Patient
Yes, last week, I was hospitalized at the Jaffna Teaching Hospital. It all started rather strangely. I woke up on a Tuesday, perfectly fine. I sat down to consume my breakfast of buffalo curd and chopped papaya and without warning I had to go number 2....NOW.
This diarrehea and hideous cramping continued all day, and so, was unable to work. On Wednesday, I decided that I had some control over the problem, so went to work. I redecorated the bathroom twice before I decided to come home for an hour or so. I returned to work about 2pm, only to realize the folly of the decision to return. By this time, the cramps were so intense, I thought I was having a baby. My colleagues, Jo and Marcia had to take me home as I felt incapable of riding my scooter.
Bill was out of town on a field trip with his English students, so I was alone in the house. I began vomiting and running a fever. The cramping was severe. Marcia came home from work and thoughtfully, made me some peppermint tea which was so kind, but I couldn't even think of touching it. Bill called:
"I'm on my way home."
"Bill, I think you need to take me to the hospital."
"What?, Ok, I will be there in a few minutes."
Bill comes in the door.
"I have a motorcycle waiting. One of my students can take you."
"I can't ride a scooter right now."
"Ok, I will go and find a trishaw."
Trishaw arrives.
Off we go to the Inpatient/Outpatient Department of a little clinic around the corner run by nursing sisters and facing the lagoon. The doctor assesses me and declares I need admission. The Sister informs him that they have no bed for me. The doctor advises I will need to go Jaffna Teaching Hospital for admission.
By this time, I cannot hold up my head, I want to lie down on the floor, I want someone to shoot me. A bumpy 10 minute trishaw ride takes me to the hospital, where I am admitted with very little paper work. I am hooked to an IV, which is tricky when there is no rolling pole and you need a toilet every five minutes. The squat toilets down a long hallway and sans toilet paper are not convenient when you have diarrhea.
Food is not supplied at the hospital but fortunately, I did not have much of an appetite. However, my good man and "bystander" brought me in ginger tea and fruit each day, along with some cheese and crackers. Other patient's bystanders slept on bamboo mats on the bedside each night. My bystander was kicked out as he was male.
Co-patients constantly tried to feed me, adjusted the drip on my IV pole, held the bandaids for the nurses with their unsterile hands, plied me with water (physically poured water into my mouth), stared at me at length from the end of my metal bed and giggled at my husband coming onto the ladies ward. Every work colleague arrived for a visit, already familiar with my "loose motions" and my vomiting. Confidentiality illa. All provided ayurvedic remedies: don't eat fruit, eat cumin, drink Viva, don't eat fat food, only eat creme biscuits.
Each day I improved and was out on Friday evening. Diagnosis: Acute gastrointestinitis: likely food or water borne bacteria.
All good now. It was interesting having a patient perspective of hospital care and to observe the stoicism of the people, unlike the Canadian in Bed 9.
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| Typical hospital beds - 30 to a room |
Bill was out of town on a field trip with his English students, so I was alone in the house. I began vomiting and running a fever. The cramping was severe. Marcia came home from work and thoughtfully, made me some peppermint tea which was so kind, but I couldn't even think of touching it. Bill called:
"I'm on my way home."
"Bill, I think you need to take me to the hospital."
"What?, Ok, I will be there in a few minutes."
Bill comes in the door.
"I have a motorcycle waiting. One of my students can take you."
"I can't ride a scooter right now."
"Ok, I will go and find a trishaw."
Trishaw arrives.
Off we go to the Inpatient/Outpatient Department of a little clinic around the corner run by nursing sisters and facing the lagoon. The doctor assesses me and declares I need admission. The Sister informs him that they have no bed for me. The doctor advises I will need to go Jaffna Teaching Hospital for admission.
Food is not supplied at the hospital but fortunately, I did not have much of an appetite. However, my good man and "bystander" brought me in ginger tea and fruit each day, along with some cheese and crackers. Other patient's bystanders slept on bamboo mats on the bedside each night. My bystander was kicked out as he was male.
Co-patients constantly tried to feed me, adjusted the drip on my IV pole, held the bandaids for the nurses with their unsterile hands, plied me with water (physically poured water into my mouth), stared at me at length from the end of my metal bed and giggled at my husband coming onto the ladies ward. Every work colleague arrived for a visit, already familiar with my "loose motions" and my vomiting. Confidentiality illa. All provided ayurvedic remedies: don't eat fruit, eat cumin, drink Viva, don't eat fat food, only eat creme biscuits.
Each day I improved and was out on Friday evening. Diagnosis: Acute gastrointestinitis: likely food or water borne bacteria.
All good now. It was interesting having a patient perspective of hospital care and to observe the stoicism of the people, unlike the Canadian in Bed 9.
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