I am at the ENT in a
hospital in Sri Lanka. I am trying so hard not to be the rude American but I am
in so much pain. Even so, I look around and I want to
photograph everything. The nurse’s shoes, all white with the pretty little
design on the toe, looking like they were made in the 50s. The antique
hospital beds against a backdrop of walls with peeling paint.
The orderly pulls my backpack to the ENT for me
I guess I am writing to
try to take my mind off of the pain from an earache. My ears are a chronic
issue so this is no surprise. I pretty much know what to expect, however, I am
in a foreign country.
The Ayurvedic doctor I
saw this morning could not help me. I was excited to go to him because I always
use herbal medicine and had heard before that Ayurveda might help with my ear
trouble. He alleviated some pain with herbal oil and massage and I thought I
was ok. Then I got on my bus to get to my next stop in Kandy for the night. And
on the way here the pain got even worse. I might even say excruciating. When I
thought I would burst into tears from the pain I jumped off the bus with my big
bags outside of the city and got a tuk-tuk to the hospital. I knew I’d get
there quicker that way than waiting on the bus to get through traffic.
Emergency entry was not
too bad, just the payment took so long with the orderly talking me from the
right billing station to the wrong one and back again with a stop at the
ATM.
I took out way too much
money because in my delirious state I heard them say 40,000 rupees, not 14,000.
Which is $200 versus $75. A bargain for emergency room care to someone from the US at either amount. This morning the Ayurvedic doc asked for 800 rupees. I
gave him 2,000, a little more than $10 US.
His office was in his
home. Dusty curtains that kept it dark with a dirt floor and wooden furniture.
His desk has a stack of antiquated traditional Sri Lanka style books. I only
assume they are ayurvedic. I wouldn't even have known they are books had I not
seen something similar. It was a book about the story of Buddha, hand made by
an artist. Thin rectangular slices of bamboo for pages with drawings of Buddha's
journey and Sigirian writing, stacked to open like a fan and twine that wrapped
around it when closed.
After a question and answer session through my
Sigirian translator, the host of the guest house I had been staying in who
referred me to him, he took me to another room simple room.
Inside was a large open
wooden chest with a rack that had several ounces of leaves drying on top. He
had me lie down on a massage table. He picked up a wooden bowl of oil that he
used a metal spoon to scoop some out of and then heated it with a lighter under
it. Then he poured some of the warm oil into my ear and vigorously massaged
around it and along my cheekbone, throat, and scalp. He blew into my ear to get
the oil to go deeper inside. My unbearable pain was relieved within a few
minutes. I thanked him profusely thinking the worst was over but somehow
knowing that what was in my ear still had to come out. Then he sent me off with
some of the ear oil in an old bottle that he rinsed with water first and blew
in it to help it to dry.
I guess the writing is
helping. Or the pills they gave me for pain are working. The language barrier
is so bad I did not ask what the pills are. Not my usual MO with western
medicine but I just barely had the where with all to make it here despite asking
many questions. I’m hoping the pills actually work.
So, I lay here on a
hospital bed with a clean but stained sheet and a pillow with only 15 feathers
left in it under my head. The nurse came in to spray lidocaine in my ear
but I suggested we wait to see if the pills work first. I have been to numerous
doctors with Issues with my ears but that method has never been suggested.
Although usually my ears are just clogged and rarely infected.
Over the past several
years I have taken special care not to put my head under the water when I swim
because my ears tend to get water inside. Since I have an extra flap of skin inside
my ears and it makes it hard to get anything out that goes in, including wax
build-up. Perhaps a mutation from a previous life as a mermaid that did not
evolve when I became human. I went swimming in a lake a few days ago at my
volunteer project and this time, for some reason I dunked my head under the
water once. I guess hoping that perhaps I miraculously have the freedom again
to do something so bold. Clearly, that is not the case.
The nurse just brought me
a cup of hot chicken broth and a large slice of papaya. Healthier food than I
would be offered In a US hospital.
Yes, the pain is definitely subsiding. And now
all I can think of is that I am going to miss one of the events I came here
for. The traditional Sri Lanka dancers that you can only see perform in Kandy
or for special holidays. Darn!
I have finished my snack
and now a plate of rice and curry arrives. The first brown rice I have seen in
this country. Another healthy delicious meal I would never expect to get in an
American hospital. Spicy enough to kill any infection to no doubt. I am
embarrassed to ask for a fork. But I have been traveling all day and I’m in a
hospital now, so my American sensibility suggests I should eat with a utensil
instead of my hands like they do here.
Soon the doctor will
come. I hope. And in the meantime, I am remembering to be grateful. That I can
afford to come to a doctor. That I am not so bad off as the many other people
in pain on stretchers in the emergency room. That the universe has blessed me
with yet another interesting story to tell, despite the hassle and pain that
comes with it.
And even though I am
missing the dancers tonight, I will not miss the Buddhist ceremony at sunrise
tomorrow morning. It will be at the Temple of the Tooth, one of the world's most
famous Buddhist temples with a tooth relic from the Buddha. Perhaps that is
where I will receive the healing I need... or perhaps the enlightenment that I,
like so many other spiritualists seek our whole lives. Anything can happen, any
time.
The nurse takes me to a
larger room in the ward with several other patients lying in hospital beds with
family members beside them. They look at me inquisitively. The nurses are all
amused by me, with my two big backpacks and photographing everything. One of
them sits me down at a small table and the doctor comes in and puts on an
antiquated headlamp that has an electrical cord and makes a loud hum when
turned on.
There is another old fashioned looking machine beside me that will
solve the problem. Although I have never seen a machine like this I know what
it does because the doctor told me they would suck out any wax causing the
blockage with it. I am excited because I know this is the best method and
I never get this treatment at my regular clinic, always just the ear
irrigation. The last time I had an infection like this I had to pay an ENT
specialist $400 to use a much fancier version of this machine. I have been
through this many times (but usually without an infection) so I know that once
the wax is cleared I will feel better.
Again I remember to be grateful. I just wish I
had one of my own, travel-sized.
