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Checking Indian hospital hospitality

On a Sunday morning of October, I wake up in Delhi with a pain in the intestine, on the right side, and really nauseous. It’s going to pass… (It’s not like it is the first time I have a tummy upset!)

On Thursday, I am really not well and I go to the doctor – it’s nice, there is a French-speaking doctor in Mumbai!

She suspects an acute appendice, give me antibiotics and send me to do some tests.


The next morning, I do a sonography that I will remember… My bladder was not full ; and she saw the worst things : a cystic lesion, a baby, a lump in my intestine and then another lesion. Once my bladder full, she only saw an expanded appendice!!


I spend the week-end in chemical until the Sunday evening when I give up. I am too nauseous too eat and take my medicine. I call my mummy to cry a bit… I feel so lonely all in a sudden… (I can’t deal with disease, if it is mine; thankfully I am never sick) I know that I could call Emilie or my boss. But somehow I am not good at asking for help…


On Monday afternoon I go back to the doctor, as planned. She decides

(Click on “Lire la suite” to read more)

to get me admitted for 48 hours. Since the pain is not too big and I have no fever and no vomiting, nor the doctor nor the surgeon thinks that I will have to be operated…


It was a small, old hospital. I agreed to stay there because this is where my doctor could visit me.


To be admitted, you have to pay first. I start to have cold sweat thinking I am going to stay in the hospital. The debit card machine does not work; they send me to the ATM! The walk actually helps me release the pressure…

Then I am settled in the « Deluxe » room (one bed, 8 square meters, AC, TV, clean sheets but with fat stain impregnated, clean floor, a lot of hair in the shower plug). My boss comes to check that everything is ok…


On the next morning, I am awaken at 11h by the doctor who asks me if I have passed stools. Mmmhh, well, I have not yet opened my eyes, forget anything else! They did try hard to prevent me from sleeping though, coming every five minutes to change my perfusion, take a blood sample, weigh me (at 6 in the morning!). But I was too tired…


I have befriended all the nurses: I noticed that they were all speaking Malayali and I told them that my husband was also from Kerala. I realized only when the said “husband” had arrived that I had stated that I was not married on the form!

It is quite funny, when you get admitted here, they give you 2 coupons: one for you and one for the person who is going to stay with you. It seemed to startle everyone that no one came to stay with me the first night. Indian way I guess: the whole family would stay if they could!!


I got a small surprise when they gave me the prescription for medicine: though I was in bed, I had to go buy the medicine!! They let me give the money to the boy who bought them for me. And when I left, I had to go the medical shop to get reimbursed for the extra medicine. No way to give it for the poor (“They would not have enough money to be admitted anyway” dixit Shiv).


To cut it short, I spent 2 days reading (thank you Sophie Hannah), watch TV and sleep. I had a good rest (an almost divine peace) and I would honestly not have minded spending some more time there…

A week after I still feel some pain and nausea which is apparently normal…



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