Going Under The Knife

Here it is- the dreaded blog about my experience in the hospital. After you read this, you will appreciate American hospitals and it will make you kiss the floor of your hospital in the states.

Over the weekend I began to sleep terribly, not really knowing why. I felt a hole in my stomach, but the kind where it feels like you’re hungry. So I ate oatmeal and drank some tea, hoping it would do the trick. Tuesday I had class in the morning, went to lunch, and started grading papers and BAM! The hole in the stomach feeling came back, much worse. I went to my office and crawled up on the couch, couldn't move.  I called my doctor in Chengdu and she told me she would get my Waiban to get medicine. 20 minutes later, I started throwing up into a bucket full of water. I’m not gonna add any more details to that, because you can probably imagine the splashing of my own vomit. Oops! Well, there’s the full detail. Sorry!  Nearly 3 hours later, I finally mustered the courage to walk out the building and take the bus. Worst idea EVER. The bumping and the traffic did not help the situation. I started feeling slightly better after throwing up, although I still felt nauseous.

My Waiban finally showed up with a box of medicine and a big bottle of Coke. Now, I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure when someone has a stomach ache the last thing they need is a bottle full of gas. Right? But, in true Chinese fashion, the opposite verdict is the correct one.  I reached for the medicine and my Waiban stopped me saying only take it if it gets really bad. I thought, “huh?? It’s already really bad, like at the worst state” I called my doctor, being really confused. To this day, I have no idea why I didn't take the medicine that she clearly prescribed to give me. I couldn't really do anything about it because it was all in Chinese, and if I swallowed too many pills I’d probably be in the hospital for an accidental overdose, instead of the true cause. It seemed that the symptoms were subsiding.

Then I started experiencing excruciating stomach pain at 2:00am. Not only that, my whole left side was swollen, my rib cage was bulging out and I couldn't breathe. I couldn't stand, lie down, or even sit. I didn't know what to do. Calling anyone at that hour would have been so much effort. I waited it out, pacing around my apartment hunching over and holding on to my stomach, like I was in labor. I have to say, I love having my own apartment but when you’re in need of help, living alone is possibly the worst feeling.  Several hours later, I texted my doctor saying I needed help. I found that if I sat, I would be in less pain. So there I was on my couch, exhausted, in pain, waiting for a call. Around 6:30am my doctor finally called and said I needed to go to the hospital. You would think going to the hospital in desperate time of need, would be super easy- just hail a cab, get in and arrive at the hospital. Wrong! In China it works like this, “Just wait” The procedure is that the doctor calls the Waiban, the Waiban comes with a school car to pick you up and takes you to the hospital. I asked my site mate, Erin to go with me since I was in no condition to speak for myself or even ask questions. The Waiban was too busy to come so he called my counterpart Sally, from the school. An hour later, I was on my way to the hospital.

Here is where the true horror story begins.

Number 1 Hospital of Lanzhou University is considered the best hospital in Lanzhou. If that’s the best hospital, I would really, really hate to see the worst one. I've been to that hospital back in August with my site mate for a brief time, but I wasn't the one getting examined. It’s an entirely different story when you are the one under the microscope. I was in the waiting room of a hallway that’s named “The Resuscitation Area”. Erin and Sally were sitting next to me when Sally started asking questions about the possessive “S”. When someone is in the hospital, it’s not really an appropriate time to ask questions about English grammar. Erin was getting annoyed and I was just so out of it, I didn't bother to care.

 Next, I was brought into a small room with a man working on the computer and a small examination bed. There were other people there with tickets, standing in line to give it to the man. The man would input the information in the computer and send them elsewhere. When the nurse came in, they kicked everyone out and told me to lie on the bed. They poked around and said nothing. Sally and the nurse were talking in Chinese and then Sally would ask me questions about what happened during the night, when did it start happening and what was I feeling. She started mumbling something in English that I couldn't quite understand with hand gestures placed on her mouth. It sounded something like this, “When you throw up, I mean the other side?”  I turned to Erin, and before I even said anything Erin jumped in and assumed she was asking about diarrhea. I told them no, just vomiting and stomach pain. Sally persisted on asking Erin about English vocabulary and grammar. “What is another word?” “poop” “po? Pooooop?” She continued to say it under her breath, repeatedly over and over again. I was smiling because Erin’s face told a story about this Chinese woman who would not shut up and would be killed at any given moment. 

Later, I was taken to get an ultrasound. In china, the protection shield thingy they use to put on your stomach when you get an ultrasound is non-existent. They took one picture and were done with me. The inside of the hospital, as soon as you enter is designed like a circle. As I waited outside of the room, I was looking downstairs to the rush of people coming in and out. There were other patients when the doctor came out and placed the picture above his head to the light and spoke in Chinese. I had no idea what was going on. I walked back to the resuscitation area and was taken to the out-patient room. I would end up staying in that room until 10 at night. Sally told me there was a problem with my intestine and I needed treatment in the hospital. O.K not the worst thing. My blood was taken, and apparently they have a shortage of band aids because they just pressed the opening with a cue tip and threw it on the floor. ON THE FLOOR! And I was just bleeding dry. Then, I was hooked up to an IV bottle and couldn't eat or drink as long as I was on it. Between all the bottles I had numerous teachers come and go to be by my side. One was pregnant and shared the story of her pregnancy loss last year, the other just started working for the school. It was her second day and she was forced to come to the hospital. Lucky me, huh? After 7 bottles of IV fluid, not sleeping all night, being in pain and not drinking or eating for the whole day you can imagine I had no energy to talk to anyone, especially slow English so that other people could understand me. Then the dean, my Waiban and another person working for the foreign affair department showed up. They grilled me about my eating habits and claimed this happened to me because I need to cook for myself and not eat out all the time. I just nodded and didn't even try to argue.

For different shifts, I had different doctors come and poke me some more. They pressed on my bottom right abdomen and I nearly kneed the doctor. I lost count on how many bottles I had, but one in particular was killing me. It was the biggest one yet, and the rate that it was going into my veins was super slow. The potassium chloride was the strongest and if they made it flow any faster it would hurt my hand. Regardless, it did just that. I started complaining about it but it just had to be over and done with. I was then asked to walk to get a CAT scan. There was no IV crane to place it and make walking easy, so another nurse had to hold it, and walk beside me. There was another teacher with me. On the way, I was in the elevator and looked down to my arm, I saw blood rising in the IV and it hurt like hell. All of the sudden, I get a call from the doctor in Chengdu asking me how I am, I handed the phone to the nurse because I felt something was wrong and the next thing I know, I fainted. The teacher was holding my other arm to lift me up, I felt really dizzy and I couldn't see anything in front of me. All I saw were yellow dots as they held me and made me continue walking down the hallway to the CAT scan. After the CAT scan, I was seated while a nurse came to take my blood pressure. They finally had some sense and wheeled me back to the out-patient area and not have me walk!

Around 4:30 pm they told me that I needed surgery because it was appendicitis, even though the CAT scan did not visibly show any symptoms of it. I thought their diagnosis was all wrong because my pain was on my upper left side.

I turned to the doctor and said , “But my pain is here” (pointing to my left side). He told me “Symptom is there but disease is here” Baffled I yelled, “Call my doctor !” His response was, “I am a doctor” With a really frustrated voice I said, “No, I mean my doctor from Chengdu. Call her!”

Soon enough, I received a call from my doctor saying she is taking a flight to Lanzhou to examine the situation. She finally arrived, and after hours of talking to the doctors and making phone calls, the final say was that it was in fact appendicitis. I even received a phone call from a guy in Thailand who is responsible for all of Asia medical emergencies to confirm it. So yea, my first surgery ever and it was in China.

Around midnight I was taken into the surgery room. I was still fully clothed and as they wheeled me on the bed, I leaned up and noticed there was dry blood on the sheet that I was suppose to have surgery on. So note to self- burn all the clothes when you get back home. The room had about 5 male doctors, 2 mainly who spoke English. One guy just kept bombarding me with questions about my thoughts on Chinese hospitals, and even accused me that I didn't trust them well enough. Way to make a girl feel safe! I felt that I was just a prized possession to them and they could finally operate on an American to boost their resume. They then had to stick a needle in my knuckle so that the fluid would go in and knock me out. I wasn't freaked out until they failed numerous attempts on getting the needle in. They called in a female nurse from another department to do it. My leg started shaking and I became really nervous at how disastrous this might end. After the nurse succeeded, 2 seconds later my eyes closed and I saw darkness. 

"Bella, Bella? Wake up, Bella?" I was woken up maybe 2 hours later by 8 Chinese floating heads and Erin looking down at me. I felt slight pain and looked down and I was still in my clothes. I stayed in the hospital for 3 days in which during that time I had many student and teacher visitors. Because I couldn't shower, the students would clean my back and face with wet cloth. I needed help going to the bathroom because squatting after surgery was no easy task. The one thing I was really shocked about was that there was no soap in the bathrooms. One day, the doctor came in and said I needed to start walking around the hallway and that I needed to get a bowl movement. To help me, he further explained that I needed to use an enema. For those who do not know what that is, it's used to shoot liquid up your anus in order to unclog and get you to have a bowl movement. One student who was with me, listening in on the whole conversation, stated, " Oh, when I was in the hospital my mother helped me with that. I can also help you because it is very difficult". Did my student just offer to help me with an enema?? That's where I drew the line! I remembered my mother had snuck a laxative into my luggage before coming to China so I went to the bathroom and just chucked the enema in a garbage can and waited maybe 15 minutes so that they would think I did it. 

Phew, 3 days later and I was back at my apartment. The students came and made rice porridge, cleaned the house and took care of me. My counterpart told me that she was really surprised by me. When I asked why she continued to tell me that she thinks I was really brave, and the fact that I didn't complain at all, cry, or was sad showed that I was really independent. She also said that if her daughter was in that situation, she wouldn't act like me. At least this awful experience has earned me some brownie points with my counterpart :)