Medical Care Adventures!

So, I pretty much called it when we were home in the US after our first year in India.  Friends and family were inquiring about how year one went for all of us and I matter of factly told them, "It went well!  Really, REALLY well.  Almost to the point that I'm a bit nervous going into year two because things just can't go as well as year one.  We've got no where to go but down."  I didn't mean to be pessimistic or anything that was just truly my thoughts and well, I called it.  We had barely been back to Bangalore a month when Matt had to go in for eye surgery due to a blocked tear duct.  It was so creepy!  His under eye just kept getting more and more swollen and the eye doctor kept telling him to finish his antibiotics.  By the end of day five - the doctor finally agreed that mere antibiotics were not going to solve Matt's problem.  SO!  Off to surgery he went.

Good Grief, Man!  What happened to you?!

Getta Load Of This Guy!

Is that a leech!?

Turns out is wasn't a leech but that's what I thought it was when he first emailed me this picture!  The hospital staff used a big 'ole black magic marker and drew an arrow under the eye that they were supposed to operate on!  GOOD GRIEF!!!  :0)

The surgery was a success and Matt felt pretty good and wanted to go home but they insisted on one more night in the hospital.  So, they told him he could leave the next morning.  Long story short by 5:00 pm Matt was pretty irritated and ready to go home.  He took a shower.  Took out his IV and walked out into the hallway with all of his worldly posessions and said, "I'm not upset.  I'd just like to go home now."  Hospital staff went scurrying everywhere as they tried to figure out where his IV went & they assured him the doctor would be coming.  Matt said, "You've been telling me that since 9:30 this morning and now I'd like to go home."  "Okay, Sir.  5 minutes."  Matt looked at his watch and said, "Okay.  5 minutes!"  Wouldn't you know it!  The surgeon appeared within that 5 minutes.  We got the thumbs up and we were FINALLY heading home!  (Moral of that story - Take out your IV at 9:30 and you'd have gotten to go home MUCH sooner!  Hahaha!)

As if Matt's eye surgery wasn't adventurous enough he ended up needing to have back surgery!  I kept saying, "Are you sure you want to do it here?  I mean, it's only your BACK!!!  I know you had eye surgery here but you still had one good eye if anything went wrong!!  Your back?!  Something goes wrong & well....ya know!!!" ;0)   After he met with the surgeon he felt very confident that he was in good hands and did not need to fly back to the US or to Singapore. 

Immediately upon entering the hospital there is this little temple.

The night before his surgery, he went to check into the hospital and they said, "Sir, why are you here?"  Matt said, "I am having back surgery in the morning." 

Hospital Staff:  "Oh.  Okay.  We will have someone take a look at you tomorrow and determine if you need surgery." 
Matt:  "Um.  No.  They already determined I do need surgery and I was told to check in tonight for surgery in the morning."
Hospital Staff:  Crickets. Indian head bobble.  "Yes, Sir."  And with that they admitted him to a hospital room.  If only he had known how many more CRAZY things were going to happen to him!

I will let Matt share the details of what transpired in the morning but by the time I arrived at the hospital he was literally "packing up shop" and saying, "That's it!  I can't do this!" and on cue the surgeon walked through the door and assured Matt that everything was fine and that he just needed to "calm down." 

After he talked Matt down from the ledge and convinced him all was going to be fine he basically gave him a farewell wave & said, "See you in the OR!"  Oh Geesh!  Now I am freaking out!  This is craziness!  BACK surgery in India.  (As a sidenote, I have to say, the doctor's here are amazing.  Highly qualified.  Literally, probably some of the best in the world BUT well, India is India & that my friend is what made it an adventure!) 

We were completely convinced that the "nurses" weren't really nurses at all but just "nice ladies" in crispy, white uniforms that enjoyed trying to help others.  One of the things we learned during Matt's stay in the hospital is that the "Nice Ladies" quite literally do not have any medicine to dispense.  Family members are expected to go down to the main floor where there is a pharmacy.  Get a "token" (a number for when it is your turn), stand in the queue (line) & then give the "pharmacy boy" the piece of paper that the "Nice Ladies" wrote the name of the medication on upstairs.  I'm not even kidding!  Matt was literally being wheeled down the hallway to the OR when one of the Nice Ladies" realized that she forgot to bring along some sort of drug that Matt needed during surgery.  So she YELLED down the hallway to one of the other ladies on duty and we simply stood in the hallway and waited and waited and waited and waited.  Yep.  Eventually, someone must have run downstairs to get the medicine dispensed from the pharmacy and once they brought it to The Lady - Well, then we were underway to the OR again!

Slight backtrack here.  Forgot to mention that one of the things that had Matt in a tither when I arrived at the hospital is b/c he had called me while I was en route to the hospital and told me that I had to turn around and go back home and get his MRI's that were on a pen drive.  Apparently, he was supposed to bring his MRI's with him to the hospital for surgery....but nobody told us this.  We didn't know!

Okay.  Back to our regularly scheduled program!  Matt is being wheeled down to the OR.  I am at his side, but being a total germaphobe - I am conscience to not actually touch the bed or actively help push the bed.  I leave that to the Nice Ladies.  In one hand, Matt is holding the box of whatever it was that Nice Lady #1 almost forgot to bring and in the other hand is his pen drive to take into the OR with him. 

Two of the Nice Ladies taking Matt to surgery

"Seriously, Jen!  Stop it!  Don't blog this stuff!"

Okay.  So I stopped taking pictures but I most certainly did not agree to "not blogging" about this!  Hahaha!



Once we arrive in the doorway to the OR wing.  I notice and shutter in horror at the MOUNTAIN of shoes at the doorway.  Oh yes.  In India, you ALWAYS take your shoes off but I was thinking, "Surely we don't take our shoes (or as they call them, "slippers") off at the door in a hospital.  Ew, ew, ew! That's just disgusting!  Now it was time for me to talk myself down off the ledge.  "This isn't about you, Jen!  It's about MATT!  He's going in for BACK surgery for Heaven's Sake!  Don't cause a scene.  Take the shoes off."  Nope.  I couldn't do it.  I just stared straight ahead.  Kept walking & pretended like, "Oh yeah.  I do this all the time.  I totally know what I am doing!"  And that's when I heard it.  The voice.  It came from behind me.  A voice getting frantically louder & louder & eventually shouting...."Madam.  MADAM.  M A D A M!!  SLIPPERS!  SLIPPERS!  OFF!!!!"  Shoot!  Busted.  I had no choice but to take off my flip-flops.  I picked them up and held them in my hand and that's when I nearly gagged & lost my lunch.  I was standing in something.  SOMETHING!?!?!?  Something!  I don't know.  Something WET!  Yes, WET!  Oh, Sweet Jesus!  I'M FREAKING OUT HERE, PEOPLE!!!!  Something wet on the floor of an Indian hospital!!!!!  Don't get me wrong I'd be freaking out in an American hospital too.  Ish Ish Ish!  I can only imagine what that was and quite frankly it was probably best I didn't know.  I just kept walking and kept my mouth shut and without Matt knowing (b/c this was about HIM!)  I couldn't let him know I was battling with the inner voices.  Voices that were shouting TERRIBLE...Dirty...Germ-like things at me!  I drowned out the voices with my voice saying, "It's okay. You're fine.  You can scrub & sterilize your feet later."  Okay.  Okay.  Now to give a calm, reassuring smile to my sweet husband.  A little smooch for Good Luck & off he went.

The door shut behind him and he was gone!  YIKES!  Now what?  Well, I guess I sit and wait.  And since it was going to be a long wait I decided I would actually sit down.  Usually, in these situations I would have refused to sit in one of those scanky 'ole chairs but what's the difference?  I'm no doubt already beginning my inevitable demise due to whatever I just walked through BAREFOOT.  So, I guess it makes no sense to refuse to sit in one of these chairs!  So, as I sat, my inner voice said, "Do not scratch your face.  Do not touch your nose.  Nope.  Your eye does not itch.  SIT ON YOUR HANDS WOMAN!  DO NOT TOUCH ANY OPEN ORIFICE ON YOUR BODY!"  I sat for an eternity.  Okay.  Not really.  It was probably only 5 minutes but it FELT like an eternity.  Then a "Nice Man" (yep, just like the "Nice Ladies") came and stood in front of me.  I thought!  Oh geesh!  Something has gone wrong already?!  He kept saying something.  Hmmm....Okay.  Maybe a game of charades would ensue b/c I wasn't following.  His English...Not so good.  Ah ha!  I got it.  "SPECS"  He was saying, "Specs!"  As in, glasses!  Roger.  Okay okay.  Shoot.  I was going to have to stop sitting on my hands and put those illness infected fingers down into my purse to retrieve Matt's glasses.  But I did it.  Gave the Nice Man the glasses & back through the swinging doors he disappeared.  I couldn't take it.  I decided to venture up to the Nice Lady behind the OR Reception Desk, waited for her to finish hacking into the telephone & once she looked up at me I explained that I was going to go back to Matt's room and wait for him there.  With a gracious smile she nodded and said, "Yes.  Yes.  Of course, Madam!"

 Oy.  I was glad to be back inside the quietness of Matt's hospital room but even there I was reminded I was a VERY long way from home.  I went into the bathroom to "sterilize" my hands & feet.  Mold was growing up behind the toilet & a weird "stench" hung in the air of the bathroom (and no, it wasn't because Matt or I had "done our business" in there!).  I exited the bathroom (without touching the doorknob!) & plopped down on the chair.  I read.  Sent out some email updates to family & friends on Matt's condition & then I waited a long time.  No one ever called.  I eventually went back up to the OR floor for a status update.  The Nice Coughing Lady from behind the desk informed me he was out of surgery & that I probably didn't need to see him b/c then I'd have to "change my clothes."  "Say, what?!"  That was all a bit confusing.  Why wouldn't I want to see my husband?  And why would I need to change clothes?  But then I figured it out.  They wouldn't let you go back into the recovery room without a "smock & a hair net" on.  Yep.  The same smocks that were hanging on two hooks outside the door that everyone else in ALL OF INDIA has worn inside the Recovery Room.  Whatever.  I've already been traumatized for life.  Give me the stinkin' smock and Shoot!  I guess I'm okay with getting head lice too b/c I slammed that stupid "shower cap" looking thing on my head and walked in the Recovery Room.  Mission.  Find Husband.  STAT!  WOW!  WOW!  WOW!  Not a private room.  Not even a semi-private room.  One big room with probably about 20 people in it.  All recovering.  One man shouting, "OHHHHHH!  The pain!  The PAIN!  What to do?!!  WHAT TO DO!?"  And then My Little Honey.  I spotted him.  Quietly resting.  I called his name as I touched his leg, "Honey.  It's me!"  "My wife?!  My wife, JEN!?"  "Yes, Honey, It's me!  You did it!  You're all done."  Now mind you we carried on a quite a conversation here but there was about 2-3 minute pauses between each of his answers and while he would "Google" an answer in his surgery sleepy little brain I would sit and wait.  So after he confirmed it was indeed his "Wife...Jen!"  his next item of business, "Did the Patriots win?"  Oh stink!  I knew they lost!  But do you tell a man in his condition BAD news?!  ;0)  I wasn't quite sure what to tell him since I KNEW they lost.  I decided to break it to him gently, "No, Honey.  I don't think so.  I'm pretty sure they lost."  "$hit!"  (Blame the language on his meds!)  But I couldn't help it I burst out laughing!  Which annoyed him.  He wanted to know what I was laughing at but I figured by the time I explained why I was laughing and his brain caught up with the story he probably wouldn't be irritated anymore so I just stifled my laughter and he moved on...My wife.  My wife.  Is that you?  Jen is that you?"  Remember we are talking there are AGES of silence between these questions and statements...."I can wiggle my toes."  "What time is it?"  "I was a little nervous."  Was it a success?"  "I don't want to feel any pain."  "My lower back is killing me!"  "Where am I?"  "Did the Pats win?"  Call Luke (his brother)."  "Ask him if the Patriots won"  "Oww!"  "You want to see my bleeding?"  "How long have I been here?"  "Did the Pats win?"

At this point, I figured I better get going, the longer that hair net was on my head, the likelihood of me getting head lice increased & my answer about the Patriots was never going to have a happy ending, so, I went back to his room to wait.  When he and the doctor came to the room our top priority was asking about what would be the post-operation plan.  Physical therapy.  When?  How long?  What to do and what not to do?  What kind of pain medicine should he take?  How often?  Well, the surgeon informed him, "Yoga & Swimming Only. For one year.  No other exercise" and "Pain.  Pain is all mental.  If you are feeling bad...just smile!"  SERIOUSLY!?  My husband just had back surgery and your plan to ease his pain is to tell him "SMILE!"  Yikes!  This could be a long rode to recovery.

Matt then caught me up to speed that the reason the Nice Man had to come out and asked for his "specs" is because the doctor's couldn't get the file to open with his MRI's on it.  So he LITERALLY had to unhook all of the tubes and nodes and nodules, climb down off the operating table & help them open the file but he's blind as a bat and could barely see the computer screen so after they watched him put his nose within an inch of the monitor, I guess they decided they better send the Nice Man out to find "The Tall, Blind Man's" wife and get his specs for him.  He also said he was freaking out because as they were adding the "sleepy juice" to his IV he felt like his arm was going to explode & started saying, "Something is wrong here, guys!  My arm feels like it's going to explode!  I'm still here!  I'm not sleeping!  Don't start cutting...."  Poor Guy!  Those were his final thoughts as he went under, "I'm going to be stuck in some half way unconscious conscious limbo land and they will think 'I'm out' but I'm NOT out and I won't be able to communicate with them."    Arghhhhh!  What a nightmare!

To wrap this up - He took Advil during the days after surgery.  He didn't smile.  His recovery went relatively quickly and he's feeling 100% nowadays!  So although the journey was bumpy, rocky & at times seemed unbearable - In the end, it was a success!

As we were checking out of the hospital, we climbed into the elevator.  The doors slid shut and POWER CUT!  The power is ALWAYS going out in India but I had never been on an elevator before!  YIKES!  That totally made me nervous BUT it wasn't out for long and then just like nothing ever happened, The Carpenters came back on the sound system and we "Sha la la la every Whoo-oh-oh"d all the way down to the ground floor, where Matt had to STAND to wait for our driver to get through the traffic outside the hospital and pick him up!  BRUTAL, I tell ya!  Maybe it's that whole Marine thing?  I never would have been able to hack it & maybe the surgeon was right...Maybe it's more mental than anything and I definitely know my Little Honey is One Tough Cookie.  I, on the other hand....Wimpy, Wimpy Wimpy!!  :0)   Oh!  And if anyone else in our family needs to have surgery while we are in India...we'll be coming back to the USA or hopping on a flight to Singapore.  Just sayin'!!!!!!