In the Hospital : Part 1

Day 1: Thursday

There are some new Russian words I've learned since being in the hospital.  Words I hear a lot and that are spoken to me often.  The first one I learned was плакать, to weep, a word spoken to me often the first day, "не плачь,” don't cry, because I was crying too much.  The nurses, my interpreter, the doctors all kept telling me not to cry, it would all be okay, “все хорошо”.  The next word I heard, and it’s a good thing I did, was ректум, rectum, or else I wouldn't have had any warning before the doctor stuck his hand up there. Looking back I’m not sure if it really is a Russian word or just an attempt at English.  Then there is миома, that may or may not be how it is spelled, it isn't a word in the dictionary I brought to the hospital, it is myoma the name here for the tumor I have in my uterus causing all the trouble.  The first word I looked up was the word for pain, валит, a word I hear a lot now that I know it.  Then операция, operation.  Not a pleasant word went spoken to you in a hospital bed in English, but much less so in Russian, that being the only word you understood in a sentence. My roommate is teaching me some words as we try to communicate.  She also speaks french, so sometimes I don't know if the words she is trying to use to communicate are Russian or French.  But what is amazing is that somehow we have communicated a great deal.  My first day I tried to ask her what her name was but she answered by telling me that she was two months pregnant but the next day she would find out if, "yes baby, no baby."  The next day she went early to her diagnostic and later she announced, "no baby."  From bed to bed we also learned that both our parents are divorced, that her father is a little crazy and drinks a lot and doesn't really talk to his sons, only "как дела?" "хорошо и все” (how are you, fine, and that is it).  He came that day to visit her, petite like her, a very quiet man, few words, just a few kisses on the cheek and then he was gone.  I had no words to tell her sorry, I used the word извините which is an excuse me, type of sorry.  I looked up the word I wanted for sorry but didn't have the courage to say it, worrying that it might not mean what I wanted to say and also she was a little drowsy from the operation to remove what was left of her "no baby." 

Day 2: Friday

Today I woke up to nothing.  No idea what would happen to me today, how to get food or water, when the doctor would come, how to get any information.  About 9am I walked into the hall and told a few people "Я хочу пить," I want to drink.  I tried to tell them I don't drink tea, I told everyone I don't drink tea, I just want water but an hour later they showed up with a glass of lukewarm tea.  I drank it because I was so thirsty I didn't really care at that moment.  Yesterday as they dragged me from room to room, blood tests, examinations, ultrasounds, hobbling and sobbing around the dreary hospital, I was begging them for water, a service they don’t provide at the hospital.  Also, toilet paper, cups, slippers, anything to distract or entertain you that you might desire.  These things you must bring from home.  I this morning I think the lady acting as my translator had pity on me and probably bought me water with her own money. 

Soon a kind-looking older doctor with a crutch came in and asked me what my name was, he leaned his crutch against a chair in the room and sat on my bed asking to feel my stomach.  He had old hands and I tried to ask him what he would happen to me today.  He said "ничего" nothing, another new word, but within the hour another nurse came to fetch me for what I learned would be another ultrasound, and then it was back to one of the examination rooms where 4 women doctors, a few nurses and the older doctor from earlier waited for me.  I dropped my pants and got on the table where one after the other, several of them had a chance to examine me.  I kept thinking, is this some sort of training exercise?  The only word I was catching from all of this was "большой" big.  I was crying, even though these newer doctors were actually smiling at me and trying to be nice, unlike the one from yesterday who assaulted my gut like it had insulted her mother, or Kazakhstan, or this hospital.  I tried to tell them I want to know what you are saying, this is why I am crying.  They got the gist but thought I was cute because they kept smiling while I kept weeping.  Finally my interpreter  (not really an interpreter, as we found out later, just a woman in the marketing department who speaks decent English) showed up and told me that they all agreed I needed an operation and that operation would be on Monday,  понедельник.  They told me I would be able to have kids (a contradiction to what they had told me yesterday, that I would not be likely to have kids) but only by c-section because they would cut me to get the tumor out.  It was a stressful moment because all 7 of them were staring at me, watching my cry.  I was trying to keep it together to ask them questions but they would all talk loudly about me (I know because of the pointing) while I was trying to talk to my interpreter. Hmf.  

 I agreed that it should come out before I try and have kids, however, their suggested method of treating the tumor was opposite to what my doctor at home recommended.  This confused me.  I know the tumor has grown but it just seemed so strange that they would tell me if I did it his way I wouldn't be able to have kids but if I did it their way I would when he told me almost exactly opposite.  I still don't understand.  I told Scott to put my parents on that, to ask some doctors back home about what they would do.  

Of course then they stuck a needle in my butt with antibiotics, or that is what they said, although I'm not sure about that because later a woman came and gave me another arm injection telling me that was antibiotics, too.  It made me wonder if they were just saying that since it seemed to calm me down every time I asked,” Что это?” What is this?