The (Impatient) English Patient

I am sparing no details on this one!

Poor Ian has been suffering with recurring bouts of tonsillitis for the last couple of years. Our doctor in the UK had recommended 'the op' last year but he didn't have the time. Uh Oh. After several rounds of anti-bionics(!) a doctor here also recommended 'the op' but there just wasn't time, there never was.

He got back last weekend from his 2 week trip and unbeknown to me paid another visit to the doc. He had seen a 'little window' of opportunity as only Ian does!

Ian: "I'll think I'll have my tonsils out before we go".
Me: Errr pardon?
Ian: "Have my tonsils out...before we go"
Me: "Right. When exactly?"
Ian: "Saturday"
Me: "The Saturday before we leave? 2 days before the packers arrive? That Saturday? Oh help me! Lots more dialogue followed on the pros, cons, whys and wherefores...the BAD timing, but you get the picture I'm sure!

On Friday evening he went to the hospital for his pre-assessment and at 10pm tells me that he will need to be there by 7am and that someone has to stay and be with him for the entire time, I couldn't understand this?? When I had mine out aged 14 I was in hospital all on my lonesome whilst my Dad was away on business and my Mum was looking after my sister 20 odd miles away. Granted I ran out of 5 pence pieces nervously phoning home every 10 minutes beforehand but in the end the pre-med shut me up and I succumbed.

We all awoke early this morning and Ian went off with Murasoli to the hospital while I got the kids up and ready and waited for Mary, who had been hurriedly drafted in, to arrive. By 8.40am I arrived with Kumar and was whisked up to what I can only describe as the 'Penthouse Suite' of this hospital. Ian is lying there serenly with Murasoli quite literally almost holding his hand and looking very worried and concerned. A nurse arrives and I have to sign consent forms and at 9am he's wheeled off to theatre.




I kicked off my shoes, curled up on the sofa, put BBC World on the massive widescreen, opened a Diet Coke and had a well deserved snooze. Until firstly Kumar arrives to tell me that the entire mobile phone network is down throughout the City so he MUST give me a different number just in case I need him and secondly a woman comes to ask if it is OK if someone comes to take some pictures of THE ROOM - got that? The Room. OK whatever, maybe today isn't the best day...Oh no, but it HAS to be done today.



Five minutes later a nurse arrives to tell me that the Doctor needs to see me down on the 2nd floor, I fly down the stairs imagining a problem, but am greeted at the door by said doctor, "Take your shoes off put a gown on and follow me" he says. Before I have even grasped the fact that we are all barefoot and the sleeping people around me are actually 'in the recovery room' he presents me with a small bowl containing Ian's tonsils!! Euewwwww! "Please sign here to say you've seen them". Now I do actually know what Ian's tonsils look like after the number of times he's asked me to look and check if they are swollen or have white spots on them. Had he been having his appendix or something else removed I wouldn't have had a clue...could belong to anybody! After making sure a very grey looking Ian was OK I exited as soon as I could without even looking left or right...I really didn't want to see anything more.



Back upstairs the photographer(ha ha)has arrived and has not just set up a camera but a huge very professional video camera and I'm thinking there's something not quite right. I leave to wait outside, but they insist that I just sit down as I was and they'll work around me. Back on my comfy sofa I pick up my out of date edition of Marie Claire and then I happen to glance up to see this huge bloody camera trained on me! It dawns on me that they think we are medical tourists, people who travel to India to get all sort of Ops done because the NHS lists are too long and private is way too expensive...unless you come to India, and we're actually a convenient marketing tool. Then the guy says, "Mrs Wilson would you like to talk to camera about your Apollo Hopsital experience?" Errr hmmm, in a word NO! They beat a hasty retreat, to just outside the door? A few words in the 'Directors' shell like along the lines of...if you think you're filming my husband when he gets back here, you can think again, they get the hint and eventually leave.

Poor Ian arrives back, looking the worse for wear and then croackily announces that "This must be even worse and as painful as childbirth". At which point I stopped mopping his brow, lost all sympathy and wondered to myself where in Chennai I could get hold of a bag of Walker's Salt and Vinegar crisps...just for him!

Oh just one more thing....did I mention that a couple of hours later he asked for his laptop because there were some emails he needed to see? Good job I had sent it back home. I mean...Arrrgggghhhh...Men!