Being sick here was quite miserable; being sick away from home is never fun. And being stuck in bed for a whole week is never fun either. So for about a week and a half I really couldn't eat anything - I was constantly nauseated and weak. No fun. In the middle of the week, we decided it was time to go see a doctor. So our driver, Susai, picked up Sheena and I (who was also sick) and took us to the "hospital" run by a Catholic convent/church on the other side of Ooty. We were greeted by a woman who we are assuming was an actual doctor.. She spoke some English, but it seemed like a lot of what we were saying was going a bit over her head - she wasn't really seeming to understand what our problem was, which was cause for frustration. Sometimes she even laughed at us when we shared a symptom. She decided Sheena needed a drip, much to her disagreement.. So we were forced to stay at the hospital for a couple of hours. She told me she wanted to give me an injection too, which I managed to talk her out of (I've never heard of getting an injection for a stomach problem!) She then insisted we lay down in bed and sleep..
But funnily enough, that was when she started asking us about our beliefs - "Do you believe in God? Do you believe in Jesus? Do you believe in the mother Mary?" Then began the passionate scolding about how we should respect the mother Mary and how she can intercede for us because she is the blood of Jesus, and how we should pray to our parents once they are gone from this earth because they are ALWAYS our parents, and will always take care of us, even from heaven.. and so on. Now you know me, I'm always up for a good discussion of issues, but when you feel like you want to rip your stomach out of your body and you're being force fed in order to take pills that you actually don't know what they are, being told that you should pray and believe differently by a "doctor" in a half-clean bed in an Indian "hospital" isn't exactly the most welcomed situation.
Eventually she laughed at us for what we believed and how we disagreed, gave us some pills, including antibiotics, and sent us on our way. I spent the next few days in bed.. and eventually ventured out back to the office after being sick from Monday to the following Wednesday a week and a half later. However, after taking the antibiotics, I still didn't feel like I could eat anything.. so we took another trip to the hospital - a DIFFERENT one this time. I saw the doctor who asked me some questions, listened to my answers, didn't laugh at me or try to convert me to Catholicism or Hinduism or anything.. I was in and out in about 10 minutes with a diagnosis (something I didn't really get at the first hospital..) and some pills. Turns out I had some type of gastro/stomach infection and dehydration (wasn't much of a surprise). After just a few days of these pills I'm back on my feet! I can eat again (although not much of the food we eat is particularly appetizing after eating the same things for 2 months straight) But I have my energy back, which feels GREAT!
It was definitely an experience, and a bit of a "rite of passage" for foreigners living in India. However, I am EXTREMELY grateful that it is over. Thank you to anyone who was praying for my recovery - your prayers were heard, and I am no longer miserably laying in bed desperately craving home. So, I thank you.
As always, questions, emails, and mail are welcomed :)
Much love,
Bronte.
The Indians struggle with spelling my name a bit... then again, so do the Americans ;)
