Talk about stories from China! It seems I never have a dull moment to report.
Yesterday, Monday, after a series of exciting classes filled with controversial debates, I forgot how to walk.
Stepping down the stairs out of the English building with crowds of students still debating whether world peace was, in fact, attainable or not, I somehow missed the last stair. Rather than just tripping, the impact of my laptop and copious amounts of books in my backpack shoved me forcefully to the pavement. I screamed. Students ran. And it was humiliating beyond imagination. I tried to stand but the pain in my left ankle was so intense that I could not help but immediately take a seat on the stoop. In China, sitting on the ground (at least without something underneath you to protect your clothing) is absolutely unacceptable (understandably, considering how dirty it is here). Everyone gasped and then rushed to make me stand. "No. No. I have to sit." "No! No! You must stand!" "No. No. I hurt. I must sit for a moment." "No! No! You must get up!" Because I have such "unusual karma" and whenever something terrible happens, something good always comes around, too, Bill, the member of my Foreign Affairs Committee in charge of my wellbeing, just happened to walk out of the building at the same time (he's never in the English building so this was truly fortunate). He instructed two male students to help me up and walk me back to my apartment. I was so embarrassed by the great number of worried students standing around, that after they had me standing, I ignored the throbbing pain and, after convincing them that I was fine, insisted that I could walk alone and they should please go to dinner. Bill, however (thankfully), said he would walk me back to my apartment to make sure I got home okay and to check the status of the sewer leak by our apartment (for the past 6 months a sewer has been gushing out profuse amounts of water and its dirty…extracts…blocking all of the foreign teachers' way to our apartment; we've had to trudge through dirty sewer water and slush every day, every time we step outdoors—our shoes are all ruined—and finally we insisted that our health was at stake and if they didn't get it fixed we were going to "take severe measures"…but that's another story).
I am generally a fast walker, and Bill is too, which is one thing I've always liked about him. Yesterday, however, on the way back to my home, I was attempting to uphold a normal conversation and keep up with him without letting on how much pain I was in and it was, truly, too fast for me, although I insisted my body to move forward. Finally, when we had made it halfway through campus and were just outside of the dormitory gates where I live, my body started shaking and I thought I was going to throw up. I immediately sat down on a stoop, answered a few "I'm okay, just dizzy" questions, and then the world went yellow. I could not see anything but a yellow fuzzy light, I could not hear anything, and I was, initially, aware that Bill and someone else was on either side of me, but then I just completely went inside myself and had no idea what was going on.
After what seemed a lifetime, I could see again, and felt arms around me. I looked to my left and there was Miah, who apparently came and dressed me in an additional sweatshirt and winter cap. I also discovered that Ben, one of my students, had run (literally) all over campus trying to find a driver or a nurse to come see me. Marilyn also saw the spectacle and came over, took my shoe and sock off to examine the swelling (I have a HUGE walnut growing off the top of my foot and another HUGE walnut sticking out of the left side of my ankle). We sat there together in the cold (the coldest day we've had in a month), me trying to make jokes through the misery, Miah running to and from our apartment to make sure I had enough supplies and entertainment for the hospital (bless her!), Bill making numerous phone calls, Ben constantly asking me how much it hurt, for an hour before a driver came.
The drive to the hospital was agonizing. Longdongbao isn't paved, so every bump made me feel like I was going to drop over in pain (my knee was also bruised pretty badly so sitting even hurt). Finally, a half hour later, we pulled into the hospital where Peace Corps prefer us to go (the best in Guizhou). I was helped in by Bill and Miah (who came along because she's wonderful), and we made it to the desk where we had to pay upfront. There were wheelchairs to our right, so Miah tried to get me one, only to discover that they were locked. We asked them to assist us and they told us no, that there was no staff available to push me and that Miah and Bill (or even myself) were not qualified (because it costs us to hire the wheelchair pusher, I discovered later), so instead I hopped on one foot across to the second hospital building for x-rays.
Stepping amongst cigarette buts and blood spills, we entered the x-ray registration room, where I was finally given a wheelchair. The man who pushed me to the x-ray table, however, made a few error judgments and rammed my outstretched foot into the walls a few times (good thing he was qualified; I can't imagine the type of damage Miah or Bill, who are not trained in the art of wheelchair pushing, would have done!).
I sat on the x-ray table, painfully setting my foot on the solid ground, and was told that my toes needed to be upright for the x-ray to work. I protested, explaining that my foot would not go upright, which caused frustration for the x-ray team. They took my x-rays, said it would be an hour to have the doctor look at them, and then came back a half hour later and said they were not good enough and I had to do them again. We then waited for another hour for these to be looked at, and this is when I went into the mode I always go into when I visit a doctor or hospital. I call it my "squirrelly-mode", where I cannot help but make jokes, laugh at everything, find everything amusing. I called Kim (who lives across the street from the hospital) and asked her to bring me a bottle of wine (she did come and entertain us, wonderful girl, although she did have common sense enough to omit alcohol from her visit), I pulled over the English-speaking intern and, after he said he would take good care of me, insisted that he do so by getting me "lots and lots of pills and lots and lots of wine. Red wine. And please, sir, very fast!" Or I would turn to the nurse and, in Chinese, ask "am I broken? Am I damaged goods? Can they trade me? Please sir, my school would like an exchange!" I think none of the staff knew how to handle this seemingly drunk foreign girl in their midst, and probably thought I was faking the pain (although the walnuts growing out of my feet may have deterred their thoughts from hypochondria). Bill kept joking "I think she's drunk!" And then I remembered my mom, every time we would go to the doctor, asking me the same thing "are you drunk? You'd better stop acting like this or they'll think you're faking it!" I don't know what causes this bout of silliness at the hospital; I think maybe it's a defense mechanism.
After returning home barefoot, without crutches or a cast or a wrap (or red wine), Miah helped me up through the sewer sludge filled outdoor stairs, and then Mark came down and carried me up to my apartment (on the fourth floor). Frank brought me up his extra cane, and Stephanie and Marilyn made sure to check on me and my wellbeing. All of my classes are canceled for the next few days, and I am bedridden, bored, in pain, and needing to pee but hate the thought of hobbling to the bathroom.
I have a wrap from Peace Corps coming this afternoon via Danny (as well as lunch; I have great friends!) and, I hope, severe dosages of Ibuprofen in the mail. It should all be here soon.
Always an adventure. :)
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