Friday, February 24, 2012

How To Scare Your Indian Outlaws Into Submission

Okay so maybe submission isn't the best word for the overall situation but it does apply to this one instance. I bet you guys have already guessed this is about Uncle jerk. I think, considering the war is over for now I'll go back to uncle ji. Yes, I'm a woman, we change our minds like that and he surprised me by stepping up to the plate this time so I must give credit where credit is due.

Up until last Monday Uncle ji and Chachi had not spoken to me in about 6 weeks. They barely spoke to any of us but I had noticed over the preceding weekend that Chachi and MIL were on the terrace laughing about something and noticed how long it had been since that happened. So, back tracking a little, after all this surgery and infection mess I was feeling like I needed a cup of tea to regulate my digestion on Sunday night. I got half a cup because hubby was overly concerned about the caffeine which I'm only supposed to have in small amounts and much to my stubborn defiance he cited all the chocolate I had as being close enough to my limit already. I was stuck with no argument left and so I settled for half a cup. Lol.

About an hour after I drank it I started feeling like my stomach had soured. I had specifically asked for my cows milk but MIL had used the house buffalo milk instead. Though I wasn't happy about it I figured it would pass and so I stated my opinion and left the issue alone. I woke up Monday morning with the same sour stomach. So I ate something that I thought would settle it and for a little while was feeling better so I went and gave blood work to the lab for a follow up test on my hormone levels. Then I showered and got sick in the shower. I thought that had settled the sour tummy issue and thus resolved never to drink MIL's tea again.

I got really tired around 2 PM and fell asleep and when I woke up around 5 PM I knew it wasn't over. I was in a great deal of pain and could barely move. It took a while but I managed to get up off the bed in my room where I was completely alone and start working my way downstairs for the bathroom. I had to hold to both walls in the stair well and I was moving so slow. I barely made it half the way down the stairs before Chachi came out of her room (which is in view of the stairs partially) to ask if I was okay. I tried to answer but didn't have enough strength for any sound to come out of my mouth at that point. She took one look at me and I could see the panic in her face and she ran for everyone else.

The family was in a full fledged panic by this point and I have no doubt I looked like death warmed over just from their reactions. They started calling hubby who was still at work and trying to get him home. In the mean time FIL came home and they alerted him to the situation. By that point I had gone back up to my room to get back in bed because I couldn't hold myself up to do much more than that. I was burning hot and also cold, shivering, nauseous and more.

MIL came up shortly after along with Chachi and the kids (to translate) and asked me all the details and what was wrong. Then they went back to relay the message to FIL who by this time was yelling at hubby over the phone about why he wasn't home yet. (Of course, having to stop to answer the phone so many times will slow you down you know. I swear the boy needs headphones so he can talk and drive.) Next thing I know MIL was back in the room telling me to get ready and I knew I had to though I must admit I wasn't sure I had the strength to get up. That and the restrictions I'm on (including not bending over) would make changing out of my pjs or putting on socks a major ordeal.

I sat up and grabbed my medications and my medical file from the doctor about the surgery and made my way to the close and got out a jacket. MIL came back into the room (the poor woman was running up and down the steps like crazy by this point) and she put my socks on for me and commented about the pjs and I declined to change. I have very little dignity left already I wasn't about to ask her to help me change my pants though I'm quite sure she would.

I got my dupatta and she ran downstairs ahead of me and that gave me a minute to try to call hubby who still wasn't home and pray he could get there before FIL tried to put me on the back of a motorcycle. MIL came back to get me and I had to hang up before reaching him but I was getting really nervous. I had to make my way back downstairs and I went as slow as I could go praying hubby would show up soon. I got down the first set and everyone was standing there waiting for me and FIL had his jacket on and with hubby still not home I started to panic. I had to fight back the tears so I could still talk though and tell FIL I couldn't ride on the bike.

I stumbled through it and he asked if I wanted a rickshaw and I said I didn't know they would have to ask hubby what the doctor said was allowed (because I'm on some pretty tight restrictions). Next thing I know Uncle ji grabbed his coat and said he would drive me in the car. (He's the only male in the family that knows how to drive the car lol....hubby quit his driving lessons.) I was surprised but wasn't going to argue. So I then started making my way down the second set of stairs to get to the ground floor as slowly as possibly, still praying hubby would hurry up and get home.

I got to the bottom and sat down to rest a little while and asked them to wait for hubby but they were terrified and told me not to wait. I know how things normally go when I'm sick and I have to say I must have looked really bad for them to be this scared because in the past they've waited for him. I couldn't argue so I went out and got in the car and they drove me to the doctor (not the hospital where I had been going). I was a little disappointed to see it was the doctor I've named Dr. Quack (he gives all his patients the same pills no matter what you come in for - I've seen it many times and he's also racist and every time I go he has something rotten to say about English people....which I'm not even English!)

They don't know I call him Dr. Quack and stopped seeing him last summer though, they just know he's the closest western educated doctor around here. I know they felt they had to but FIL and Ashu went into the doctors chamber with me and that made me uncomfortable. I was sick enough though that the discomfort didn't matter and I knew they were only there for translation purposes. I did ask Ashu to leave the room because I felt it was inappropriate for him to be there given some of the things I had to say. Still no hubby! (I had texted him where we were so he didn't freak out.)

So I started telling the doctor about the surgery in a slow tone of voice to make sure he understood. I used medical terms too so it would be even easier for him. Then he wanted to know what was wrong and I told him all of that and hubby finally walked in and replaced FIL. That was a huge relief. Dr. Quack prescribed me his miracle pack just as suspected. This miracle pack consists of one pink, one green and one white pill broken in half and it always has 3 doses - all unmarked by the way. I felt so disappointed with that. After prescribing me the pills he then took my temperature and it had dropped down to 96 (which is a sign of a low grade infection).

Hubby took down Dr. Quacks number and took the pills and my information to a better doctor and this doctor gave me a different set of prescriptions - all in clearly labeled packaging. Of course I googled them and checked them out before taking them to make sure I knew what they were and if they were okay to take and they were.

Uncle ji drove me home and I went back up to my room and the good doctor said I needed to eat. At this point I hadn't digested any food all day and he was concerned quite a bit about that. I argued my way down from a glass of milk to a very dry Nature Valley granola bar. I just couldn't accept milk would ever be good for a sick person no matter what half of India tells me. The whole family came up to my room again after the doctors office (not everyone fits in the car so Chachi stayed back with the kids) and Uncle ji proceeded to tell me that my room has fungus and that he's now going to teach me yoga so I don't get sick so much.

I was too weak to argue so I just nodded my head and said okay we could do that when I get off of bed rest. I'm not buying the fungus thing anyway. I'm quite sure the buffalo milk that was in the tea is what did this to me and that's the reason I had been avoiding it for the last 6+ months and buying cows milk instead. I can't prove it was the tea but considering I was doing well until I drank it, I'm sure it was.

So since I saw Dr. Quack I'm not sure if this was food poison or another stomach infection but I'm glad it's over now. Usually food poison lasts longer than this did and doesn't mimic infections though. Since then the family is talking again and Chachi even came to check up on me again on Tuesday. Not that I recommend it but if your family ever gets split over petty disputes, nothing like a good medical nightmare to bring them all back together.

3 comments:

  1. I'm sure the buffalo milk was the issue, it's high in fat, and less digest than the cows milk, not to mention that depending how you buy it it might not even be sanitary in the first place.
    When we first moved in there last august, my maid thought the cows milk we bought was too costly, and she also questionned the soy milk we give my daughter (she has trouble digesting cows milk) because she looked thiner than most toddlers are so she found a guy who sells fresh buffalo milk in milk cans to come and try to sell us some, DH said that no it wasn't necessary, because we don't drink much milk here anyway. I think my maid still find our eating habits odd after all that time :)

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  2. I sincerely hope your recovery is much less eventful from here out.

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  3. Lol, the maids never understand. I buy the Nestle boxed milks. Not exactly high quality but I do feel safest with them. I don't drink much milk either.

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