Today was one of those days that was meant for blogging! I mean, I actually spent the day in a developing nation turning myself over to their healthcare system. This ranks right up there with my trip to Kashmir or sailing across the North Sea. In retrospect, I actually believe there was less risk with the last two.
I arrived at the MAX Super Specialty Hospital (or MSSH to those in the know) right on time with samples in hand – well, they were actually safe in their plastic containers. Anyway, I arrived never the less. It has been a while since I have actually been in a hospital, but this one seemed pretty well appointed with several restaurants and a feel that was more hotel and less medical. I introduced myself to reception and after some discourse, I was led to registration.
Although the environment seemed well thought out, the registration process quickly brought you back to where you were – India. I sat in at the registration desk for 15 minutes while the guy behind the desk talked on the phone and oriented himself to the job at hand. He finally handed me my form to fill out and I set about completing the usual irrelevant questions about my father’s name, blah, blah, blah. Then I was told I need to pay for the privilege of registration. It was only a couple bucks, but it is the principle of it. Really, I’m dropping a couple grand in your hospital and you are not going to wave the registration fee? Ah, India.
I was then led to my suite. I can say that for a hospital it is comfortable and roomy and I honestly cannot complain, but it hardly lives up to the hype on the website - a tad over-marketed, I would opine. It has two rooms, one sitting room and one bedroom, but the bed is simply a hospital-gurney style bed without a real mattress or blankets. We will see tonight how comfortable it is.
Within a few minutes of arriving in the suite, several nurses showed up with carts of equipment. The first crew needed to draw blood, 7 vials to be exact, and the second ran an EKG. Apparently, I am still alive. Soon after I was detached from the machine, my consultant arrived. He was a young guy and I detected he had not been in this line of work for too long. He laid out the day as best he could and we were off to the Ultrasound.
The Ultrasound is exactly what it sounds like. You lay on a table and they lube up a mouse-like thing and rub it all over your belly and chest. We did learn that I am not pregnant which was a huge relief to me and a bigger relief to Olga. We did learn that my liver is slightly fatty, which means I means I need to cut down on non-vegetarian items. After wiping off the gunk left by the test, we were off to the Nuclear Medicine Department.
Again, I do not have too much experience with this, but do we call it nuclear medicine in the US? I had never heard of it, so I was feeling very intimidated. They put one of those permanent tubes in my arm that you can attach a syringe to at anytime and injected me with irradiated isotopes. Again, I assume this was OK as no one was wearing big, white radiation suites. I was then set to the treadmill. I was hooked up to a very large machine and set about walking at increasing speeds like a gerbil. As my heart rate hit its maximum level, the nurses tried to inject me with next dose of isotopes. Now, this sounds easier than it was. I am on the treadmill walking as fast as I could without jogging and the nurses are trying to connect the syringe to the tube hanging out of my arm. Not a good situation. In the end, all went well and I finished the test with my arms intact.
After the test, I was finally allowed to eat. It was 11:00am and this was a milestone I was anticipating since the 6:00am poop sample collecting event. The “breakfast room” consisted of one table and a small buffet of rice, two bowls of unidentifiable Indian crap, and bread. I choose the bread, but I had it toasted as a special treat to me. Two minutes later, my toast was delivered to the table and the two other Indian men eating looked on as if I had lost my mind for passing up the bowls of crap. I ate my toast amid the neighboring cacophony of open-mouth, gum slapping chewing and escaped as fast as I could.
After breakfast, we returned to the Nuclear Medicine Department for my first scan. This was the thallium scan and consisted of two large slabs with a table that slides underneath. I set myself on the table and the two slabs slowly rotated around me. It took 20 minutes to complete the revolution and we were off to the next place.
The next few hours were filled with a blinding cornucopia of tests and consultations which I either cannot recall or have intentionally blocked out of my memory. The only thing I can recall is that I was starving and had so many things attached to me, I could barely walk. I still had the tube firmly taped to my arm for injections and I had four electrode pads still stuck to my chest. This was my low point, well almost, but we’ll get to that.
We then went to the Cartiography Department where they did another ultrasound, but this time for my heart and throat. The doctor had the gentle hands of a sasquatch and pressed the tool so hard into my chest, I actually bruised. After that beating, I had to go back to the Nuclear Medicine Department for another injection. It is a wonder I am not glowing tonight with all the freak’n isotopes injected into me today.
Finally, it was lunch time. We returned to the room and I waited anxiously for the lunch to be delivered. It was actually pretty good, but they could have wrapped my stool sample in a pita and it would have been good at that point. I then got a few minutes to myself and used it to call Olga to share the misery. I’m a giver!
The second part of the day was dominated by me being slid into, around and through machines. With the earlier injection of isotopes, I needed to have another scan, so we were back to Nuclear Medicine for a 20 minute turn with the scanning machine. This, though, was nothing compared to the MRI.
Firstly, I have never been in an MRI and had no idea what to expect. The movies portray the MRI experience as you relaxing on a super comfortable table in a huge climate-controlled lab as you are gentle and quietly inserting into the roomy machine for basically an hour nap. NOT THE CASE! First of all, the machine is neither quiet nor roomy and the table, well, we will get. The colossal machine sat in a brightly lit, freezing vault. The machine was huge, incredibly noisy and the opening long and very small. Very Small! Anyway, they lay you on the table and then lock you in place by strapping huge slabs of plastic over your entire body from head to toe - even your head and neck are clamped down with these plastic torture devices. I was OK with all that, but when they completely immobilize my arms to my side, I had a minor panic attack. Yep, a panic attack! First time in my life I have ever had one, but a panic attack none the less. I made them undo all the entire get-up (which took them 20 minutes to assemble) and give me a moment to collect myself. I am not proud, but it is what it is. I eventually convinced myself to spend 60 minutes in the tube, but I can tell you it was not easy. I pray I never need another MRI. That thing scares the hell out of me!!
Luckily, it was the last test of the day and I was able to retire to my room to recover, eat dinner and share my shame with the world.
Let’s see what tomorrow brings.
I arrived at the MAX Super Specialty Hospital (or MSSH to those in the know) right on time with samples in hand – well, they were actually safe in their plastic containers. Anyway, I arrived never the less. It has been a while since I have actually been in a hospital, but this one seemed pretty well appointed with several restaurants and a feel that was more hotel and less medical. I introduced myself to reception and after some discourse, I was led to registration.
Although the environment seemed well thought out, the registration process quickly brought you back to where you were – India. I sat in at the registration desk for 15 minutes while the guy behind the desk talked on the phone and oriented himself to the job at hand. He finally handed me my form to fill out and I set about completing the usual irrelevant questions about my father’s name, blah, blah, blah. Then I was told I need to pay for the privilege of registration. It was only a couple bucks, but it is the principle of it. Really, I’m dropping a couple grand in your hospital and you are not going to wave the registration fee? Ah, India.
I was then led to my suite. I can say that for a hospital it is comfortable and roomy and I honestly cannot complain, but it hardly lives up to the hype on the website - a tad over-marketed, I would opine. It has two rooms, one sitting room and one bedroom, but the bed is simply a hospital-gurney style bed without a real mattress or blankets. We will see tonight how comfortable it is.
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| My bedroom - note the WWII cot style bed - Comfy! |
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| My livingroom |
Within a few minutes of arriving in the suite, several nurses showed up with carts of equipment. The first crew needed to draw blood, 7 vials to be exact, and the second ran an EKG. Apparently, I am still alive. Soon after I was detached from the machine, my consultant arrived. He was a young guy and I detected he had not been in this line of work for too long. He laid out the day as best he could and we were off to the Ultrasound.
The Ultrasound is exactly what it sounds like. You lay on a table and they lube up a mouse-like thing and rub it all over your belly and chest. We did learn that I am not pregnant which was a huge relief to me and a bigger relief to Olga. We did learn that my liver is slightly fatty, which means I means I need to cut down on non-vegetarian items. After wiping off the gunk left by the test, we were off to the Nuclear Medicine Department.
Again, I do not have too much experience with this, but do we call it nuclear medicine in the US? I had never heard of it, so I was feeling very intimidated. They put one of those permanent tubes in my arm that you can attach a syringe to at anytime and injected me with irradiated isotopes. Again, I assume this was OK as no one was wearing big, white radiation suites. I was then set to the treadmill. I was hooked up to a very large machine and set about walking at increasing speeds like a gerbil. As my heart rate hit its maximum level, the nurses tried to inject me with next dose of isotopes. Now, this sounds easier than it was. I am on the treadmill walking as fast as I could without jogging and the nurses are trying to connect the syringe to the tube hanging out of my arm. Not a good situation. In the end, all went well and I finished the test with my arms intact.
After the test, I was finally allowed to eat. It was 11:00am and this was a milestone I was anticipating since the 6:00am poop sample collecting event. The “breakfast room” consisted of one table and a small buffet of rice, two bowls of unidentifiable Indian crap, and bread. I choose the bread, but I had it toasted as a special treat to me. Two minutes later, my toast was delivered to the table and the two other Indian men eating looked on as if I had lost my mind for passing up the bowls of crap. I ate my toast amid the neighboring cacophony of open-mouth, gum slapping chewing and escaped as fast as I could.
After breakfast, we returned to the Nuclear Medicine Department for my first scan. This was the thallium scan and consisted of two large slabs with a table that slides underneath. I set myself on the table and the two slabs slowly rotated around me. It took 20 minutes to complete the revolution and we were off to the next place.
The next few hours were filled with a blinding cornucopia of tests and consultations which I either cannot recall or have intentionally blocked out of my memory. The only thing I can recall is that I was starving and had so many things attached to me, I could barely walk. I still had the tube firmly taped to my arm for injections and I had four electrode pads still stuck to my chest. This was my low point, well almost, but we’ll get to that.
We then went to the Cartiography Department where they did another ultrasound, but this time for my heart and throat. The doctor had the gentle hands of a sasquatch and pressed the tool so hard into my chest, I actually bruised. After that beating, I had to go back to the Nuclear Medicine Department for another injection. It is a wonder I am not glowing tonight with all the freak’n isotopes injected into me today.
Finally, it was lunch time. We returned to the room and I waited anxiously for the lunch to be delivered. It was actually pretty good, but they could have wrapped my stool sample in a pita and it would have been good at that point. I then got a few minutes to myself and used it to call Olga to share the misery. I’m a giver!
The second part of the day was dominated by me being slid into, around and through machines. With the earlier injection of isotopes, I needed to have another scan, so we were back to Nuclear Medicine for a 20 minute turn with the scanning machine. This, though, was nothing compared to the MRI.
Firstly, I have never been in an MRI and had no idea what to expect. The movies portray the MRI experience as you relaxing on a super comfortable table in a huge climate-controlled lab as you are gentle and quietly inserting into the roomy machine for basically an hour nap. NOT THE CASE! First of all, the machine is neither quiet nor roomy and the table, well, we will get. The colossal machine sat in a brightly lit, freezing vault. The machine was huge, incredibly noisy and the opening long and very small. Very Small! Anyway, they lay you on the table and then lock you in place by strapping huge slabs of plastic over your entire body from head to toe - even your head and neck are clamped down with these plastic torture devices. I was OK with all that, but when they completely immobilize my arms to my side, I had a minor panic attack. Yep, a panic attack! First time in my life I have ever had one, but a panic attack none the less. I made them undo all the entire get-up (which took them 20 minutes to assemble) and give me a moment to collect myself. I am not proud, but it is what it is. I eventually convinced myself to spend 60 minutes in the tube, but I can tell you it was not easy. I pray I never need another MRI. That thing scares the hell out of me!!
Luckily, it was the last test of the day and I was able to retire to my room to recover, eat dinner and share my shame with the world.
Let’s see what tomorrow brings.
So sorry to hear about your MRI experience - it is a little disconcerting the first time. After more than 30 of them, I can report that I now view them as an opportunity for a 90 minute nap - albeit one where you are strapped down immobile in a VERY noisy, VERY cold place. I could have warned you that socks are needed and requesting the double blanket is a MUST. Alas.
ReplyDeleteI am not a fan of MRI's without the aid of Valium !!!! I used to be able to tolerate them and then one time I hads a major panic attacks and there was no convincing myself I could go back in that tube! Now I just request the Valium and I am a happy patient!!!!! Hope tomorrow goes better...
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