Sick in Shanghai

As many of you know, I was quite sick in November.  It started with a cold.  I thought that I was feeling better so Matt and I went for a full day of Christmas shopping at the Apparel Market.  This included a lot of haggling for the right prices.  By the end of the day I was beat.  All of Sunday I slept and Monday the doctor told me that I had bronchitis.  Going to the doctor was an adventure in itself.  The general practitioner's office is on the fourth floor of the hospital and figuring that out was about a ten minute conversation of pointing and acting with the guard in the lobby.

The doctor’s name is Dr. Luang.  She is Chinese and speaks very good English.  She gave me peace of mind with her kindness and caution.  Later in the week I seemed to be doing worse so I returned to see her.  At this point in the week I was so run down that I was willing to do whatever it took to feel better.  Dr. Luang said that she was concerned that I was beginning to wheeze and was seeing signs of asthma.  She decided to admit me into the hospital so that she could do a more intensive round of antibiotics and constant breathing treatments.  When she said that the antibiotics would have to be administered intravenously I said thanks but no thanks.  Unfortunately, I could not get the whole sentence out because I was wheezing and coughing, it seemed that my body knew better. I went down the hall for them to begin the IV.  Now, if you know me, you know that needles bring about a strong reaction usually manifesting itself in childlike behavior including but not limited to; crying, yelling, shaking, pouting, standing on chairs, hiding, running away, or giving death threats.  I warned the nurse of this and asked “are you good at this?”  She nodded.  After they royally messed up the first hand and went onto the next one I was fully pissed off.  The first ‘practice’ hand looked like a golf ball the color of grape jelly was growing under my skin.  (Hold on while I take a break to get through this memory)  It hurt real bad and when they were done I was unable to properly use either of my hands, one was growing a plum and the other one was obviously out of commission because it had the IV in it. Perhaps a non-needle fearing person would think I was overreacting.  I, on the other hand, thought my mother would be proud that I did not physically harm anyone.  With tears still coming down my cheeks and snot dripping out of my nose (how was I going to blow it with no hands?) I made it upstairs to my hospital room.  The room was quite large being about four times larger than any of my Jewell dorm rooms.  If you walked into the room you would have no idea that you were in China.  It seemed very normal and Americanish.  Matt showed up after school released a few hours later and brought some requested items; my laptop, all of the seasons of Six Feet Under, my earplugs, chap-stick, deodorant and a hairbrush.  The hospital ordered supper for both of us from Element Fresh.  Element Fresh is one of my favorite ‘Western’ restaurants.  Matt fed me (stop rolling your eyes) and left me to my TV marathon.  The next day they took the ‘good’ IV out because it was causing another abscess.  When the doctor came to see how I was doing I tattled on how awful the nurses had done with the previous IV.  She sent in the Head Nurse for my next awful experience.  This time they used the crook of my elbows (I am sure that there is an official name) since my hands looked as though I had colored them green.  This time I was very clear about my expectations.  “You get one shot at this okay?”  After a few breathless minutes of literally poking around she said “Maybe try other arm”  If you know me, stop and imagine how this went over……. Yep, you got it.  “Are you kidding me?  Um, no, I told you that you only get one shot.  Sorry.  How are you THIS BAD at doing this?” 

In the end, I gave in.

Something about outrage and bronchitis mixing into a fit of coughing really killed my argument.  She did okay on the next arm. 

Throughout my three days other than the needle thing the stay was as good as any hospital stay could be.  I was maybe the only other person on the whole floor with six nurses helping me out.  They were very kind and helpful.  My favorite part was at shift change.  All six nurses would come with the new six nurses beginning their shift, into my room.  This made 12 nurses around my bed staring at me and speaking in Chinese.  I felt bad that I had not prepared a performance. The first night when I showed them my badly bruised hands they made sympathy noises and I felt validated.  The doctor came by twice a day to check on me and even came in on her day off to see how I was doing.  She told me later that she called some of her colleagues to make sure there was not more that she could be doing.  She was more worried than I had known.  She thought the bad air quality in Shanghai had something to do with my slow recovery. 

In the few weeks following the illness I was on a variety of medicines (which included a hallucinogen that Matt will have to blog about later)  I carried an inhaler around with me and would have to use it after climbing stairs.  I felt the need to explain to any passerby on the third floor that I was not this out of shape, I had been sick.

 It has been many weeks since then and I can say that I am healed.  Thank you for your thoughts and prayers during that time. 

Oh, I must mention my mother’s reaction.  Many people asked about how she did during this because they can imagine how a mother would feel having a daughter in a hospital so far away.  This was the email that she sent that I did not get to read until I got out of the hospital:

"I am freaking out, how are you feeling, I think you need to come home and recoup after you get out of the hospital....there is no way you are going to feel like going back to work.  love you"

I love Mom and am proud of her will power.  Give her a pat on the back if you see her and tell her good job for not calling the embassy to have them send me back home.