Multi-Specialty? Are you sure?

I packed a lot of things when I moved to India; dishes, clothing, makeup, my fabulous Party Lite collection. One thing I surely forgot to pack, was my immune system. I've said it many times, but I have been sick more often since coming to India less than 2 years ago, then I think I have been sick in my 34 years on this planet. Part of me thinks it might be coincidence, but a big part of me blames the Indian diet, to which I subscribe and the complete lack of any nutritional content in 99% of what we eat.

With that, I'll take you through yesterday's events. While at office on Monday I started getting severe abdominal pain. It hurt to sit. It hurt to stand. As the night went on, it only seemed to be getting worse. By the time I got home, around 7 am, I was pretty miserable. I hit up my good friend over at MarocMama, described the symptoms and we diagnosed it as a bladder infection. She recommended I try cranberry juice for a day or so to see if it gave me any relief, so as soon as the grocery store opened, I went and bought three big boxes (yes boxes) of cranberry juice. As soon as I got home, I cracked one open, and start chugging, as well as reading the nutritional content on the side of one of the other boxes. On the side of my Real Fruit Power branded juice, the ingredients are listed as follows: Water, Sugar, Cranberry Juice Concentrate (2%), Acidity Regulator and Antioxidant. Okay, so 2% is probably not gonna do the trick. Time to visit the doctor.

Here, pretty much any doctor visit is handled like Urgent Care in the US. You walk into the local hospital and some or the other doctor will check you out. If they can't solve your problem, they'll tell you when someone will be there that can. The General Practitioner was scheduled to arrive around 10:30 and we were the fourth in line. The GP that was there was one I had seen before. I was happy to see her, as she's one of the more personable doctors I've met here. That was until she saw me and said "I feel you're getting fat. Last time I saw you, you were like ::she holds up her pinky finger:: But I feel you're getting fat." Now, you should know, this woman has never put me on a scale in my multiple visits to her. Getting weighed isn't a common practice each and every time you go to the doctor, and for the record, no, I haven't gained weight. Moving on....

I describe my symptoms, she agrees with the theory that it's a UTI, asks me to have a urine sample taken, and writes me a prescription for five different things (no joke - 5). She also recommends I have a beer, which just made me giggle. She said it's an easy form of dialysis. Go figure. She also adds, as she looks at my husband, that we shouldn't have "relations" until everything's cleared up. That just makes me giggle more.

We then learn that although we're at a multi-specialty hospital, we still need to go to an independent lab for the urine sample. As in, we can't have it done at the hospital. So I figure on our way out, we'll stop at the hospital pharmacy, and get the 'scripts, and then head over to the lab. Not so fast. Can't get the 'scripts at the hospital pharmacy. You have to go to a local pharmacy.

As we're leaving, we see outside the hospital window, that the dog catchers are out terrorizing the neighborhood. They're worse than all the stray dogs combined. As we're watching, one of the the dogs runs into the hospital and down a corridor, where an orderly promptly closes the hallway door to protect the dog, while complete hungama (that means chaos) erupts in the waiting room. It would seem the hospital is also a safe haven for the dogs. I'm down with that. After a few minutes, the dog catchers (whom I've never seen actually catch a dog) leave and the orderly lets the dog out, and we also head out.

We stop at the first pharmacy we see, on our busy main road. They have four of the five prescriptions so we take them, and split up, me going to the lab, and my husband going to another pharmacy to get the last of the 'scripts. Upon arriving at the lab and handing over the note from the doctor, I'm handed an itty bitty cup and told to provide a sample. I kind of stood there looking around, waiting for him to direct me to the washroom. When he didn't and I asked him, I was told the lab doesn't have a washroom. I have to go home, fill the cup, and deliver it back to the lab. Okay, so we're like 0 for 4 at this point. We can't have lab work done at the hospital, nor can we fill the prescriptions, the first pharmacy doesn't have everything the doctor ordered, and I can't pee in a cup in the lab.

So I take my cup, and start walking home. Let me tell you the LAST thing you want to be doing when you have a UTI. Yep, that would be walking. So I get home, do the deed, and head back on foot to the lab to deliver the sample. I'm told to come back on Friday for the results. Mind you this is Tuesday. Not sure if that's a normal time span for something like this, but it makes me wonder if the lab even has a lab or if they'll also be trotting around town with my deposit. Not to mention, I'll have completed the prescriptions by the time the lab results come back.

On the upside, just 24 hours after taking the first of the meds, I feel exponentially better. So that's good news, but what it took to get there is a bit to boggle the mind.