Let me start by saying that my surgery and subsequent stay in the hospital was without mishap. I am now back at my apartment at the school and convalescing. I had wanted to start back to teaching today (Tuesday), but the Foreign Affairs Office decided, without me, that I should wait until Thursday. Not wanting to cause any more trouble for them, I decided to go along with it. I am now making sure I walk father each day and try to increase my activity slowly; my windows need a good cleaning and my floors need to be swept. We’ll see how the classes go on Thursday. I hope they won’t tire me out too much, but I have a feeling I’ll be tuckered out by the end of the day.
This post will be the first of many about my hospital stay. There was a lot of material during those 6 days, so I’m going to split it up into short posts instead of trying to cover it all in 2 or 3.
In my room, there were 3 of us patients. I had the bed in the middle of the two others. The man on my right was middle-aged and in for a hernia repair, just like me; it was fun to have someone there who was going through the same thing, even though we couldn’t really talk about it. The man on my left was in for pancreatitis, and he is an important part of this post. I’m not sure what all he had done (what do you have done for pancreatitis?), but when I left yesterday, he said he had been there for 9 days, though he would be leaving the next day.
Each day his mom would stay with him all day, and then around 7 his wife would come in and take the night shift. Over the course of my stay, my translator talked to them a bit, so we got to know each other. By the end of my stay, we were like a little community, a community of lazy invalids and industrious caretakers. When my translator/caretaker would go home for the night, the wife was always quick to help me if I needed something. I was lucky to have such nice roommates.
One night, when her husband was back to solid food, she brought in a dish that smelled just like my mom’s chicken soup. That smell brought me right back home. I told my translator that it reminded me of home. She told the couple, who quickly offered to share. I declined, though I would have liked to taste it. Then my translator related how my mom had been so concerned about me that she even said she would fly over to take care of me (as crazy as it sounds, I think she was only partly joking). The couple laughed at that and said that mothers are the same no matter where they are from, as the man’s mother had been there everyday attending him with the care and concern that only a mother possesses. It was heartwarming, though it made me a little homesick as well.
This post will be the first of many about my hospital stay. There was a lot of material during those 6 days, so I’m going to split it up into short posts instead of trying to cover it all in 2 or 3.
In my room, there were 3 of us patients. I had the bed in the middle of the two others. The man on my right was middle-aged and in for a hernia repair, just like me; it was fun to have someone there who was going through the same thing, even though we couldn’t really talk about it. The man on my left was in for pancreatitis, and he is an important part of this post. I’m not sure what all he had done (what do you have done for pancreatitis?), but when I left yesterday, he said he had been there for 9 days, though he would be leaving the next day.
Each day his mom would stay with him all day, and then around 7 his wife would come in and take the night shift. Over the course of my stay, my translator talked to them a bit, so we got to know each other. By the end of my stay, we were like a little community, a community of lazy invalids and industrious caretakers. When my translator/caretaker would go home for the night, the wife was always quick to help me if I needed something. I was lucky to have such nice roommates.
One night, when her husband was back to solid food, she brought in a dish that smelled just like my mom’s chicken soup. That smell brought me right back home. I told my translator that it reminded me of home. She told the couple, who quickly offered to share. I declined, though I would have liked to taste it. Then my translator related how my mom had been so concerned about me that she even said she would fly over to take care of me (as crazy as it sounds, I think she was only partly joking). The couple laughed at that and said that mothers are the same no matter where they are from, as the man’s mother had been there everyday attending him with the care and concern that only a mother possesses. It was heartwarming, though it made me a little homesick as well.
When I was packing for the hospital, I brought the heart in the picture with me, a sort of good luck charm. My mom slipped it in my suitcase before I left without me knowing it was there. I hung it above my bed when I got to my room in the hospital. One day, it came up in conversation between me and my translator. She and the other woman from Foreign Affairs had seen it and thought one of the nurses had given it to me (if only!).
That’s all for now. Stay tuned for a slew of other small updates. I didn’t think to bring my camera, it wouldn’t have been right to be taking pictures of the hospital. You all will just have to get along with my vivid and evocative descriptions. Zai jian for now.
That’s all for now. Stay tuned for a slew of other small updates. I didn’t think to bring my camera, it wouldn’t have been right to be taking pictures of the hospital. You all will just have to get along with my vivid and evocative descriptions. Zai jian for now.