I wish I had a story of an old withered fortune-teller whispering into my ear "Miiiizzz. India goood forr miiiizzz. In India Miiiz finds frrriends, finds looove, finds herrrself. Buuuuttt, Miiizz gets big clunck on the heeeead in India too!" If a fortune-teller had explained my Indian destiny to me as such, then perhaps the past three days would have been easier to bear. But, alas, no fortune, no warning, just a humiliating collapse at my favorite Kolkata coffee shop as I dropped to the floor in a dead faint while waiting for my daily lemon ginger tea. (Note: I'm okay now, typing and all!)
Needless to say, everyone I know here has been in a minor degree of panic because the Westerner blacked out on Saturday. I will admit that I have probably been the person displaying one of the highest levels of anxiety, which has probably not helped the situation much at all. One minute I was wishing my tea would come already so I could sit down (!), the next thing I knew I was being shaken awake from the most lovely dream. Unfortunately, my bed was the coffee-shop floor and there was a crowd of terrified folks trying to assist me to my feet.
"It was a seizure!" One man exclaimed.
"No. No." A woman told him, "It was a heat stroke! Westerners can't handle the Kolkata heat!" (I remember being mildly annoyed by her comment. I had zero clue what was happening, but let me tell you about August in Oklahoma, lady!)
"Can I call someone for you?" A youngish-looking man in a white shirt asked me.
"Aaaaaar..." I groaned as they placed me at the table. "I thhhhink I'mmmm okaaaay. Just neeeeed waterrrrrr...."
They slowly dispersed. I then called Caleb.
"Hiiiieeeee, Callllleeeeeeb," I slurred. My voice and limbs hadn't yet discovered that I was no longer unconscious. "Uuuuuuummmm..... I fainted aaaat Barrrreeestaas aaannnd I need someonnnne to come get meee heeerrrre."
"You're at Barista's? We're coming straight away, Bethany. We'll be there soon." Poor Caleb, he was totally freaked.
I spent the next 25 minutes trying to convince my fingers to grasp the water bottle, contemplating another faint so I could at least lie down again, and praying "Please God let Caleb get here soon. Please God!!!" I finally decided to brave the spiral staircase that led to the second floor bathroom (this is an utterly unfortunate layout for Barista's more sickly clientele) and returned to see Professor Peacock standing at the counter.
"We have a taxi," he told me while taking my pulse. "We're taking you straight away to the hospital to be checked out by a doctor!"
The five minute cab ride was more terrifying than normal. I had zero clue what was happening on the road, but I was certain that my head was about to explode all over the lovely Vishnu sticker on the dashboard.
The hospital was gloriously air conditioned and much cleaner than any American hospital I had seen. I was immediately ushered into a private examination room (take that three-hour long UC emergency room wait because the Student Health Care Center can't see me for three days!). The doctor arrived by the time I had climbed onto the examination table. He was accompanied by a young nurse wearing a crisp blue nurse's dress and starched white cap.
The doctor was very concerned that no one could tell him the exact circumstances of my episode. No, I am not having stomach problems. Yes, I had a good night's sleep the previous night. No, I am not having stomach problems. Yes, I can eat the food. Yes, I am drinking lots of water. No, I have had zero issues with my stomach since arriving one month ago today (note to self: the 20th seems to be a day of bad luck for me in India. June= lost wallet; July= public fainting spell; August= perhaps best not to leave my room that day).
So, we've established that my stomach is handling India quite nicely. Now, we must consider what is actually going on! Turns out my cold is more than an annoying cough and runny nose. I have some viral infection that is quite common among Bengalis during this time of year. The constantly changing weather, mixed with the heat, mixed with the pollution wreaks havoc on the human nasal passages (Kolkata makes Gary, IN, seem like a fresh air lake resort). Mine has spread to my ears, which are now infected, thus causing me to become dizzy and pass out. Good news is: I have already been sick for one week, so I only have another two weeks to go until I am once again clear headed. Bad new is: I cannot travel on an overnight train to Mungeli alone this week (my trip to the Disciples hospital will have to be rescheduled, not canceled). So, with bag full of various drugs and a 500 rupee ER bill (roughly $13 US), I headed back to Bishop's College to sleep.
Sleep is a very optimistic word for my lying down activities over the first two days. The bump on my head made it impossible for me to sleep on my back, but each time I tried to lay on my stomach, the sinus pressure would cause my eyeballs to pop out of their sockets (I write this figuratively, but was in such a massive drug-induced state, I cannot be certain that my eyes actually remained in my head either). For the first time in India, I had stomach problems (go figure!) and could not keep my antibiotics down. I could only bring myself to eat small bites of toast, and I welcomed Maggie's ointment-laden skull massages as I tried vainly to fall asleep.
I began to feel better the following day, and I even welcomed a visit from Teresa (Maggie's younger sister) and Maggie that evening. I was sad to see them go, but it was time for me to get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow, my head would only feel a dull ache instead of the sharp wrenching pain of today.
No such luck. I could not sleep at all. Each time I would finally doze into slumber, an angry stiletto-heeled woman would chase me around a snow-covered forest with an extremely sharp icepick. Seriously terrifying stuff! So, my pain meds don't actually work and my sleeping meds now encourage strangely psychotic dreams. I much prefer the final-induced zombie dreams of Chicago, because at least I know how to defeat them by answering questions with absolute certainty (it has been two years now, so I can beat the grad school zombies no problem!). I didn't sleep at all until about 5 am, but I had a doctor's appointment at the hospital at 10:30 for a checkup.
I was in a dreadful state when Phillip and Maggie came to fetch me for yet another taxi ride (not again!). I was still sick to my stomach and thus refused to eat, my head was being chain-sawed from the inside, and I wanted my Mommy! I burst into tears when I saw the doctor arrive (on his day off) and tried desperately to reassure him that I always cried when I'm tired. Turns out, I needed four more medications (bringing my count now to eleven) and he used a nasal drop to clear my passages. Within five minutes, my head hurt noticeably less. He told me that I was never alone, because God was always with me (I wonder which God he meant, but I got the feeling it was the one I pray to). He promised that I would be well this time and wants to see me on Saturday. He's quite incredible, my doctor.
So Phillip and Maggie took me to the little coffee bar beside the hospital (no, I didn't faint this time!) and forced me to eat a sandwich and drink a chai. By the end of our 30 minutes there, I was laughing with the two of them over stodgy old professor jokes (Phillip being a stodgy old professor himself).
I slept last night. No ice-pick dreams (though I did put my stilettos in my bag as I got ready for bed). I don't feel 100%, but its a lot better than the maybe 25% I felt 48 hours ago. Everyone here has been absolutely lovely and caring. I think that if I'm going to have an episode, this was absolutely the place to have it... even if I hadn't been warned by the fortune-teller....
Needless to say, everyone I know here has been in a minor degree of panic because the Westerner blacked out on Saturday. I will admit that I have probably been the person displaying one of the highest levels of anxiety, which has probably not helped the situation much at all. One minute I was wishing my tea would come already so I could sit down (!), the next thing I knew I was being shaken awake from the most lovely dream. Unfortunately, my bed was the coffee-shop floor and there was a crowd of terrified folks trying to assist me to my feet.
"It was a seizure!" One man exclaimed.
"No. No." A woman told him, "It was a heat stroke! Westerners can't handle the Kolkata heat!" (I remember being mildly annoyed by her comment. I had zero clue what was happening, but let me tell you about August in Oklahoma, lady!)
"Can I call someone for you?" A youngish-looking man in a white shirt asked me.
"Aaaaaar..." I groaned as they placed me at the table. "I thhhhink I'mmmm okaaaay. Just neeeeed waterrrrrr...."
They slowly dispersed. I then called Caleb.
"Hiiiieeeee, Callllleeeeeeb," I slurred. My voice and limbs hadn't yet discovered that I was no longer unconscious. "Uuuuuuummmm..... I fainted aaaat Barrrreeestaas aaannnd I need someonnnne to come get meee heeerrrre."
"You're at Barista's? We're coming straight away, Bethany. We'll be there soon." Poor Caleb, he was totally freaked.
I spent the next 25 minutes trying to convince my fingers to grasp the water bottle, contemplating another faint so I could at least lie down again, and praying "Please God let Caleb get here soon. Please God!!!" I finally decided to brave the spiral staircase that led to the second floor bathroom (this is an utterly unfortunate layout for Barista's more sickly clientele) and returned to see Professor Peacock standing at the counter.
"We have a taxi," he told me while taking my pulse. "We're taking you straight away to the hospital to be checked out by a doctor!"
The five minute cab ride was more terrifying than normal. I had zero clue what was happening on the road, but I was certain that my head was about to explode all over the lovely Vishnu sticker on the dashboard.
The hospital was gloriously air conditioned and much cleaner than any American hospital I had seen. I was immediately ushered into a private examination room (take that three-hour long UC emergency room wait because the Student Health Care Center can't see me for three days!). The doctor arrived by the time I had climbed onto the examination table. He was accompanied by a young nurse wearing a crisp blue nurse's dress and starched white cap.
The doctor was very concerned that no one could tell him the exact circumstances of my episode. No, I am not having stomach problems. Yes, I had a good night's sleep the previous night. No, I am not having stomach problems. Yes, I can eat the food. Yes, I am drinking lots of water. No, I have had zero issues with my stomach since arriving one month ago today (note to self: the 20th seems to be a day of bad luck for me in India. June= lost wallet; July= public fainting spell; August= perhaps best not to leave my room that day).
So, we've established that my stomach is handling India quite nicely. Now, we must consider what is actually going on! Turns out my cold is more than an annoying cough and runny nose. I have some viral infection that is quite common among Bengalis during this time of year. The constantly changing weather, mixed with the heat, mixed with the pollution wreaks havoc on the human nasal passages (Kolkata makes Gary, IN, seem like a fresh air lake resort). Mine has spread to my ears, which are now infected, thus causing me to become dizzy and pass out. Good news is: I have already been sick for one week, so I only have another two weeks to go until I am once again clear headed. Bad new is: I cannot travel on an overnight train to Mungeli alone this week (my trip to the Disciples hospital will have to be rescheduled, not canceled). So, with bag full of various drugs and a 500 rupee ER bill (roughly $13 US), I headed back to Bishop's College to sleep.
Sleep is a very optimistic word for my lying down activities over the first two days. The bump on my head made it impossible for me to sleep on my back, but each time I tried to lay on my stomach, the sinus pressure would cause my eyeballs to pop out of their sockets (I write this figuratively, but was in such a massive drug-induced state, I cannot be certain that my eyes actually remained in my head either). For the first time in India, I had stomach problems (go figure!) and could not keep my antibiotics down. I could only bring myself to eat small bites of toast, and I welcomed Maggie's ointment-laden skull massages as I tried vainly to fall asleep.
I began to feel better the following day, and I even welcomed a visit from Teresa (Maggie's younger sister) and Maggie that evening. I was sad to see them go, but it was time for me to get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow, my head would only feel a dull ache instead of the sharp wrenching pain of today.
No such luck. I could not sleep at all. Each time I would finally doze into slumber, an angry stiletto-heeled woman would chase me around a snow-covered forest with an extremely sharp icepick. Seriously terrifying stuff! So, my pain meds don't actually work and my sleeping meds now encourage strangely psychotic dreams. I much prefer the final-induced zombie dreams of Chicago, because at least I know how to defeat them by answering questions with absolute certainty (it has been two years now, so I can beat the grad school zombies no problem!). I didn't sleep at all until about 5 am, but I had a doctor's appointment at the hospital at 10:30 for a checkup.
I was in a dreadful state when Phillip and Maggie came to fetch me for yet another taxi ride (not again!). I was still sick to my stomach and thus refused to eat, my head was being chain-sawed from the inside, and I wanted my Mommy! I burst into tears when I saw the doctor arrive (on his day off) and tried desperately to reassure him that I always cried when I'm tired. Turns out, I needed four more medications (bringing my count now to eleven) and he used a nasal drop to clear my passages. Within five minutes, my head hurt noticeably less. He told me that I was never alone, because God was always with me (I wonder which God he meant, but I got the feeling it was the one I pray to). He promised that I would be well this time and wants to see me on Saturday. He's quite incredible, my doctor.
So Phillip and Maggie took me to the little coffee bar beside the hospital (no, I didn't faint this time!) and forced me to eat a sandwich and drink a chai. By the end of our 30 minutes there, I was laughing with the two of them over stodgy old professor jokes (Phillip being a stodgy old professor himself).
I slept last night. No ice-pick dreams (though I did put my stilettos in my bag as I got ready for bed). I don't feel 100%, but its a lot better than the maybe 25% I felt 48 hours ago. Everyone here has been absolutely lovely and caring. I think that if I'm going to have an episode, this was absolutely the place to have it... even if I hadn't been warned by the fortune-teller....
3 comments:
Just remember --- these are the stories that will make for sparkling dinner conversation10 years from now. The stuff about wishing your stomach would just turn completely inside out and the brain-numbing head pain will seem like quaint memories. I promise.
Glad you are feeling better! I agree with Stephanie...in ten years this will be a fantastic story!
My goodness! What a crazy time you're having! Not too many people can ever say that they passed out in a coffee shop in Kolkata!
~Jen Hovis
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