There have been many themes this year, and one theme that has definitely made it different is encounters with the healthcare system, especially in the last couple of weeks. It all started with a visit to a sport science specialist to undergo my first MRI. In China, I strained my side and had a poultice of sorts applied. (I think that's a first as well.) Back I developed a hernia and had an ultrasound of my groin. And then finally the attention went off me: we had a student in hospital with meningitis, a teacher in for his kidneys, another student in for appendicitis all at the same time. (I could go between three floors to see different people!) And then we had another student who had a "bad acid trip" and was spun into psychosis - that was a long day, departing the hospital at 3am with a guard at the room.
But the real show was my first non-dental surgical procedure, the hernia repair. I always remember my sister occasionally using the word "hernia" when I was young, in a phrase of exasperation she picked up from somewhere. Until I saw it on my own person, its appearance or causes were a point of ignorance. I remember the first sensation of it while running - I thought it was my hip flexor. But then I ran the Rotorua Half Marathon and it was excruciating. I was perplexed because it was painful yet my pace was fine, perhaps hinting that it wasn't part of running machinery. After finishing I looked in the mirror while changing and lo-and-behold there was a hernia, a bulge beneath my flesh. After a trip to a GP and confirmation with that ultrasound I was put on the waiting list. Incredibly the GP gave me the green-light to continue running. And the symptoms weren't major and it faded into the background but it remained there through three more half marathons and two full ones. When the surgeon did his preliminary examination in September I'd just finished the first full one of the year where it had caused no trouble at all. Fitness means the recovery could potentially be faster, and the muscles in that area are stronger. The doctor said the surgery would probably be in November, and with my running schedule in mind I asked for mid-December. And although with arrangements for my parents-in-law's visit to NZ making that not quite as ideal as it was looking, it fell as well as it could really.
I left one hospital for our psychotic student two days before entering another for the surgery. Not surprisingly it was a very different experience. My evening teacher, who has one of the most caring, responsible hearts for his students in our school (we're blessed with a few!), took the student there on Friday night at 9pm by taxi and sat with the student at the hospital awaiting the psych team who would be coming "soon". My teacher is special too in that he can get stressed or aggravated when things aren't as they should be and when I realised the medical cavalry hadn't arrived after an hour. I got myself back together after an already long day and headed to the hospital. The student "John" (not his real name) had been acting very differently in the two weeks prior to it coming ahead. Twice we tried to get him to a doctor and twice he disappeared just as we were getting organised. The day before his admission I'd given him three choices in the order of my preference: (1) He goes to the doctor to find out what's going on; (2) he withdraws and goes back to Colombia; or (3) I treat him like a normal student and we write up his final Student Study Agreement, which if broken would result in his withdrawal and the cancellation of his visa. I gave him 24 hours to think about it. The next day John found me and said he'd like to be treated like a normal student. This was good to hear even if he still didn't seem quite right yet. He was confused that I went through with serving him his "agreement" but then went off to class. The next night he finally levelled with his teacher. He took 15 LSD tabs at a party two weeks ago and he never "came down". His emotions were not under control and he was hearing things and hallucinating. He'd had suicidal thoughts. The teacher ended the class early and they went to the hospital.
My teacher was focussed tightly on the student's needs. The main doctor, R, came in and out but never really communicated with us about the plan and timeline. John was restless and kept calling himself stupid, muttering in and out of English and Spanish. At one point he reached for some power cords intimating that he'd strangle himself. On one walkabout he tried to make a break for the door which the teacher physically prevented himself. "Have you asked for him to be watched?" we were asked. Was it our place to ask? I replied, quickly following it up with an affirmation that we really needed him watched. We kept asking the nurses for guidance about when the psych team was coming. It eventually came out that because it had to be done in Spanish, it'd likely be tomorrow! So at 3am we left and I drove the teacher home. We reassembled at 2pm the next day to speak to a psych doctor and nurse and then left at 5:30pm with the plan set. Overall A&E wasn't a great experience.
Then it was Monday and I received a call - do I want my hernia surgery on Tuesday? With a moment's hesitation I accepted. And after a hussle to prepare everyone for my absence, I was off to the physio for my contusion, sleep and then my date with a scalpel arrived. And what a difference. Everyone, and you must meet a dozen people in the process, was very kind and clear. Every time my blood pressure was taken it set off the alarm for low pulse. They asked the same questions and checked everything. Even in the operating room they were asking about my job, learning language and then... I woke up three hours later. Then the nurses took me to a room where I watched a little TV, assured the world of my smooth surgery and generally took my time. By 5pm my mother had arrived. And I already had the discharge in my hand and a bag full of pills.
Convalescence is sweet. It's like the perfect kind of holiday for a person like myself. I have lots of discreet time to attend to a large range of tasks and interests with no-one else really to disturb me. One day down, two more to go and I'll say that hernia repair was a good choice just for the benefit of time to myself!
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