 and a half days was like US$50 - not even the deductible on the insurance policy, but at least he was out.