I was torn about the lyrical title for today’s blog entry. I was thinking
about using Bob Dylan’s “Everybody Must Get Stoned” and changing stoned to
stones. But after the last six months, capped off by this week, I couldn't wish
stones on anyone. So, I thought with a couple of changes "Stones" by Neil
Diamond would work.
So, how are you all doing? If you are ever bored and looking for
something fun to do and having a stone removed is suggested, I recommend giving
it a pass. It really isn't as much fun as you hear. Oh, and if you have the
choice, especially avoid catheters. During a time I got to experience variety of not so fun
things, the catheter earned a special place.
I won’t go through the details of the procedure; I actually have no
recollection of the procedure. I will say the doctor told us the stone ended up
being over 1 cm and after they blasted it there were still six good size pieces
plus some crumbs that they gave to us in a plastic vial. I have a stent in my
kidney so that it can drain more effectively (it had gotten quite swollen).
Getting it removed will be this year’s Christmas present (removal on the 24th).
In general I will say this about my hospital stay. People seem to be
much more advanced clinically and procedurally than they are in terms of palliative
care or customer service. From what I could tell from blood draws, to
injections, to the anesthesia, and the procedure itself everyone I dealt with
seemed very competent and professional. In terms of general patient comfort,
the experience was quite different from my experience in US hospitals.
A typical joke is that in US hospitals, a staff member is waking you
every couple of hours, including to tell you it’s time to go to sleep. Here,
there wasn't nearly that kind of attention. It is typical, if not expected, for
a family member to stay with the patient 24 hours a day and see to their needs.
During the night I spent in the hospital, I could have died and no one would
have known for at least five hours. It might have been longer if I hadn't used
the nurse call to get an injection for pain.
It might be at least to some measure a comfort with English, but there
was also much less information provided to the patient when anything was done. If
I hadn't asked, “What is this for?”, on several occasions I would have been
given shots, had blood drawn, etc. with no idea of the purpose.
Finally a word on the facility itself and the equipment. I had gotten
the impression, as we had made our way in, out, and through outpatient services,
that a new addition had been grafted onto an older hospital. Having now been
into the heart of the hospital, I know my perception was right. The patient
rooms, pre-op, and post-op areas were all a little long in the tooth. I would
guess the hospital itself was built in the 70s and has had only minor updating
since. The equipment (outside of the OR and diagnostic which seemed modern) was
even older vintage. The patient beds were narrow, hard, and only adjusted
manually. I am sure my size didn't help but I am not sure anyone would have
been comfortable on that bed. Things like gurneys and wheel chairs all seemed
about the same vintage and in some degree of disrepair.
All in all, I am grateful to have had the procedure; grateful to have
the stone removed; grateful to those whose generosity made the financial
challenges moot. I am more than willing to have this be our last significant interaction
with the Indian medical system.
That’s enough whining from me. Here’s Rae.
Wait. Wait. I almost forgot the hospital clothing! So, not
unexpectedly, I had to wear the gown they provided. The first set was
something. Modesty prevents showing pictures (or taking of the same for that
matter). The pants were like a cotton speedo with legs. The top was like they
brought me one for Rae by mistake. I somehow made it out of the bathroom to the
bed without being arrested for indecent exposure. I convinced them I needed a
larger set. The second set was exactly the same. One more time. Finally they
must have gone to the bariatric ward and brought me a set that fit. Now for the
slippers. When they came to take me to
the OR, they told me I couldn't use my own and they brought me a pair of size,
oh say, “8” plastic sandals; I wear “13s”. It was a good thing I only had to
walk from my bed to the wheelchair and from the wheelchair to the gurney in
pre-p. Oh, yeah, I also had to walk from the pre-op to the surgical suite,
which I thought was a bit weird.
NOW, here’s Rae.
My turn hmmm. I obviously didn't have any adventures this week other
than hospital adventures. I will try to
share a few of my impressions and experiences.
The morning that we checked in, our helper Christina wanted to come to
the hospital to be with us. We felt bad
having her take her time for that and also felt that we were big kids and could
handle things on our own. She did come
and I have to say that there were times that I really appreciated having her
there. When we’d gone in for all the
pre-op testing the week before, they had not given us hard copies of Phil’s cat-scan
and ex-ray. Once we got into his room,
they told me that I had to go to the 3rd floor and collect those two
items. Christina went with me and really
was a help in getting them collected.
Even with her help we were sent to 5 different places to finally
accomplish our mission. Left to my own devices I might still be there trying to
get them.
I know that their system is what they are used to and they think it
makes perfect sense, so they seem to think there shouldn't be any confusion to
us foreigners. I still find it hard to
put into words how amazing it is to me that everything comes with its own form,
paper, or hard copy, and they are able to keep track of things in that
format. Somehow in that mountain of
papers they can fumble through and find the ones that are needed for their
purposes. Continually amazes me.
Because we didn't have insurance for this surgery, we felt it was best
to have a semi-private room. Overall it
was an okay thing. We don’t know what
was wrong with Phil’s roommate, but initially I was thinking it was something
that was terribly contagious. He was
continually coughing, trying to clear his throat and spitting into a
container. Thank heaven for the, I’m
sure, germ blocking curtain that divided the room. As it turned out I don’t think he was
contagious, but that curtain didn't make him any less noisy. According to Phil he was a lot more
comfortable in his bed than Phil was because Phil said he was a VERY loud
snorer. I won’t mention the very long
and loud fart that he did during the night.
Because the hospital was located just a couple of miles down the road
from our house we decided I should just come home and sleep and then go back
the next morning. If I’d stayed overnight,
the chair that I sat on during the day was made up of 3 foam pads stacked on
top of each other. They were intended to
be separated and laid out to create my bed.
Toward evening, they came in and handed me a cotton sheet and told me it
was for me for my bed. No pillow or
blanket. After hearing Phil report on
his night, I was thankful to have come home for a good night’s sleep, (I know,
sounds selfish).
Phil has talked about his clothing, and the small bed so I have taken a
couple of pictures for your viewing pleasure.
His initial outfit was pretty comical and I know would have been pretty uncomfortable
if he’d had to try to wear it for his entire stay. The nurse didn’t seem to believe us that he
needed something bigger until she walked behind him, to show us what we were
doing wrong, and saw that the bottoms really did fit like a speedo with legs. Here are a couple of pictures that I took that CAN be published without violating decency laws.
It was my intention to take a picture of the hospital from the outside,
but always seemed to forget when I arrived there and as we were leaving. Another thing that I wanted to get a picture
of was the man who directed the traffic in front of the hospital. The first time I saw him he was inside the
hospital. I thought he was some kind of
Royal Guard. He was a very large man,
even next to Phil and was wearing a knee length robe and an elaborate head
dress. When I commented on him Phil
informed me that he was the guy who directed the traffic in front of the
hospital. Really pretty impressive. That’s the thing with India, some things look
so elaborate, dignified and even regal while other things right next to that are
shoddy and pathetic. India is a country
of many contrasts.
In any case, we are glad to have this behind us and hope that it is a
once in a life time experience. We know
that his overall care was good and he is on the road to recovery. With this behind us, hopefully some of our future
blogs will be filled with another sort of adventure. Thanks again though to all
those who have sent prayers, well wishes and many other forms of support. We are blessed to have you all in our lives.
Namaste.
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