6 Surprising Experiences My Husband and I Had in a Chinese Hospital

IMG_20160616_143841“It’s appendicitis. You need surgery.”

The words echoed through my mind like a bad nightmare. No, this isn’t happening. No, the emergency room doctor surely couldn’t have told me that. It’s impossible. I don’t even feel that bad. I can walk. He can’t be right. How could I need my appendix out?

But the bigger shock, more than the diagnosis, was the prospect of going under the knife in China.

I’ve lived in China for a total of 8 years (including the five and a half years I lived in China in the 2000s) and I’ve seen a lot of hospitals here.

Some reminded me of the hospitals back in the US – bright, clean and with high standards of care.

But others, like this emergency room where I’d just received the diagnosis, were the kind of crowded, sagging, institutional hospitals that made me anxious about surgery.

But if not there, where? We had to find a hospital fast. I knew enough about appendicitis to realize that if you appendix ruptures, it’s much more serious. With every minute I felt a fever coming on, a troubling reminder that I was indeed ill and desperately needing treatment.

Suddenly, my husband remembered his classmate had just transferred to a new Zhejiang University-affiliated international hospital, where she heading the nursing department. We decided to give it a go.

When my husband and I stumbled into the hospital emergency room at sometime after 4am that morning, the two of us never expected that I was about to have more than just a successful appendectomy. That we would have some surprising experiences — including positive experiences that would forever change the way I think about hospitals.

Here are 6 surprising experiences I had while in a Chinese hospital:

(Photo by Wendy via Flickr.com)
(Photo by Wendy via Flickr.com)

#1: Cutting up the hospital pants so I could wear them

We all know the hospital drill – once you’re admitted, you’re asked to strip off all your clothes and put on the hospital clothes. Thankfully, the hospital used hospital shirts and pants (instead of the mortifying hospital gown common across America with that infamous no-privacy slit in the back).

Now imagine my shock when the nurse hands over a pair of pants with a waistband that’s a little too small to fit for comfort. Especially with that wicked tight elastic, guaranteed to torture my already stressed-out stomach.

Yikes!

In retrospect, I should have totally expected this. While I’m an average and popular size in the US, I’ve struggled to fit into things like underwear and even pants in China. And when I do buy, it’s usually online and usually some crazy XXXL or XXXXL size. I know!

But it’s another thing entirely when you’re presented with a pair of pants you have to wear — with the most sadistically small elastic band you’ve ever seen. All because the hospital doesn’t run larger sizes for women.

So there I am, sitting on the toilet in the bathroom, hanging my head half in discomfort from the appendicitis and half because I can’t see how I’ll ever fit into the pants without feeling like my innards are caught in a vice.

Then the nurse says, “Try cutting them,” and hands Jun a pair of scissors. Sure enough, my husband eventually hacks off half of the waistband – and voila! They fit!

Fortunately, after that first day the hospital let me wear my own soft, roomy drawstring pajama pants from home. I don’t know if it was out of sympathy or because it’s too ridiculous to have to chop up hospital pants just to make them wearable. But I’ll take it. Sure beats a hospital gown!

(Photo by SonnyandSandy via Flickr.com)
(Photo by SonnyandSandy via Flickr.com)

#2: Waking up to my appendix in a plastic bag

Disoriented, post-operative me got quite the awakening after coming out of surgery. First the doctor told me how successful the surgery was, leading me to shed tears of relief. And then, as proof of his work, he dangled my appendix above me in a plastic bag.

Did I mention that I gag at the sight of blood and guts?

Someone explained later on that this is common in hospitals in China. They always show patients what they removed from your body, if they removed something. It’s like a visual confirmation that the surgery was completed.

Fortunately I wasn’t wearing any glasses or contacts, so the blurry appendix appeared more like a slimy brown salamander. Thank goodness I didn’t throw up in the recovery room.

Nope, I saved the throwing up for later that evening, when the smell of my husband’s dinner caused me to vomit all over my clothing. Fun times, huh?

My husband looked even more serious -- and pale -- than this photo!
My husband looked even more serious — and pale — than this photo!

#3: That time when a specialist asked my husband to go outside to talk about me…and I thought I was a goner

“I need to speak with your husband outside.”

These have to be the eight deadliest words a doctor could have said to me in the hospital. Back in America, this would be code for, “You’re dead.”

There I was, just after getting my “nether region” checked by a different specialist (I’d rather not say why – embarrassing personal stuff), and the guy asks MY husband to step outside with him. I was already totally unnerved by having a doctor examine me down there, and now he thinks I’m a goner?

Even my husband freaked out. Jun is usually the easygoing side of our duo – the one who’s always laughing and optimistic, who never takes things too seriously. But those eight little words from the specialist drained the all color from his face.

The 30 seconds that elapsed – when the specialist was with Jun in the hallway – had to be one of the scariest moments in my hospital stay. I was laying there on my side, thinking the worst as I clutched the hospital bed in total fear.

Turns out, though, it was nothing serious at all.

It was a totally common, benign problem and they just prescribed some medicine for me. (I was so incredibly relieved when my husband reported this that I began sobbing so loudly two nurses ran into my room to ask what was wrong.)

Later, a nurse told me that it’s typical in Chinese hospitals to speak to the family members, rather than patients, about their care. Even when it’s something totally common and easily treatable, like my case. (But the hospital said they’re hoping to change this and instead communicate more directly with their patients.)

Still, after it all passed, my husband and I actually had a good laugh over it. I swear the image of my husband’s ashen face before going out into the hallway will be forever ingrained in my memory!

IMG_20160620_103926#4: Some of the nicest, most caring nurses I’ve ever met

My experiences with nurses in America and even China have been a mixed bag. Some have been friendly – and others so bored you almost wonder if they’re going to miss your vein for that blood sample. Smiles aren’t a given. Sometimes, you feel more like a commodity than a patient.

Not at this hospital. The nurses who cared for me always walked into my room with huge smiles and an extraordinary willingness to help me in any way they could.

One nurse piled my hair into a neat little bun everyday to make me look nice – and even brought me special breakfasts a couple of times. Others helped me brush my teeth (just after the surgery), wash my hair, and bring me more comfortable pillows. They always looked for the biggest, most comfortable shirts for me wear (remembering that I was that extra-large size compared to the average woman who stayed in the hospital).

The nurses there really made me feel like they cared about me as a person. It was a powerful experience. I fully believe that their warmth and positive energy was just as critical to my recovery as the medical care I received.

IMG_20160619_080033#5: Really good food (including dumplings) from a hospital!

We’ve all heard the jokes about hospital food. And we all know dining in a hospital room usually comes with even lower expectations than airplane grub. So the last thing I ever expected was to come out of the hospital raving about the food.

That’s right – I actually liked the hospital food.

When the hospital found out I was a vegetarian, they sent down the head of their nutrition department, who worked up a special menu of stomach-friendly stir-fried veggies (served with rice porridge). That first evening, they sent me a dinner of pumpkin and winter melon. During the whole meal, I couldn’t stop saying “mmmmm” with every bite. Even my husband, who cleaned up my leftovers, had to agree the dishes were exceptionally tasty.

As my stomach became accustomed to more food, they even prepared me vegetarian dumplings from scratch filled with tofu and greens, served in a broth reminiscent of won-ton soup. Delish!

IMG_20160620_115142#6: Changing the way I see hospitals for the good

I’ve always had a certain dislike of hospitals and health care, and I trace it back to a traumatic experience I had in the hospital as a toddler. They had to forcibly strap me down to stitch up a gash in my forehead. It was so upsetting that it’s still a part of my subconscious, forever linking nurses, doctors and hospitals in my mind with really negative experiences.

But this hospital in China completely changed my perceptions.

The doctors in the hospital weren’t just skilled medical professionals (who left me with almost no visible scars from the surgery). They were also friendly, easygoing people who put me at ease and even had me smiling. One of the doctors was always laughing when he came to my room, and his laughter was a welcome sight in the hospital.

Add to that the incredible nursing care as well as the food, and it’s no wonder I feel grateful to have landed in such an excellent hospital. I never imagined that, in my emergency situation, I’d end up with great care.

Thank you, Zhejiang University International Hospital, for showing me what a hospital really should be.

Have you ever been in the hospital in China or abroad? What experiences did you have?

Love (in China) in the Time of a Crisis

Barbed wire fence in the shape of a heart
(photo by sallydell)

Just this weekend, John and I weathered two crises.

One happened with this site — my host decided to turn off his server by the end of this month. I suddenly realized that I couldn’t move things like I expected, my old host wasn’t responsive, and I didn’t know where to find someone who could help me in time (thank you Sorella Design, for the extraordinary hosting and moving help, and BlogVault, which made it possible to get my databases and files off my former host).

The other happened with John — he didn’t get an internship, and now he’s scrambling to get applications together for the next round by Thursday, March 1. 

But it’s our love that keeps us moving forward. And that got me thinking about all the times on this site when I’ve written about love in China and crises. So, to give this writer a chance to catch her breath, I’m sharing a few classic crisis-related entries for anyone who could use a little more drama. (Yeah, right 😉 )

Love in the Time of Stomach Inflammation. What should have been a romantic night together for John and I turned into a night at the hospital.

On the Border, at the Public Security Bureau. When I had to face the Public Security Bureau in Hangzhou — and the consequences of my expired visa — John stayed by my side.

Negotiating For My Life in China. One thing I always admired about John — he’s a fighter. See how he helped me fight against my former boss in China.

Love in the Time of SARS.When SARS struck Shanghai, John and I were still a young couple in love, trying to hold onto that romance in the midst of this deadly viral outbreak.

How has love helped you through the hard times?

Chapter 59: Going to the Hospital in China

Xiangya Hospital
Going to the hospital in China didn't mean my cough was serious. But it came just at a time when a more serious illness began to threaten China.

Going to the hospital. Before I came to China, the phrase seemed so serious, a harbinger of bad news — in the US, only those with a sickness or problem beyond the family doctor would visit the hospital.

But in China, hospitals handled everything, from minor colds to major surgery. You could not divine the severity of a problem just because someone went to the hospital.

That someone going to a hospital, one evening in mid-March, 2003, was me — a young foreigner gripped with a relentless, raw cough. I felt so sickly before John, my Chinese boyfriend, who never took ill because, unlike me, he had met much of the bacteria and viruses in China once before in his lifetime. My health had been a source of consternation before, and still was. So this evening, as we walked into the hospital, John wrapped his arm around me, gently stroking my shoulder to comfort me, like a parent soothing a doctor-phobic young child. Continue reading “Chapter 59: Going to the Hospital in China”

Chapter 34: Love in the Time of Stomach Inflammation

IV drip
Sometimes you hope for romance in China -- and instead, you end up with an IV drip, and your Chinese boyfriend caring for you.

When you’re in love, and only see each other every two weeks, on the weekends, you romanticize every meeting. You want it to be as perfect as a Tang-dynasty couplet, and script out the possibilities even before your lover arrives. You practice a new phrase, such as wàngchuānqiūshuǐ (望穿秋水 – awaiting you with great anxiety), to say when he comes, and might just even stand on the streets with roses to greet him — just as I had before.

After my painful meeting with Mr. Fang, I romanticized the arrival of John, my Chinese boyfriend, on the weekend of December 13, 2002, even agreeing to meet John at the Hangzhou railway station, as if I was starring in some dramatic reunion scene in a movie.

Except, real life often departs from your own script. Sometimes, you hope for romance — and what you get, instead, is stomach inflammation.

I should have felt it coming, the way I inexplicably collapsed into his arms during the taxi ride home. It wasn’t like me to feel so drained. I expected it was simply the lingering stress of Mr. Fang’s confrontation, weighing on my exhausted frame. A good night’s sleep, with John, my Chinese boyfriend, by my side, would surely restore me.

Or not. Continue reading “Chapter 34: Love in the Time of Stomach Inflammation”