I am very close with my family so when there is anything wrong with me I go to them for advice right away. Even though I know what to expect from each person already.
My sister will give me a worst case scenario diagnosis.
Me: *cough *cough
My sister: "You have tuberculous, you need to go see a doctor. "
Which then I usually ignore because one way or another, whatever is wrong with me always equals a hospital visit.
My dad blames my sickness on my awesome social life.
Me: "My tonsils are swollen"
Dad: "You need to stop drinking so much."
Me: "I tore a ligament in my knee."
Dad: "You go out too much, you know you do have a home."
Which then I usually ignore because I love my social life.
And my Mom will treat me like I am taking my last few breaths on earth.
Me: "I have a cold."
(3 hours later)
Mom: "I went to the store, I got you Tylenol cold, NyQuil, DayQuil, lemons, tea, some new patches that will help you with congestion, some herbal tea in 7 flavors and 6 different kinds of soups."
Which then I usually eat up because who doesn't like being babied by their mother?
And this time was no different. I told my family that my athlete's foot got infected (I didn't mention it was after a 2 day rave where I spent 32 hours dancing in my tennis shoes) and my foot had swelled 4 times its normal size.
My sister
"You have staph and the infection can get in your blood, you have to go to a hospital. You know they can amputate your foot right?"
My dad
First he gave me sound advice on how to treat my foot. But then of course he told me, "You ought to keep your butt home sometime."
My sister
"You have staph and the infection can get in your blood, you have to go to a hospital. You know they can amputate your foot right?"
My dad
First he gave me sound advice on how to treat my foot. But then of course he told me, "You ought to keep your butt home sometime."
My mom
Shipped me some Tin-actin, new inserts for my shoes and bought me new shoes.
Shipped me some Tin-actin, new inserts for my shoes and bought me new shoes.
But as I did in the past, I ignored the warnings figuring that one way or another it would heal itself. WRONG. 2 days later my foot was not only huge but my ankle and calf also swelled up and I had shooting pains. Still ignoring my sisters advice to go to a hospital instead that Monday I went to a clinic and saw a doctor there. The doctor prescribed me some antibiotics, gave me some cream and sent me on my way. I thought I was in the clear, 3 days of antibiotics and taking it easy at most and then back to normal. No instead I got 3 more days of even worse shooting pains, I was limping around, I had a fever and my foot and ankle swelled up MORE.
But I still didn't think it was hospital worthy. I continued to teach, ignoring my families advice along with the pleas from my co-teachers to allow them to take me to the hospital. The was no way I was going. And then Friday came along. I woke up to an email from my mom. It was a link to a website about staph infections. First listing the symptoms, swelling, pain, redness and fever... I had them all. Then showing what could happen, blood infection, skin burns, bone infection and potentially death. Not exactly something one wants to read before breakfast.
It was then I decided that I should probably go to the hospital. I went to work first and I taught all of my classes and had lunch, I was trying to prolong making this trip but my co-teachers realized what I was doing, called me a cab and sent me on my way.
There are not many things I fear. But number one on the list are hospitals. I hate hospitals, they terrify me. They mere thought of them gives me the chills. At the ripe age of 24, before this visit, I had never gone to the hospital with out my older sister or Mom in tow, I am that reluctant to go and I am that afraid of them. After being dropped off at the hospital I sat outside for about 20 minutes, Google searching home cures for staph. No luck. So I went in. After checking in I had to wait, the doctor was at lunch. I can't ever control my emotions when I am in a hospital so while I was sitting there my palms started to sweat and I was unable to sit still. I started a conversation with my sister. The conversation was going fine until she said, "you're probably going to have to stay a few days."
First tears started running down my face. It was like a dam had broken in my eye sockets. I couldn't stop the tears from coming. Then I started to have a panic attack. I couldn't catch my breath, my thoughts were scattered and I was shaking. I put my head between my knees trying to get myself together, it was ridiculous, I hadn't even stepped into the Doctor's office or received a real diagnosis and I was already a mess. There I was, a tall black person with big curly hair sitting in the middle of a Korean hospital as if I already didn't stand out enough now I then started to cry and breathe as if I had just run for my life, needless to say EVERYBODY was staring at me. I couldn't even be embarrassed, I was too worried about just being there, who cared what people thought about me. It took a few minutes but I finally pulled myself together just in time to be called into see the doctor.
The doctor visit was short. I sat down he looked at my foot and in broken English told me he was going to give me antibiotics. I then told showed him my previous prescription. After he looked over it he told me he was admitting me. I was confused, I didn't quite understand him because of his accent.
Me: "Excuse me? You're whating me?
Dr: "Admitting you."
Me: " Admitting what to me?"
Dr: "Here. You must stay. 1 week at least."
I finally understood and it made me hysterical. I started laughing first, I put my head in my hands and sat there and laughed and laughed. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. My sister's worst case scenario actually came true and my Dad was right, my social life was the reason why I was here. I finally realized that the poor Doctor was sitting there watching me lose it probably reconsidering to send me to a psych ward. I gathered myself together and he stent me on my way to check in. Before going to my room I had to go through a series of tests. I had to get an X-ray, blood test and urine test all located in different departments around the hospital. I wandered around like a lost puppy for a while trying to figure out where I needed to go. My brain was mush, any common sense I had was lost. Finally an older Korean woman (an aujumma) noticed my struggled and helped me out. She took my paper figured out where I needed to be and then walked me to each department by hand and waited while I was tested before sending me off the the 8th floor, my home for the next week.
My room had 8 beds including my own and my roommates were my seniors by 40 years minimum. I was told to wait for my doctor so he could go over my actual diagnosis. I sat on my bed waiting, feeling sorry for myself, I was thinking that it was going to be the longest and most boring week of my life. As I sat and moped one of my new roommates walked over and handed me a plate full of snacks and then begin inspecting my body. I had no idea what she was doing, at first I just assumed she were checking if I were real like most other Koreans do and then I realized that she was just trying to figure out what landed me, a spring chicken, in this coup with old hens.
The doctor came in and you would have thought that he was giving a public speech, everybody gathered around to see what the foreigner had. The Doctor explained that I had a staph infection and they found it in my blood.
Doctor: "You'll be here at least a week."
Me: "Why so long?"
Doctor: "Because this is very dangerous, you can die."
You would think that telling somebody that who just had a hysteria attack in your office BEFORE receiving a diagnosis would be a bad idea but I didn't freak out. At that same time he was telling me what was wrong, I had one aujumma massaging my back and another practically spoon feeding me Korean goodies. My usual fear was replaced by comfort from these strangers.
During my stay I had awesome roommates and hospital staff. My friends and co teachers were around to keep me sane. My Mom decided that me being in a Korean hospital was a good reason to add me on Facebook and along with my sister chatted with me everyday. I was able to catch up on some reading(again thanks to my sister and her kindle account), indulge on as much white rice as I wanted and blame all weight gain on the situation, as well as plan my next 3 vacations.
While my stay wasn't bad, my fear of hospitals is still not cured and I am more than happy to be back to my everyday life.
#CHEERS2NEVERGOINGBACK
But I still didn't think it was hospital worthy. I continued to teach, ignoring my families advice along with the pleas from my co-teachers to allow them to take me to the hospital. The was no way I was going. And then Friday came along. I woke up to an email from my mom. It was a link to a website about staph infections. First listing the symptoms, swelling, pain, redness and fever... I had them all. Then showing what could happen, blood infection, skin burns, bone infection and potentially death. Not exactly something one wants to read before breakfast.
It was then I decided that I should probably go to the hospital. I went to work first and I taught all of my classes and had lunch, I was trying to prolong making this trip but my co-teachers realized what I was doing, called me a cab and sent me on my way.
There are not many things I fear. But number one on the list are hospitals. I hate hospitals, they terrify me. They mere thought of them gives me the chills. At the ripe age of 24, before this visit, I had never gone to the hospital with out my older sister or Mom in tow, I am that reluctant to go and I am that afraid of them. After being dropped off at the hospital I sat outside for about 20 minutes, Google searching home cures for staph. No luck. So I went in. After checking in I had to wait, the doctor was at lunch. I can't ever control my emotions when I am in a hospital so while I was sitting there my palms started to sweat and I was unable to sit still. I started a conversation with my sister. The conversation was going fine until she said, "you're probably going to have to stay a few days."
First tears started running down my face. It was like a dam had broken in my eye sockets. I couldn't stop the tears from coming. Then I started to have a panic attack. I couldn't catch my breath, my thoughts were scattered and I was shaking. I put my head between my knees trying to get myself together, it was ridiculous, I hadn't even stepped into the Doctor's office or received a real diagnosis and I was already a mess. There I was, a tall black person with big curly hair sitting in the middle of a Korean hospital as if I already didn't stand out enough now I then started to cry and breathe as if I had just run for my life, needless to say EVERYBODY was staring at me. I couldn't even be embarrassed, I was too worried about just being there, who cared what people thought about me. It took a few minutes but I finally pulled myself together just in time to be called into see the doctor.
The doctor visit was short. I sat down he looked at my foot and in broken English told me he was going to give me antibiotics. I then told showed him my previous prescription. After he looked over it he told me he was admitting me. I was confused, I didn't quite understand him because of his accent.
Me: "Excuse me? You're whating me?
Dr: "Admitting you."
Me: " Admitting what to me?"
Dr: "Here. You must stay. 1 week at least."
I finally understood and it made me hysterical. I started laughing first, I put my head in my hands and sat there and laughed and laughed. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. My sister's worst case scenario actually came true and my Dad was right, my social life was the reason why I was here. I finally realized that the poor Doctor was sitting there watching me lose it probably reconsidering to send me to a psych ward. I gathered myself together and he stent me on my way to check in. Before going to my room I had to go through a series of tests. I had to get an X-ray, blood test and urine test all located in different departments around the hospital. I wandered around like a lost puppy for a while trying to figure out where I needed to go. My brain was mush, any common sense I had was lost. Finally an older Korean woman (an aujumma) noticed my struggled and helped me out. She took my paper figured out where I needed to be and then walked me to each department by hand and waited while I was tested before sending me off the the 8th floor, my home for the next week.
My room had 8 beds including my own and my roommates were my seniors by 40 years minimum. I was told to wait for my doctor so he could go over my actual diagnosis. I sat on my bed waiting, feeling sorry for myself, I was thinking that it was going to be the longest and most boring week of my life. As I sat and moped one of my new roommates walked over and handed me a plate full of snacks and then begin inspecting my body. I had no idea what she was doing, at first I just assumed she were checking if I were real like most other Koreans do and then I realized that she was just trying to figure out what landed me, a spring chicken, in this coup with old hens.
The doctor came in and you would have thought that he was giving a public speech, everybody gathered around to see what the foreigner had. The Doctor explained that I had a staph infection and they found it in my blood.
Doctor: "You'll be here at least a week."
Me: "Why so long?"
Doctor: "Because this is very dangerous, you can die."
You would think that telling somebody that who just had a hysteria attack in your office BEFORE receiving a diagnosis would be a bad idea but I didn't freak out. At that same time he was telling me what was wrong, I had one aujumma massaging my back and another practically spoon feeding me Korean goodies. My usual fear was replaced by comfort from these strangers.
During my stay I had awesome roommates and hospital staff. My friends and co teachers were around to keep me sane. My Mom decided that me being in a Korean hospital was a good reason to add me on Facebook and along with my sister chatted with me everyday. I was able to catch up on some reading(again thanks to my sister and her kindle account), indulge on as much white rice as I wanted and blame all weight gain on the situation, as well as plan my next 3 vacations.
While my stay wasn't bad, my fear of hospitals is still not cured and I am more than happy to be back to my everyday life.
#CHEERS2NEVERGOINGBACK
You made it! Despite the unfortunate circumstances regarding this experience, well, it will always serve to be a good story to tell and a reminder of life's fragility.
ReplyDeleteGood luck exercising in this heat!
I still say you should consider novelist, screenwriter, or columnist as a career! Hope you are feeling better.
ReplyDelete