And just when it was all going so swimmingly...
Well, in all honesty, for a while it hadn't been going swimmingly. I knew that my stomach, the constant fatigue and piercing headache wasn't right. I kept active in Hampi - and glad I did, or I would have missed some great sights - but I think by that stage my body was saying GO TO A DOCTOR. NOW.
So I did. I left Hampi by local bus to a place called Hospet. There I killed a few hours finishing off The Girl Who Played With Fire, periodically telling beggars to go away, and taking pictures of Indian film posters:
Finally my sleeper train arrived to take me to Bangalore. It was the first sleeper train I'd got in India, and despite feeling like crap, it was all I'd hoped it would be.
I'd read a lot about trains in India before I came here, mainly on the excellent seat61.com website. Indian railways are a complex beast, from the different types of trains you can catch, to which class you can sit in and what tickets you can buy. I had what's known as a 'waitlisted' ticket, meaning you need X amount of people to cancel before you know you have a berth on the train. With a few hours to go, I found out I had a berth - with a coach and seat/bed number. Phew. Every single seat on every train in India is accounted for electronically (except cattle class, which is a free-for-all). It's an amazing system.
In my small compartment was the Indian version of Alan Sugar (rotund businessman speaking loudly into one of his many phones, getting more and more exasperated as the journey went on, presumably winning - but mainly losing - several business deals) and his lackey/servant boy. I exchanged pleasantries, made my bed, pulled the curtains across and slept.
Arrived in Bangalore at 6am, got a rickshaw to my hotel, dumped my bag, had a shower, got a rickshaw to the Mallya Hospital. Luckily it was a Saturday and the hospital was quiet. By this stage I had turned a shade of green/grey and did not look full of the joys of the world. The doctor eventually came, took one look at me, prodded my stomach a bit (ouch!!) and said I needed to come in for the night for tests.
So, back to hotel, checked out (300 rupees lighter, the unsympathetic gits!) and back to the hospital.
I got a pleasant room on the first floor, and was immediately speared with a needle in my right hand and put on a drip. The first three days were a bit of a daze, but I made sure I wrote down some observations. In no particular order:
-- fetching blue and white check gingham PJs
-- night nurses friendlier than day nurses
-- every piece of food or drink labelled with my room number
-- different staff members for room mopping, room sweeping, bell testing, water filler-upping, shower testing, bin emptying, etc
-- the 'dietary' hotline. The number you phone when you want anything to eat or drink, unsurprisingly. One flaw: no-one on the line could speak English. A daily game of me saying something down the phone ('omelette please') and them bringing me something else (corn bread, a fork, a bowl of curd...)
-- having a blood pressure check as I watched the Merseyside derby on TV. I tried to explain it might be a bit higher than normal
-- being woken up at 6am each morning, without fail, by the nurses for blood pressure and drug intake
-- discussing 'loose motions' about 20 times a day with various nurses. They could've written a book on my 'loose motions' by the end of my stay, they had that much information
-- an incredible amount of drugs being pumped into me each day, either via my hand or taken orally. Most of the time I had no idea what they were, and when I checked out I got an itemised bill of everything I'd taken - and am still none the wiser - but it's good to have a record I suppose!
-- having an ultrasound. Waiting downstairs among all the pregnant women, being led into a small room and then having the lubrication-on-stomach-and-swipey-machine-thing treatment. Quite a strange experience, for a man
Overall, I'm glad I chose the hospital I did. My guidebook recommended it, so that's one (major) thing they got right. I was diagnosed with Salmonellosis and Colitis and must have taken on the Salmonella bacteria via something I ate in Gokarna. Thinking back, there was a particularly unpleasant lunch of a chicken lafa (like a wrap) that I had one day shortly before getting ill. I think that was probably the culprit.
I was discharged yesterday with an overall bill of 250 pounds. Not bad - and hopefully will get some back on insurance. I checked into an amazing boutique hotel in Bangalore and am staying here for three nights to fully recover before moving on.
I can't ever remember spending one night in hospital, let alone four, so it wasn't something I could see coming. But glad I'm sorted now, and can hopefully get on with the rest of the trip in good health! Here are some more pics:
Well, in all honesty, for a while it hadn't been going swimmingly. I knew that my stomach, the constant fatigue and piercing headache wasn't right. I kept active in Hampi - and glad I did, or I would have missed some great sights - but I think by that stage my body was saying GO TO A DOCTOR. NOW.
So I did. I left Hampi by local bus to a place called Hospet. There I killed a few hours finishing off The Girl Who Played With Fire, periodically telling beggars to go away, and taking pictures of Indian film posters:
Finally my sleeper train arrived to take me to Bangalore. It was the first sleeper train I'd got in India, and despite feeling like crap, it was all I'd hoped it would be.
I'd read a lot about trains in India before I came here, mainly on the excellent seat61.com website. Indian railways are a complex beast, from the different types of trains you can catch, to which class you can sit in and what tickets you can buy. I had what's known as a 'waitlisted' ticket, meaning you need X amount of people to cancel before you know you have a berth on the train. With a few hours to go, I found out I had a berth - with a coach and seat/bed number. Phew. Every single seat on every train in India is accounted for electronically (except cattle class, which is a free-for-all). It's an amazing system.
In my small compartment was the Indian version of Alan Sugar (rotund businessman speaking loudly into one of his many phones, getting more and more exasperated as the journey went on, presumably winning - but mainly losing - several business deals) and his lackey/servant boy. I exchanged pleasantries, made my bed, pulled the curtains across and slept.
Arrived in Bangalore at 6am, got a rickshaw to my hotel, dumped my bag, had a shower, got a rickshaw to the Mallya Hospital. Luckily it was a Saturday and the hospital was quiet. By this stage I had turned a shade of green/grey and did not look full of the joys of the world. The doctor eventually came, took one look at me, prodded my stomach a bit (ouch!!) and said I needed to come in for the night for tests.
So, back to hotel, checked out (300 rupees lighter, the unsympathetic gits!) and back to the hospital.
I got a pleasant room on the first floor, and was immediately speared with a needle in my right hand and put on a drip. The first three days were a bit of a daze, but I made sure I wrote down some observations. In no particular order:
-- fetching blue and white check gingham PJs
-- night nurses friendlier than day nurses
-- every piece of food or drink labelled with my room number
-- different staff members for room mopping, room sweeping, bell testing, water filler-upping, shower testing, bin emptying, etc
-- the 'dietary' hotline. The number you phone when you want anything to eat or drink, unsurprisingly. One flaw: no-one on the line could speak English. A daily game of me saying something down the phone ('omelette please') and them bringing me something else (corn bread, a fork, a bowl of curd...)
-- having a blood pressure check as I watched the Merseyside derby on TV. I tried to explain it might be a bit higher than normal
-- being woken up at 6am each morning, without fail, by the nurses for blood pressure and drug intake
-- discussing 'loose motions' about 20 times a day with various nurses. They could've written a book on my 'loose motions' by the end of my stay, they had that much information
-- an incredible amount of drugs being pumped into me each day, either via my hand or taken orally. Most of the time I had no idea what they were, and when I checked out I got an itemised bill of everything I'd taken - and am still none the wiser - but it's good to have a record I suppose!
-- having an ultrasound. Waiting downstairs among all the pregnant women, being led into a small room and then having the lubrication-on-stomach-and-swipey-machine-thing treatment. Quite a strange experience, for a man
Overall, I'm glad I chose the hospital I did. My guidebook recommended it, so that's one (major) thing they got right. I was diagnosed with Salmonellosis and Colitis and must have taken on the Salmonella bacteria via something I ate in Gokarna. Thinking back, there was a particularly unpleasant lunch of a chicken lafa (like a wrap) that I had one day shortly before getting ill. I think that was probably the culprit.
I was discharged yesterday with an overall bill of 250 pounds. Not bad - and hopefully will get some back on insurance. I checked into an amazing boutique hotel in Bangalore and am staying here for three nights to fully recover before moving on.
I can't ever remember spending one night in hospital, let alone four, so it wasn't something I could see coming. But glad I'm sorted now, and can hopefully get on with the rest of the trip in good health! Here are some more pics:
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| Hospet |
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| Train at Hospet |
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| Drip, drip, drip |
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| My friendly team of nurses |
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| Almost everything came in a Thermos |
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| A draw of drugs |
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| A protest to 'Save Oil!' outside my window |
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| Hospital food |
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| Laika Boutique Hotel. Spot on! |