My time in hospital wasn't all that great, but I guess it was better than what a lot of alternatives could've been. My first night there I developed an unbearable pain in my good arm from the drip, and for a day afterwards couldn't use the arm at all. Will then came by with some dirty chicken and rice, and everything seemed pretty ok again.
Night two I went down to the operating theatre. It was just like the shows - looking at the ceiling with peoples heads passing you by to the side. The team down there couldn't speak English, but they had a good sense of humour. I understood to a certain point, but then had to trust to hope. They look like they know what they're doing, right? If not, the Jesus-man on the wall should help. They administered a local anaesthetic, but as I drifted off I tried to tell them that I was going to sleep, and vaguely recall asking them for photos of the operation. Back up in my ward afterwards, Will greeted me again. I ate a saltena he'd brought in - probably THE most awesome thing about all of Bolivia - then had the sleep of a lifetime.
The following day I was visited by Emma, Alice and Gaby - also from the car crash. It was good to see them. The next few days were interspersed with lots of visits by Will as well as the girls. Conversations with other ward members were short but fun. Getting my ipod back was a saving grace, the beautiful sounds of Beach House taking me away to a beautiful place, other than my bed.
A visit by the Australian consulate representative resulted in an upgrade to a private room - things only happen there if you know people. It was a pleasure to have a TV and better food. Although I was sick of the news after one session of it. First of all, it was all exactly the same as it had been 2 months ago before I'd left Australia, and secondly, CNN is repetitive crap. Having my own room also meant I could finally speak to my family over the phone, the first time since the accident, but it was still a dodgy business using the wards portable.
I was taken down for a final operation to close my hand back up (I believe the first operation was just cleaning it out) a few days in. When asked whether I wanted local or general anaesthetic, I recalled the bizarre sensations I'd had when I went under local the last time. I could still sense my left arm as it went numb, and could feel myself making movements with it (or at least telling my brain to) - I had the idea that I might stop being able to make those movements and then feel at a terrible loss, like having an unscratchable itch. I chose to go under general. Coming to was as awful as the time before - quite a lot of pain, and an uncomfortable, frustrating feeling at not being allowed to move out of an observation room.
The rest of my time in the hospital got to be pretty boring. Visits, phone calls and saltenas highlighted my days. Searing pain from antibiotics entering my drip highlighted much of the nights - I still have thrombosed veins (whatever they are....) 6 weeks on. I got released after 5 nights there in total. I had to pay the substantial bill with my credit card, then have my receipt checked by a police officer before being allowed to leave the building!
My first night out 4 of us went to one of the priciest restaurants in town, a French-Canadian place in "gringo-ville". Still, mains were only AU$10. I had to get a taxi everywhere in La Paz, but then so did the others anyway - Will would complain of not being able to walk up hills thanks to the altitude. It was nice to be 'free', out of hospital and eating and doing what I chose, but it was also nice to get on a flight after 2 nights in La Paz and head home. How glad was I to have travel insurance - they organised a business class ticket home for me. If I wasn't on antibiotics I would've drank SO much of that excellent wine...
Night two I went down to the operating theatre. It was just like the shows - looking at the ceiling with peoples heads passing you by to the side. The team down there couldn't speak English, but they had a good sense of humour. I understood to a certain point, but then had to trust to hope. They look like they know what they're doing, right? If not, the Jesus-man on the wall should help. They administered a local anaesthetic, but as I drifted off I tried to tell them that I was going to sleep, and vaguely recall asking them for photos of the operation. Back up in my ward afterwards, Will greeted me again. I ate a saltena he'd brought in - probably THE most awesome thing about all of Bolivia - then had the sleep of a lifetime.
The following day I was visited by Emma, Alice and Gaby - also from the car crash. It was good to see them. The next few days were interspersed with lots of visits by Will as well as the girls. Conversations with other ward members were short but fun. Getting my ipod back was a saving grace, the beautiful sounds of Beach House taking me away to a beautiful place, other than my bed.
A visit by the Australian consulate representative resulted in an upgrade to a private room - things only happen there if you know people. It was a pleasure to have a TV and better food. Although I was sick of the news after one session of it. First of all, it was all exactly the same as it had been 2 months ago before I'd left Australia, and secondly, CNN is repetitive crap. Having my own room also meant I could finally speak to my family over the phone, the first time since the accident, but it was still a dodgy business using the wards portable.
I was taken down for a final operation to close my hand back up (I believe the first operation was just cleaning it out) a few days in. When asked whether I wanted local or general anaesthetic, I recalled the bizarre sensations I'd had when I went under local the last time. I could still sense my left arm as it went numb, and could feel myself making movements with it (or at least telling my brain to) - I had the idea that I might stop being able to make those movements and then feel at a terrible loss, like having an unscratchable itch. I chose to go under general. Coming to was as awful as the time before - quite a lot of pain, and an uncomfortable, frustrating feeling at not being allowed to move out of an observation room.
The rest of my time in the hospital got to be pretty boring. Visits, phone calls and saltenas highlighted my days. Searing pain from antibiotics entering my drip highlighted much of the nights - I still have thrombosed veins (whatever they are....) 6 weeks on. I got released after 5 nights there in total. I had to pay the substantial bill with my credit card, then have my receipt checked by a police officer before being allowed to leave the building!
My first night out 4 of us went to one of the priciest restaurants in town, a French-Canadian place in "gringo-ville". Still, mains were only AU$10. I had to get a taxi everywhere in La Paz, but then so did the others anyway - Will would complain of not being able to walk up hills thanks to the altitude. It was nice to be 'free', out of hospital and eating and doing what I chose, but it was also nice to get on a flight after 2 nights in La Paz and head home. How glad was I to have travel insurance - they organised a business class ticket home for me. If I wasn't on antibiotics I would've drank SO much of that excellent wine...
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