Being Sick in India

Being sick is never fun for anyone. In the US, I hardly ever missed school because I was sick. Here, on the other hand, everyone is sick all the time. During monsoon season, it is impossible to keep anything hygienic. Even in one of the richest localities in Delhi (Defence Colony, where all rich expatriates live) the Delhi Jal Board (water organization) is being sued because dirty sewage water has burst from the pipes and into the drinking water supply, contaminating all the water being used with fecal matter.

Uh, can anyone say GROSS?! That’s disgusting, but because of that reason, when my roommates and I fell ill (for the first time) on Thursday the 18^th of August, we didn’t think much of it. We had had our first meal cooked by our cook, and we figured she had just used dirty water, and that was why we were all unable to leave a radius of 5 feet from the bathroom.

Saturday came, and we adventured all around Delhi, acting as tourists. Nick and Aileen felt better, but I was still having problems. By the end of the night, my abdomen was so distended I looked like one of my former students in Tanzania. On the Metro, multiple women offered me seats (an act of heroic proportions-- getting a seat on the Metro is a battle) because they thought I was pregnant and my face made me look like I was miscarrying.

Since it was a long weekend (thank you, random Indian/Muslim/Christian/Sheikh holidays!) we had no school until Tuesday, so I spent my time resting. I went back to school on Tuesday, and was greeted by choruses of “Ma’am, Ma’am, you look very bad, Ma’am”. I felt weak and lightheaded. Wednesday morning, I went to school, but promptly left at the morning meeting, as I started to pass out.

I rickshawed my way to the Max Medical Center (the most efficient doctor’s office I’ve ever been to) registered, and because of my nasty pallor and general facial expression (one man told me I looked like I was an unfriendly ghost), I was bumped up to the head of the line, and quickly admitted into the doctor’s office. Shortest. Wait. Ever.

Shortest. Visit. Ever. In a country where becoming a doctor is the desire of at least half the population, you have to wonder where they all went. India exports a large number of its’ doctors, leaving only 1 doctor for every 1000 Indians. There are more Indian doctors in the US than there are in India (The Times of India). Crazy.

The glorious rehydrating IV

So I was quickly ushered in, and within three minutes of describing my symptoms, getting my blood pressure taken (uhoh, 90 over 50!), and getting my abdomen patted down, I was ushered out of the room.  It was discovered that I had a bacterial infection in my spleen and stomach, dehydration, low blood pressure, and general weakness caused by malnutrition, seeing as I hadn’t kept any food in for a week. I was then triaged, carried to a bed, hooked up to IV drips, and injected with tons of medicine, along with being rehydrated with IV fluids.



BED REST! BED REST!



I spent the next two days at home resting, Facebook chatting, watching Star Wars, and chugging water like it was my job. And then I went to Jaipur, because, let’s be honest, I was going to be sick no matter what, and I was much happier being sick on top of an elephant than in my bed!!