So, the title says it all. I'm mostly posting this to get it out of the way. I never knew Egypt could be boring, but when I'm taking it easy, it sort of is.
I barely left my room all weekend, because while I'm feeling much better, I didn't want to over do it and relapse. That means all I did was lay in bed, do homework, and watch True Blood.
Tonight I wrote and recorded my final presentation for Formal Arabic. Tomorrow I plan to go out with Habiba. That's really it. In detail.
But at least now I won't have to bore you with the beginning of my next post that would have said "nothing happened for two days."
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Day 54: Tra La La
Today doesn't really feel like today anymore, but I'm going to write about it anyway.
Classes today were somewhat better than yesterday. I was more focused, if in more pain. Laying on the wounds made them feel better, like it was holding things in place, so I thought that wearing normal pants might do the same thing. And I was wrong. And it hurt. But I lived.
It was my first day back in Egyptian, and everyone was very welcoming. I missed the trip to the monastery last weekend, thanks to the surgery, so Ustaaz Immad had bought me a souvenir fan at the gift shop. I love that man. He's just too thoughtful for words.
In Formal we just read and discussed the essay I stayed up writing all of last night. It was worth it though, because the guy who read mine spent the first bit of his presentation about it raving about how it sounded like it was written by an Arab. That was my goal, of course, but it's nice to know I might have achieved it.
After class, we had pizza for lunch. I love pizza day. It's a bit of a celebration around here, and not only because it's on Thursdays. Egyptian pizza isn't like American pizza, but it's the same general idea. Cheese on bread. They just add a lot more. Olives and onions and spices and the like come standard. It's delicious, even if there isn't really any sauce.
And then I went to bed. Because I was exhausted. And slept. But not as long as I wanted to. At eight o'clock or so, some girls decided to start being obnoxiously loud in the hallway. It woke me up, and kept me up, and was just late enough that I didn't even make it to dinner. I was peeved. And now I'm tired again, but not quite tired enough to sleep over my stomach. And I feel like I should be doing homework. Oh well.
I caught Habiba a little while ago and we might watch a movie in a bit. I have a couple good ones with decent sound saved to my computer. It's gonna be a slow night, but at least I have to entire weekend to rest up. And work on projects and study for finals, but I'm trying to not remember that right now.
Oh, and for those who were worried, I think my intestines are almost back to normal. I won't go into details, but it was touch and go there for a while and now everything's back up and running properly. So, there's some good news.
Classes today were somewhat better than yesterday. I was more focused, if in more pain. Laying on the wounds made them feel better, like it was holding things in place, so I thought that wearing normal pants might do the same thing. And I was wrong. And it hurt. But I lived.
It was my first day back in Egyptian, and everyone was very welcoming. I missed the trip to the monastery last weekend, thanks to the surgery, so Ustaaz Immad had bought me a souvenir fan at the gift shop. I love that man. He's just too thoughtful for words.
In Formal we just read and discussed the essay I stayed up writing all of last night. It was worth it though, because the guy who read mine spent the first bit of his presentation about it raving about how it sounded like it was written by an Arab. That was my goal, of course, but it's nice to know I might have achieved it.
After class, we had pizza for lunch. I love pizza day. It's a bit of a celebration around here, and not only because it's on Thursdays. Egyptian pizza isn't like American pizza, but it's the same general idea. Cheese on bread. They just add a lot more. Olives and onions and spices and the like come standard. It's delicious, even if there isn't really any sauce.
And then I went to bed. Because I was exhausted. And slept. But not as long as I wanted to. At eight o'clock or so, some girls decided to start being obnoxiously loud in the hallway. It woke me up, and kept me up, and was just late enough that I didn't even make it to dinner. I was peeved. And now I'm tired again, but not quite tired enough to sleep over my stomach. And I feel like I should be doing homework. Oh well.
I caught Habiba a little while ago and we might watch a movie in a bit. I have a couple good ones with decent sound saved to my computer. It's gonna be a slow night, but at least I have to entire weekend to rest up. And work on projects and study for finals, but I'm trying to not remember that right now.
Oh, and for those who were worried, I think my intestines are almost back to normal. I won't go into details, but it was touch and go there for a while and now everything's back up and running properly. So, there's some good news.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Day 53: Bah, Schoolwork
So, I made it to classes today. Yay for me. Not yay for my stomach.
I got up really late yesterday, took a nap until midnight, and then did my homework from midnight until six o'clock this morning. At that point, I showered and got ready for my day and so on and so forth.
I wasn't really having problems until I, trying to make this a mostly regular day, took the stairs down to breakfast. One, I was going down, two, it was only for flights, and yet I still got there feeling nauseous. But I ate anyway. And it stayed down, it just wasn't pleasant.
A half hour and eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen later I was making my slow and steady way to the University. I gave myself a little extra time, and I took it slow, but there's no elevator in the TAFL Center, and the dar is on the third floor. I don't know why stairs suck so much right now, but I was miserable by the time I got there.
Still, I muddled through.
Classes weren't to bad. I couldn't really focus, but I finally performed my skit for media class that's been due for a week, and we had a lecturer about what makes Egypt an Islamic Nation even though there's a freedom of religion clause in the constitution. What I caught was interesting, but I kept zoning out because of either the pain or the pain pills. Ugh.
I skipped lunch to get all my insurance papers together. By that point I wasn't the least bit hungry. Besides, after lunch was the weekly Flagship meeting at the dar and I really didn't fancy a trip back and forth from the dorms. I managed to scan in all of my forms and receipts and E-mail them to a representative of my insurance company. Hopefully he or she will get back to me soon about whether they need anything else from me so I can submit the official claim. The surgery ate up pretty much all of my alloted summer spending money.
Nothing interesting happened at the weekly meeting. There's going to be an end of summer going away party. There are some trips going on this weekend. Etc. etc. I would have liked to participate in some of the trips, but I really don't think I'm up to it. I'm already skipping a visit to Silsila this evening because if I leave the dorm again I'm going to die. Not really. I'm being over-dramatic. But you get the picture.
I took a cat nap after the meeting, went to dinner, came back to my room... and now it's mostly homework. Woohoo. Yet again, I can't seem to get myself motivated, but I have a major essay due tomorrow as well as a bunch of make up work I haven't completed. Bah. Hence the title.
I'm going to go get to that now. Hopefully I get some halfway decent sleep tonight because after today I need it. And that catnap was not enough. I even looked miserable enough that Robyn tried to convince me to go home early. But at that point I only had an hour of class left, so I didn't really see the point. In sha' Allah tomorrow will be better.
I got up really late yesterday, took a nap until midnight, and then did my homework from midnight until six o'clock this morning. At that point, I showered and got ready for my day and so on and so forth.
I wasn't really having problems until I, trying to make this a mostly regular day, took the stairs down to breakfast. One, I was going down, two, it was only for flights, and yet I still got there feeling nauseous. But I ate anyway. And it stayed down, it just wasn't pleasant.
A half hour and eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen later I was making my slow and steady way to the University. I gave myself a little extra time, and I took it slow, but there's no elevator in the TAFL Center, and the dar is on the third floor. I don't know why stairs suck so much right now, but I was miserable by the time I got there.
Still, I muddled through.
Classes weren't to bad. I couldn't really focus, but I finally performed my skit for media class that's been due for a week, and we had a lecturer about what makes Egypt an Islamic Nation even though there's a freedom of religion clause in the constitution. What I caught was interesting, but I kept zoning out because of either the pain or the pain pills. Ugh.
I skipped lunch to get all my insurance papers together. By that point I wasn't the least bit hungry. Besides, after lunch was the weekly Flagship meeting at the dar and I really didn't fancy a trip back and forth from the dorms. I managed to scan in all of my forms and receipts and E-mail them to a representative of my insurance company. Hopefully he or she will get back to me soon about whether they need anything else from me so I can submit the official claim. The surgery ate up pretty much all of my alloted summer spending money.
Nothing interesting happened at the weekly meeting. There's going to be an end of summer going away party. There are some trips going on this weekend. Etc. etc. I would have liked to participate in some of the trips, but I really don't think I'm up to it. I'm already skipping a visit to Silsila this evening because if I leave the dorm again I'm going to die. Not really. I'm being over-dramatic. But you get the picture.
I took a cat nap after the meeting, went to dinner, came back to my room... and now it's mostly homework. Woohoo. Yet again, I can't seem to get myself motivated, but I have a major essay due tomorrow as well as a bunch of make up work I haven't completed. Bah. Hence the title.
I'm going to go get to that now. Hopefully I get some halfway decent sleep tonight because after today I need it. And that catnap was not enough. I even looked miserable enough that Robyn tried to convince me to go home early. But at that point I only had an hour of class left, so I didn't really see the point. In sha' Allah tomorrow will be better.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Days 49, 50, 51 & 52: Surgery
So... for being gone four days I don't really have that much to write.
I'm fine, first of all. I know some of you were waiting pretty anxiously for that update.
Saturday morning I went into the hospital with Robyn, Habiba, and Eman. The Doctor wasn't there yet, but I had blood work that had to get done. So I did that. I've get a pretty dark bruise from being stuck in the arm twice in such a short span, but I'll live.
The doctor showed up sometime around 8:30, said we'd only have to wait another quarter of an hour, but as Habiba pointed out that could mean anything. Around 9:15 a nurse came to get us and take us to the nicest hospital room I've ever seen in my life. It was nicer than most of the hotel rooms I've stayed in an Egypt.
The sign on the door said "Presidential Suite," and it had a living room in addition to the usual bedroom and bathroom. Both main rooms were furnished with a television and plush couches and armchairs, as well as a refrigerator in the bedroom. It was a corner room, so there were wide windows with a spectacular view on two walls of the bedroom, and the drapes and stone walls were done in calming blues and grays instead of the sterile white I'm so used to seeing.
We took some pictures together in the room, but there wasn't much time before a nurse came to give me my surgery clothes. I got dressed and headed down to the operating room. The anesthesiologist was the first to greet me. I liked him just as much as I liked the specialist I met. He claimed he thought I was Egyptian when I first started speaking, but I'm skeptical. He might have just been being nice.
Either way, we chatted while he put in my IV for the anesthesia and then let me lay back and relax for a few minutes while the other doctors started setting up other things. When it was finally time for the anesthesia, he didn't ask me to count back from a hundred, but instead to recall what monuments I'd seen in Alexandria so far. I got as far as Abu Abbas Mosque before I could feel myself going out cold.
A few hours later I came to in the elevator, but I was only semi-conscious of them rolling me into my room and transferring me to my bed. I only barely managed to make a phone call to mom to say I was alright before passing out again. I don't know how long I slept. There was a lot of dosing in and out. I could hear Habiba watching movies on my laptop in the living room every now and then.
Sometime that evening I woke up a little more alert. There were a lot of doctors and nurses coming in and out, checking up. Eventually Robyn left to attend to some other business. Habiba and Eman only stayed a little longer, and then I was left alone.
It was hard to sleep. I was tired, but in a good deal of pain too. I have issues sleeping on my back, but my side where all the surgery had been done was out of the question. I got some sleep, eventually, but it didn't help that there was still a steady flow of nurses and house keeping coming in to sweep, or bring me jello and custard and rice pudding. I wasn't hungry, not at all, When I asked for it they brought me tea too though, which was nice. I hadn't drank anything in a day and my mouth felt like the Sahara.
The next day two or three doctors came to check on my and declared me okay for release. I managed to struggle out of bed and into my street clothes before Robyn helped me downstairs and into a taxi. The taxi was unpleasant. I could feel the new space in my stomach with every bump in the road, and there are a lot. When we got to the dorm, I had to climb a flight of stairs before we made it to the elevator, and that was a little trying, but make it I did.
When I got to my room, Robyn ordered me a light lunch of bread and cheese and fruit from the kitchen. They brought it up to me, I ate, all the girls in the dorm made sure I was okay, and then I slept. All day. Even though my bed isn't very comfortable. It was glorious.
Since then, I've mostly been napping, doing a little homework, and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Everyone keeps asking after me though, and stopping by my room to check up. I haven't made it to class yet. I wake up every morning and feel like the walk to campus is taunting me. Yesterday I finally started taking the elevator down to meals again instead of them bringing food up, but my wounds always hurt more afterward.
I took a shower yesterday, which meant redressing my wounds. Most of them aren't too bad. They went in through my belly button, which I can't see far enough into to judge. Then there's one I didn't even put plaster on a second time because it mostly just looks like a healing cut. One directly above my belly button is all puckered and ugly looking, but it seems to be healing fine. The only one that really bothers me is on my right side.
They had a bile bag hanging out of it for my time in the hospital, and it's the only wound that continues to bleed and ooze a bit. When I redressed it it's just a gaping hole. Not like they slice me open, but like they drilled into me. I'm not exactly sure how that's supposed to heal. I imagine it will take a while. But it's definitely the cause of most of my superficial pain. Internal pain is another story, but... I'm managing. It's not that bad.
I'm really hoping to get back to classes tomorrow. I feel like I've missed far too many, but I have a long night of homework ahead of me if I want to accomplish that. Everyone's telling me to take it easy, and I'm trying, but I'm here to learn, not to sit in my bed and watch television.
Anyway, I'll be fine. I'm already feeling a lot better than I was a few days ago. It's just a matter of when better turns to good. I love you all!
~~~~~
The Same Story in Egyptian Arabic:
طبعا ما كنتش موجودة في الرحلة إلى الدير في نهاية الأسبوع إللي قاتت لكن كان عندي سبب كوايس، يعني كنت في المستشفى عشان عملية المرارة ومع أن العملية كانت كوايسة بدون مشكلة لسه بأحس بإني ما عنديش بطن بس إن شاء الله هيسيبني الوجع بسرعة.
وصلت إلى مستشفى السلامة الساعة تمانية بالصبح في يوم السبت وبدأت فورا تحليل الدم. ما جاء الدكتور لسه فبعدين كان لازم أستنى له لكني ما كنتش بالملل عسان كان عندي أصحاب معي. بالإضافة إلى روبن كانوا بنتين من المدينة الجامعية عايزين يروحوا معي، اسمهم إمان وحبيبة. إمان هي في كلية الطب وجاءت معي إلى مواعيدي الماضية وحبيبة هي مشاركتي اللغوية والإتنين صاحبتين كوايسين جدا. كانت بنت تاني من دوري في المدينة، اسمها زينب، عايزة تجيء معنا كمان لكنها رجعت إلى بيت العائلة في العطلة وما كانتش موجودة لما سبنا المدينة.
أخيرا جائت ممرضة لتجيبنا إلى أوضتي وبجد كانت أحسن أوضة مستشفى شوفتها في حياتي يعني اسمها كانت الجناح الرئيسي وكان موجود فيها أوضة المعيشة مع مقاعد مريحة قوي وفي أوضة النوم كان عندي دولاب وتلاجة وشبابيك واسعة فيها منظر جميل قوي وكان عندي منيو لأطلب أي أكل كنت عايزته. حسيت بأني أميرة لفترة لكني تذكرت بعدين عن العملية.
يدأت العملية تقريبا الساعة عشرة ونص وكان عندي دكاترة وممرضين كتيرين يركزوا على حاجات مختلفة. نمت طوال كل العملية وقمت بعدين وكنت بردانة قوي وبالوجع الشديد لكن كنت عارفة إنو كدا كان عادي فاتصلت يأمي وحاولت أنام. نمت شوية بس مش كوايس وما كانش مفيد إني كنت لازم أقوم كل ساعة عشان الحمام. أخيرا بعد سابوا روبن والبنتين بالليل نمت شوية أكثر بس لسه كانوا ممرضين بيجيئوا وبيروحوا مع أدوية وأكل وكدا فقمت كتير وفي الضبح لسة كنت تعبانة قوي.
عاسن أكلت بدون الترجيع بالليل قال الدكتور إني ممكن أرجع إلى المدينة بس لازم أستريح فجاءت روبن وركبنا تاكسي إلى المدينة الجامعية فين طلعت إلى أوضتي واتغديت شوية عيش وفكهة ونمت كل اليوم. دلوقتي لسه صعب إني أحرك كتير بس إن شاء الله هأرجع إلى الصفوف بعد بكرة.
I'm fine, first of all. I know some of you were waiting pretty anxiously for that update.
Saturday morning I went into the hospital with Robyn, Habiba, and Eman. The Doctor wasn't there yet, but I had blood work that had to get done. So I did that. I've get a pretty dark bruise from being stuck in the arm twice in such a short span, but I'll live.
The doctor showed up sometime around 8:30, said we'd only have to wait another quarter of an hour, but as Habiba pointed out that could mean anything. Around 9:15 a nurse came to get us and take us to the nicest hospital room I've ever seen in my life. It was nicer than most of the hotel rooms I've stayed in an Egypt.
The sign on the door said "Presidential Suite," and it had a living room in addition to the usual bedroom and bathroom. Both main rooms were furnished with a television and plush couches and armchairs, as well as a refrigerator in the bedroom. It was a corner room, so there were wide windows with a spectacular view on two walls of the bedroom, and the drapes and stone walls were done in calming blues and grays instead of the sterile white I'm so used to seeing.
We took some pictures together in the room, but there wasn't much time before a nurse came to give me my surgery clothes. I got dressed and headed down to the operating room. The anesthesiologist was the first to greet me. I liked him just as much as I liked the specialist I met. He claimed he thought I was Egyptian when I first started speaking, but I'm skeptical. He might have just been being nice.
Either way, we chatted while he put in my IV for the anesthesia and then let me lay back and relax for a few minutes while the other doctors started setting up other things. When it was finally time for the anesthesia, he didn't ask me to count back from a hundred, but instead to recall what monuments I'd seen in Alexandria so far. I got as far as Abu Abbas Mosque before I could feel myself going out cold.
A few hours later I came to in the elevator, but I was only semi-conscious of them rolling me into my room and transferring me to my bed. I only barely managed to make a phone call to mom to say I was alright before passing out again. I don't know how long I slept. There was a lot of dosing in and out. I could hear Habiba watching movies on my laptop in the living room every now and then.
Sometime that evening I woke up a little more alert. There were a lot of doctors and nurses coming in and out, checking up. Eventually Robyn left to attend to some other business. Habiba and Eman only stayed a little longer, and then I was left alone.
It was hard to sleep. I was tired, but in a good deal of pain too. I have issues sleeping on my back, but my side where all the surgery had been done was out of the question. I got some sleep, eventually, but it didn't help that there was still a steady flow of nurses and house keeping coming in to sweep, or bring me jello and custard and rice pudding. I wasn't hungry, not at all, When I asked for it they brought me tea too though, which was nice. I hadn't drank anything in a day and my mouth felt like the Sahara.
The next day two or three doctors came to check on my and declared me okay for release. I managed to struggle out of bed and into my street clothes before Robyn helped me downstairs and into a taxi. The taxi was unpleasant. I could feel the new space in my stomach with every bump in the road, and there are a lot. When we got to the dorm, I had to climb a flight of stairs before we made it to the elevator, and that was a little trying, but make it I did.
When I got to my room, Robyn ordered me a light lunch of bread and cheese and fruit from the kitchen. They brought it up to me, I ate, all the girls in the dorm made sure I was okay, and then I slept. All day. Even though my bed isn't very comfortable. It was glorious.
Since then, I've mostly been napping, doing a little homework, and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Everyone keeps asking after me though, and stopping by my room to check up. I haven't made it to class yet. I wake up every morning and feel like the walk to campus is taunting me. Yesterday I finally started taking the elevator down to meals again instead of them bringing food up, but my wounds always hurt more afterward.
I took a shower yesterday, which meant redressing my wounds. Most of them aren't too bad. They went in through my belly button, which I can't see far enough into to judge. Then there's one I didn't even put plaster on a second time because it mostly just looks like a healing cut. One directly above my belly button is all puckered and ugly looking, but it seems to be healing fine. The only one that really bothers me is on my right side.
They had a bile bag hanging out of it for my time in the hospital, and it's the only wound that continues to bleed and ooze a bit. When I redressed it it's just a gaping hole. Not like they slice me open, but like they drilled into me. I'm not exactly sure how that's supposed to heal. I imagine it will take a while. But it's definitely the cause of most of my superficial pain. Internal pain is another story, but... I'm managing. It's not that bad.
I'm really hoping to get back to classes tomorrow. I feel like I've missed far too many, but I have a long night of homework ahead of me if I want to accomplish that. Everyone's telling me to take it easy, and I'm trying, but I'm here to learn, not to sit in my bed and watch television.
Anyway, I'll be fine. I'm already feeling a lot better than I was a few days ago. It's just a matter of when better turns to good. I love you all!
~~~~~
The Same Story in Egyptian Arabic:
طبعا ما كنتش موجودة في الرحلة إلى الدير في نهاية الأسبوع إللي قاتت لكن كان عندي سبب كوايس، يعني كنت في المستشفى عشان عملية المرارة ومع أن العملية كانت كوايسة بدون مشكلة لسه بأحس بإني ما عنديش بطن بس إن شاء الله هيسيبني الوجع بسرعة.
وصلت إلى مستشفى السلامة الساعة تمانية بالصبح في يوم السبت وبدأت فورا تحليل الدم. ما جاء الدكتور لسه فبعدين كان لازم أستنى له لكني ما كنتش بالملل عسان كان عندي أصحاب معي. بالإضافة إلى روبن كانوا بنتين من المدينة الجامعية عايزين يروحوا معي، اسمهم إمان وحبيبة. إمان هي في كلية الطب وجاءت معي إلى مواعيدي الماضية وحبيبة هي مشاركتي اللغوية والإتنين صاحبتين كوايسين جدا. كانت بنت تاني من دوري في المدينة، اسمها زينب، عايزة تجيء معنا كمان لكنها رجعت إلى بيت العائلة في العطلة وما كانتش موجودة لما سبنا المدينة.
أخيرا جائت ممرضة لتجيبنا إلى أوضتي وبجد كانت أحسن أوضة مستشفى شوفتها في حياتي يعني اسمها كانت الجناح الرئيسي وكان موجود فيها أوضة المعيشة مع مقاعد مريحة قوي وفي أوضة النوم كان عندي دولاب وتلاجة وشبابيك واسعة فيها منظر جميل قوي وكان عندي منيو لأطلب أي أكل كنت عايزته. حسيت بأني أميرة لفترة لكني تذكرت بعدين عن العملية.
يدأت العملية تقريبا الساعة عشرة ونص وكان عندي دكاترة وممرضين كتيرين يركزوا على حاجات مختلفة. نمت طوال كل العملية وقمت بعدين وكنت بردانة قوي وبالوجع الشديد لكن كنت عارفة إنو كدا كان عادي فاتصلت يأمي وحاولت أنام. نمت شوية بس مش كوايس وما كانش مفيد إني كنت لازم أقوم كل ساعة عشان الحمام. أخيرا بعد سابوا روبن والبنتين بالليل نمت شوية أكثر بس لسه كانوا ممرضين بيجيئوا وبيروحوا مع أدوية وأكل وكدا فقمت كتير وفي الضبح لسة كنت تعبانة قوي.
عاسن أكلت بدون الترجيع بالليل قال الدكتور إني ممكن أرجع إلى المدينة بس لازم أستريح فجاءت روبن وركبنا تاكسي إلى المدينة الجامعية فين طلعت إلى أوضتي واتغديت شوية عيش وفكهة ونمت كل اليوم. دلوقتي لسه صعب إني أحرك كتير بس إن شاء الله هأرجع إلى الصفوف بعد بكرة.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Day 48: Baited Breath
Okay, so the title's a lot more dramatic than the day really was. Mostly I slept, and did a little homework, and watched the second half of A Very Potter Sequel because let's face it, I have very little will power when it comes to restraining myself.
I woke up late, but I was still tired. Just as I was about to take a nap though, Habiba knocked on my door asking if I wanted to watch a movie. I'd had to cancel on her the other day because I was dying. Well... not so much cancel as curl up in a ball of misery and have her take that as a rain check. Either way, I said sure.
She brought down some files to choose from and the two of us climbed on my bed along with Kamelya and Doua' from across the hall and watched "Omar and Selma" on my computer. It was a boot legged version recorded on a video camera in a cinema, so the sound was terrible and Kamelya and I couldn't understand a word. Even Doua', who's Egyptian, didn't get half of it.
Luckily, Habiba had seen it before, and while she'd explain between scenes, that's not really the best way to watch a movie. Doua' was the first to go to sleep, and Kamelya followed not long after. About half an hour from the end of the movie Habiba could tell I was exhausted, so she volunteered to finish it another time. By finish it another time, I actually think she means just watch another one with better sound, but I don't mind. It wasn't that great of a movie.
The story was about a husband who still flirts with other women, and his wife who's angry about it. It's kind of slapstick. What few details I have aren't really worth writing out. Their two daughters were cute though.
Once we'd decided I was going to bed, Habiba told me that she wanted to go to the hospital with me. Apparently Zeinab is visiting family or something. But she wasn't in the dorms last night, and Habiba doesn't want me to be alone. On that same note, she offered to stay the night in my room. I was perfectly fine on my own, but she was being so kind that I couldn't say no. So she slept in Hadir's bed while I napped for an hour before my shower.
Anyway, now it's technically the next morning, and I'm about to go brush my teeth before waking up Habiba and heading to the hospital. Wish me luck!
I woke up late, but I was still tired. Just as I was about to take a nap though, Habiba knocked on my door asking if I wanted to watch a movie. I'd had to cancel on her the other day because I was dying. Well... not so much cancel as curl up in a ball of misery and have her take that as a rain check. Either way, I said sure.
She brought down some files to choose from and the two of us climbed on my bed along with Kamelya and Doua' from across the hall and watched "Omar and Selma" on my computer. It was a boot legged version recorded on a video camera in a cinema, so the sound was terrible and Kamelya and I couldn't understand a word. Even Doua', who's Egyptian, didn't get half of it.
Luckily, Habiba had seen it before, and while she'd explain between scenes, that's not really the best way to watch a movie. Doua' was the first to go to sleep, and Kamelya followed not long after. About half an hour from the end of the movie Habiba could tell I was exhausted, so she volunteered to finish it another time. By finish it another time, I actually think she means just watch another one with better sound, but I don't mind. It wasn't that great of a movie.
The story was about a husband who still flirts with other women, and his wife who's angry about it. It's kind of slapstick. What few details I have aren't really worth writing out. Their two daughters were cute though.
Once we'd decided I was going to bed, Habiba told me that she wanted to go to the hospital with me. Apparently Zeinab is visiting family or something. But she wasn't in the dorms last night, and Habiba doesn't want me to be alone. On that same note, she offered to stay the night in my room. I was perfectly fine on my own, but she was being so kind that I couldn't say no. So she slept in Hadir's bed while I napped for an hour before my shower.
Anyway, now it's technically the next morning, and I'm about to go brush my teeth before waking up Habiba and heading to the hospital. Wish me luck!
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Day 47: Romansy on the Waves
So, today was a pretty fantastic day. In fact, it almost made up for my gallstone attack.
The day started out like any other, going to class and in the like. It was nice to be back, and all the professors were very kind and understanding. Ustaaz Nour returned my exam grade from last week, which was significantly higher than the previous exam grad, al-hamdu lillah. Ustaaza Nahla gave me an extension on the skit I missed because I was in the hospital. And Ustaaz Immad offered to personally take me to the monastery I won't be able to visit this weekend on account of my surgery.
After little classes I was a little apprehensive about returning to the dorms because I wasn't sure if Hadir was going to be there or not. I realized last night after posting that I left out two bits of very important news, as caught up in my health as I was, but I was too tired to go back and edit.
The first piece of news, before I get back to my story, is that Chelsea is leaving the UT Flagship. I know that doesn't mean anything to a lot of you, but for those of you who've heard me talk about Chelsea you know how much I love her. She's been the Assistant Director of the University of Texas Flagship (my Arabic program) for my entire time at UT, and we're all sad to see her go. Alas, Ustaaz Mahmoud E-mailed us the day I got so sick letting us know that she got a better job at the University of Maryland Flagship and that her last day will be August 16th. I don't know what that means for our Flagship, but at least I'll still see her on August 15th on move-in day at the Arabic House.
The second piece of news brings my back to my story. When Robyn brought me back to the dorms from the hospital Tuesday night, I had to sign in at the front office before I could go up to my room. If you don't sign in when you come in for the night they'll knock on your door at an ungodly hour, and I just wanted to sleep. The women working in the dorms were worried for me though. Word had gotten around that I was sick and they all had to ask after my health.
The questioning took a while, especially considering I was still groggy from my meds, and eventually Robyn came into the office to check on me. She told of the women for keeping me from my bed, which was a little harsh, but appreciated. Before we could head up though, they asked me where Hadir was, as they usually do. And as I usually reply, I told them I didn't know.
'Is she still traveling?' they asked. And that got a weird look from Robyn, who proceeded to ask me how long Hadir hadn't been in the dorms. So I told her the truth.
Apparently, the girls here aren't allowed to leave for an extended period of time. Sure, a weekend here or there isn't a problem, but Flagship pays their room and board to give us more experience speaking Arabic. Therefore, them taking an extended leave of absence is basically them not doing their job. I've been getting plenty of experience with the other girls in the dorm, but Robyn was still livid.
Yesterday, I got a phone call from Hadir, telling me she'd be by the room today. I didn't understand why she was calling to give me a heads up at first, but apparently Robyn called and fired her. I feel terrible for getting her fired, but part of me wonders if it's for the best. She did say when she stopped by that one day for dinner that she'd wanted to leave the program but came back for my sake, even if she still hasn't spent the night in the room once in the last three weeks.
So that brings me back to where I was, not sure if I wanted to Hadir to be in the room packing or not. I want to say goodbye, of course, but I feel like sitting in the room doing my homework or something while she packs would be awkward. Either way, she wasn't there, and even if she had been, it wouldn't have mattered because I didn't stay in the dorms long anyway.
The same night I got the E-mail about Chelsea, I got an E-mail from Anita Housen, a UT graduate student and the future Events Coordinator of the Arabic House. She's been living in Cairo for the past year, was coming up yesterday to visit our program in Alexandria, and wanted to meet some of her future roommates. I told her I'd still be recovering yesterday, and I was, but that if I felt better today I'd give her a call.
I was tired after lunch, so I planned to call her after a nap, but she beat me to it. She was in the dar and wanted to know if I was busy. Tired isn't exactly busy, and I was excited to meet her, so I trekked back over there to shake hands and make small talk. At the same time, I met Anita's friend Paulette who doesn't speak Arabic, but is visiting Anita for her last month in Egypt. They're going to Siwa tomorrow or the next day.
Both girls are a lot of fun. We didn't get into any in depth conversations in the dar though, we were mostly making plans for later that night. There was a free concert scheduled for eight o'clock at the citadel starring a famous performer who specializes in Eastern jazz. It sounded great, and I said I'd consider meeting them there later. Honestly, I was already tired, and I have mountains of homework to finish, hopefully before my surgery. Still, the thought of bonding time was nice, so I didn't rule it out.
At some point, conversation died down, we were all doing different things, and I ended up falling asleep on the couch in the dar. It's a million times more comfortable than my bed in the dorms and I couldn't resist. Mama Karima woke me up at seven-thirty about half an hour before the dar was going to close, got me some water to wash my face, and sent me off to dinner, which ends at the dorms at eight. I made it there with about five minutes to spare, but five minutes was all I needed for the light dinner of tomatoes, cucumbers, honeydew, and bread.
Charlie, another one of the Arabic House residents, was also still at dinner and asked about my plans for the night. She wanted to go to the concert, but didn't want to go alone. I said I'd go with her, and though I didn't mind in the least, she assured me we didn't have to stay for long. Then again, neither of us knew what the night had in store for us.
We met up with Anita, her friend, and two Egyptians outside the citadel about half past eight. They'd tried to get into the concert but decided the over crowding wasn't worth it. Still, there's a lot to do around the citadel, so we decided to hang out for a while.
Paulette is an artist, and it just so happened that there were boards set up for a public anti-smoking mural where people can paint whatever they want to discourage smoking. We stood around eating cotton candy, watching her paint, until we started getting swarmed by a bunch of begging children. The Egyptians decided to leave, and that left four of us, without a plan.
I learned quickly, however, that if ever we don't have a plan, Anita will find one. She started asking around for a man named Muhammad Romansy, like romance-y, so you'll understand my initial confusion. When I asked who he was, her reply in Arabic was "the most beautiful man in Alexandria." It wasn't until I met him that I really understood what she meant.
Muhammad Romansy is a boat rower in the ocean around the citadel. Anita met him a few years back when she was in Alexandria, I think with Flagship, and has returned to see him every year since, so they're good friends. While he was very nice though, she didn't mean that just his personality was beautiful.
While Romansy was born and raised in Alexandria, is 100% Egyptian, grew up on the citadel, and has been rowing boats since childhood, you couldn't tell it just by looking at him. He's tall, and thin, and has the muscles and callouses of an Egyptian boatman, but he's also blonde, with green eyes and pale skin. All the most beautiful features according to Egyptian culture, mostly because they're so rare her. I'm not gonna lie, it was kind of weird at first hearing his accent-less Arabic for a while, but meeting his one was of my best experiences in Egypt so far.
Romansy is from a different class of people than we usually get to interact with. He dropped out of school to row tourists around full time, but he wants more than anything to get a work visa and work outside Egypt. At age twenty-three he's married, with a daughter, and they live in a three room apartment: salon, bedroom, combination kitchen / bathroom with a squat toilet.
When Anita finally found someone who knew him, she replaced the old phone number she had for him with the new and gave him a call. As it turns out, he was at the concert, but came out to see us. After a short reunion, he insisted on taking us out on the waves. Anita assured us he was the best rower she'd ever seen, had never flipped a boat, and vowed to quit rowing the first time he ever does. That was enough for me.
We had to wait a half hour or so to take the boat out because there were police around, and apparently it's illegal to take tourists out in a boat at night. Once the police had left though we filed onto a rickety old row boat and headed out towards the waves. We didn't get into the choppiest parts, sticking instead to the relatively calm seclusion of inlet next to the citadel, but there were still exciting parts: when a large wave came, or when we all had to shuffle around the tiny space without falling out because Paulette or Charlie wanted to try rowing. It was a beautiful experience, though someone did throw a rock at us at one point. It hit Charlie on the back, but she said it didn't hurt badly.
When we got back to shore, there was a tiny disagreement over money. Romansy's boat had already been dragged out of the water for the night, so he'd agreed before going out to pay another boater ten pounds to use his boat. After the ride, however, the other boater wanted to twenty. We gave Romansy twenty, even though he was able to renegotiate it to ten, and had him keep the second half. Then we bought ice cream and rice pudding for his family (who were still at the concert) and walked with him back to his home for tea.
As I mentioned, Romansy is from a different class than we're used to, among the poorest Egyptians. He took us through some back alleys and then up a flight of stairs so dark we had to use a lighter to see, and then into that three room apartment I mentioned.
We sat in the salon for a while, waiting for his wife and daughter to come home. I love the Egyptian tradition of salons, mostly because I love just sitting and chatting with Egyptians. They all seem to have such energy and hospitality. Romansy found us some music to listen to on the television in the corner and we looked through stacks of old photos with him: wedding photos, photos of his daughter, photos of him with tourists.
Eventually, his wife and daughter, Ibtasar and Aya, made it home. After getting changed out of street clothes they came and sat with us for a while too. Well, Ibtasar came and sat with us, because Aya's only one and a half and mostly wandered around the room from person to person, dancing and making faces.
At one point, Ibtasar gave us an Eastern dance lesson, seeing as she could do it and none of us could. I don't know that that changed by the end of the night, but we had fun anyway. Romansy's daughter was by far one of the more adorable children I've seen in Egypt, especially covered in rice pudding as she was later in the night. She still breast feeds and her mother decided this would be a perfect time for us to all try to teach her to eat like a big girl together. It was entertaining, if not successful.
On a side note, even if Ibtasar wasn't spoon feeding Aya, she was spoon feeding the rest of us while we drank tea. It was a little odd for us, but as per culture in Egypt, she was doing whatever she could to make us eat. And there're only so many times you can refuse before it gets rude.
While I don't doubt the goodness of Romansy or his wife, cultural differences did begin to creep up in different parts of conversations in the night. It was almost nice seeing them, because while I know they exist, the more educated classes who know about American culture tend to try to hide them. They know Americans tend to be disturbed by certain topics. I have to specific examples.
On the boat out on the ocean, Paulette made a comment about how rowing for just five minutes had strengthened her arm muscles ten fold. Anita, Charlie and I were taking turns translating, and when we told Romansy what Paulette had said he got this sort of offended look on his face.
Women shouldn't be strong, he said. God made men the strong ones so that they can put women in their place. If a woman were to become stronger than her husband, she might start hitting him, and then there would be an imbalance of power. None of us really knew what to say to that. It's not something you'd hear on a boar in America at any rate. But we just shifted the subject a bit and continued our conversation.
Later, when Ibtasar was telling us about how much she loves to dance, she told us a story that would have been equally inappropriate anywhere else, or even in some other classes. Romansy's brother got married a few months back and Ibtasar danced at the wedding. While she was with mostly women, there was one man in the room, and when her and Romansy got home he hit her hard across the face for dancing for another man when he was her husband. And yet she told the story smiling and laughing the whole time, like it was a good joke.
Despite the differences, they were lovely people, and I was lucky to have met them in my travels.
Around midnight Charlie and I realized we should probably be heading back to the dorms, so we took a taxi to Anita and Paulette's hotel. It wasn't too far from the dorms, but still far enough that we didn't want to walk, so we headed for the tram station. We never did make it to the tram though. Instead, we ran in to another group of Flagship students on a street corner. They'd been to Mermaid for the night and were trying to decide what to do next. We hung out with them for a while, though the decision making mostly turned in to us standing around talking on that street corner for who knows how long.
Sameh, one of the Egyptians from the boys' dorms, had somehow ended up with his professor tagging along, and though I didn't know it at the time, apparently said professor was very drunk. Which is very inappropriate in Egypt. He'd been searching for a prostitute, and making inappropriate remarks about women, and Sameh was trying to come up with a plan to ditch him before he really offended someone. Most of us are easy going, but we weren't about to argue with convincing the professor to go home.
The plan became that we would say we were tired, head back towards the girls' dorms, and then make new plans once the professor had gone. But once the professor left, we mostly degenerated into standing around talking again. It was getting late at this point, and because the professor didn't live far from the University, we weren't far from the dorms. We kind of decided without deciding that we wanted to head back.
The girls made it back at about two-thirty. The front doors to the dorms were locked, but there was a police officer out front who knew who to call for a key. We got inside, headed upstairs, and I started downloading A Very Potter Sequel and working on answering me E-mail. I know I don't have time to watch AVPS, and I'm considering saving it for after my surgery, but I doubt my excitement will let me wait that long.
Anyway, I don't know if I effectively conveyed how much fun I had tonight, but it was a lot. I love Egyptians. And since meeting Anita I'm even more excited about living in the Arabic House. It's going to be a good year, but I'm still going to miss Egypt.
The day started out like any other, going to class and in the like. It was nice to be back, and all the professors were very kind and understanding. Ustaaz Nour returned my exam grade from last week, which was significantly higher than the previous exam grad, al-hamdu lillah. Ustaaza Nahla gave me an extension on the skit I missed because I was in the hospital. And Ustaaz Immad offered to personally take me to the monastery I won't be able to visit this weekend on account of my surgery.
After little classes I was a little apprehensive about returning to the dorms because I wasn't sure if Hadir was going to be there or not. I realized last night after posting that I left out two bits of very important news, as caught up in my health as I was, but I was too tired to go back and edit.
The first piece of news, before I get back to my story, is that Chelsea is leaving the UT Flagship. I know that doesn't mean anything to a lot of you, but for those of you who've heard me talk about Chelsea you know how much I love her. She's been the Assistant Director of the University of Texas Flagship (my Arabic program) for my entire time at UT, and we're all sad to see her go. Alas, Ustaaz Mahmoud E-mailed us the day I got so sick letting us know that she got a better job at the University of Maryland Flagship and that her last day will be August 16th. I don't know what that means for our Flagship, but at least I'll still see her on August 15th on move-in day at the Arabic House.
The second piece of news brings my back to my story. When Robyn brought me back to the dorms from the hospital Tuesday night, I had to sign in at the front office before I could go up to my room. If you don't sign in when you come in for the night they'll knock on your door at an ungodly hour, and I just wanted to sleep. The women working in the dorms were worried for me though. Word had gotten around that I was sick and they all had to ask after my health.
The questioning took a while, especially considering I was still groggy from my meds, and eventually Robyn came into the office to check on me. She told of the women for keeping me from my bed, which was a little harsh, but appreciated. Before we could head up though, they asked me where Hadir was, as they usually do. And as I usually reply, I told them I didn't know.
'Is she still traveling?' they asked. And that got a weird look from Robyn, who proceeded to ask me how long Hadir hadn't been in the dorms. So I told her the truth.
Apparently, the girls here aren't allowed to leave for an extended period of time. Sure, a weekend here or there isn't a problem, but Flagship pays their room and board to give us more experience speaking Arabic. Therefore, them taking an extended leave of absence is basically them not doing their job. I've been getting plenty of experience with the other girls in the dorm, but Robyn was still livid.
Yesterday, I got a phone call from Hadir, telling me she'd be by the room today. I didn't understand why she was calling to give me a heads up at first, but apparently Robyn called and fired her. I feel terrible for getting her fired, but part of me wonders if it's for the best. She did say when she stopped by that one day for dinner that she'd wanted to leave the program but came back for my sake, even if she still hasn't spent the night in the room once in the last three weeks.
So that brings me back to where I was, not sure if I wanted to Hadir to be in the room packing or not. I want to say goodbye, of course, but I feel like sitting in the room doing my homework or something while she packs would be awkward. Either way, she wasn't there, and even if she had been, it wouldn't have mattered because I didn't stay in the dorms long anyway.
The same night I got the E-mail about Chelsea, I got an E-mail from Anita Housen, a UT graduate student and the future Events Coordinator of the Arabic House. She's been living in Cairo for the past year, was coming up yesterday to visit our program in Alexandria, and wanted to meet some of her future roommates. I told her I'd still be recovering yesterday, and I was, but that if I felt better today I'd give her a call.
I was tired after lunch, so I planned to call her after a nap, but she beat me to it. She was in the dar and wanted to know if I was busy. Tired isn't exactly busy, and I was excited to meet her, so I trekked back over there to shake hands and make small talk. At the same time, I met Anita's friend Paulette who doesn't speak Arabic, but is visiting Anita for her last month in Egypt. They're going to Siwa tomorrow or the next day.
Both girls are a lot of fun. We didn't get into any in depth conversations in the dar though, we were mostly making plans for later that night. There was a free concert scheduled for eight o'clock at the citadel starring a famous performer who specializes in Eastern jazz. It sounded great, and I said I'd consider meeting them there later. Honestly, I was already tired, and I have mountains of homework to finish, hopefully before my surgery. Still, the thought of bonding time was nice, so I didn't rule it out.
At some point, conversation died down, we were all doing different things, and I ended up falling asleep on the couch in the dar. It's a million times more comfortable than my bed in the dorms and I couldn't resist. Mama Karima woke me up at seven-thirty about half an hour before the dar was going to close, got me some water to wash my face, and sent me off to dinner, which ends at the dorms at eight. I made it there with about five minutes to spare, but five minutes was all I needed for the light dinner of tomatoes, cucumbers, honeydew, and bread.
Charlie, another one of the Arabic House residents, was also still at dinner and asked about my plans for the night. She wanted to go to the concert, but didn't want to go alone. I said I'd go with her, and though I didn't mind in the least, she assured me we didn't have to stay for long. Then again, neither of us knew what the night had in store for us.
We met up with Anita, her friend, and two Egyptians outside the citadel about half past eight. They'd tried to get into the concert but decided the over crowding wasn't worth it. Still, there's a lot to do around the citadel, so we decided to hang out for a while.
Paulette is an artist, and it just so happened that there were boards set up for a public anti-smoking mural where people can paint whatever they want to discourage smoking. We stood around eating cotton candy, watching her paint, until we started getting swarmed by a bunch of begging children. The Egyptians decided to leave, and that left four of us, without a plan.
I learned quickly, however, that if ever we don't have a plan, Anita will find one. She started asking around for a man named Muhammad Romansy, like romance-y, so you'll understand my initial confusion. When I asked who he was, her reply in Arabic was "the most beautiful man in Alexandria." It wasn't until I met him that I really understood what she meant.
Muhammad Romansy is a boat rower in the ocean around the citadel. Anita met him a few years back when she was in Alexandria, I think with Flagship, and has returned to see him every year since, so they're good friends. While he was very nice though, she didn't mean that just his personality was beautiful.
While Romansy was born and raised in Alexandria, is 100% Egyptian, grew up on the citadel, and has been rowing boats since childhood, you couldn't tell it just by looking at him. He's tall, and thin, and has the muscles and callouses of an Egyptian boatman, but he's also blonde, with green eyes and pale skin. All the most beautiful features according to Egyptian culture, mostly because they're so rare her. I'm not gonna lie, it was kind of weird at first hearing his accent-less Arabic for a while, but meeting his one was of my best experiences in Egypt so far.
Romansy is from a different class of people than we usually get to interact with. He dropped out of school to row tourists around full time, but he wants more than anything to get a work visa and work outside Egypt. At age twenty-three he's married, with a daughter, and they live in a three room apartment: salon, bedroom, combination kitchen / bathroom with a squat toilet.
When Anita finally found someone who knew him, she replaced the old phone number she had for him with the new and gave him a call. As it turns out, he was at the concert, but came out to see us. After a short reunion, he insisted on taking us out on the waves. Anita assured us he was the best rower she'd ever seen, had never flipped a boat, and vowed to quit rowing the first time he ever does. That was enough for me.
We had to wait a half hour or so to take the boat out because there were police around, and apparently it's illegal to take tourists out in a boat at night. Once the police had left though we filed onto a rickety old row boat and headed out towards the waves. We didn't get into the choppiest parts, sticking instead to the relatively calm seclusion of inlet next to the citadel, but there were still exciting parts: when a large wave came, or when we all had to shuffle around the tiny space without falling out because Paulette or Charlie wanted to try rowing. It was a beautiful experience, though someone did throw a rock at us at one point. It hit Charlie on the back, but she said it didn't hurt badly.
When we got back to shore, there was a tiny disagreement over money. Romansy's boat had already been dragged out of the water for the night, so he'd agreed before going out to pay another boater ten pounds to use his boat. After the ride, however, the other boater wanted to twenty. We gave Romansy twenty, even though he was able to renegotiate it to ten, and had him keep the second half. Then we bought ice cream and rice pudding for his family (who were still at the concert) and walked with him back to his home for tea.
As I mentioned, Romansy is from a different class than we're used to, among the poorest Egyptians. He took us through some back alleys and then up a flight of stairs so dark we had to use a lighter to see, and then into that three room apartment I mentioned.
We sat in the salon for a while, waiting for his wife and daughter to come home. I love the Egyptian tradition of salons, mostly because I love just sitting and chatting with Egyptians. They all seem to have such energy and hospitality. Romansy found us some music to listen to on the television in the corner and we looked through stacks of old photos with him: wedding photos, photos of his daughter, photos of him with tourists.
Eventually, his wife and daughter, Ibtasar and Aya, made it home. After getting changed out of street clothes they came and sat with us for a while too. Well, Ibtasar came and sat with us, because Aya's only one and a half and mostly wandered around the room from person to person, dancing and making faces.
At one point, Ibtasar gave us an Eastern dance lesson, seeing as she could do it and none of us could. I don't know that that changed by the end of the night, but we had fun anyway. Romansy's daughter was by far one of the more adorable children I've seen in Egypt, especially covered in rice pudding as she was later in the night. She still breast feeds and her mother decided this would be a perfect time for us to all try to teach her to eat like a big girl together. It was entertaining, if not successful.
On a side note, even if Ibtasar wasn't spoon feeding Aya, she was spoon feeding the rest of us while we drank tea. It was a little odd for us, but as per culture in Egypt, she was doing whatever she could to make us eat. And there're only so many times you can refuse before it gets rude.
While I don't doubt the goodness of Romansy or his wife, cultural differences did begin to creep up in different parts of conversations in the night. It was almost nice seeing them, because while I know they exist, the more educated classes who know about American culture tend to try to hide them. They know Americans tend to be disturbed by certain topics. I have to specific examples.
On the boat out on the ocean, Paulette made a comment about how rowing for just five minutes had strengthened her arm muscles ten fold. Anita, Charlie and I were taking turns translating, and when we told Romansy what Paulette had said he got this sort of offended look on his face.
Women shouldn't be strong, he said. God made men the strong ones so that they can put women in their place. If a woman were to become stronger than her husband, she might start hitting him, and then there would be an imbalance of power. None of us really knew what to say to that. It's not something you'd hear on a boar in America at any rate. But we just shifted the subject a bit and continued our conversation.
Later, when Ibtasar was telling us about how much she loves to dance, she told us a story that would have been equally inappropriate anywhere else, or even in some other classes. Romansy's brother got married a few months back and Ibtasar danced at the wedding. While she was with mostly women, there was one man in the room, and when her and Romansy got home he hit her hard across the face for dancing for another man when he was her husband. And yet she told the story smiling and laughing the whole time, like it was a good joke.
Despite the differences, they were lovely people, and I was lucky to have met them in my travels.
Around midnight Charlie and I realized we should probably be heading back to the dorms, so we took a taxi to Anita and Paulette's hotel. It wasn't too far from the dorms, but still far enough that we didn't want to walk, so we headed for the tram station. We never did make it to the tram though. Instead, we ran in to another group of Flagship students on a street corner. They'd been to Mermaid for the night and were trying to decide what to do next. We hung out with them for a while, though the decision making mostly turned in to us standing around talking on that street corner for who knows how long.
Sameh, one of the Egyptians from the boys' dorms, had somehow ended up with his professor tagging along, and though I didn't know it at the time, apparently said professor was very drunk. Which is very inappropriate in Egypt. He'd been searching for a prostitute, and making inappropriate remarks about women, and Sameh was trying to come up with a plan to ditch him before he really offended someone. Most of us are easy going, but we weren't about to argue with convincing the professor to go home.
The plan became that we would say we were tired, head back towards the girls' dorms, and then make new plans once the professor had gone. But once the professor left, we mostly degenerated into standing around talking again. It was getting late at this point, and because the professor didn't live far from the University, we weren't far from the dorms. We kind of decided without deciding that we wanted to head back.
The girls made it back at about two-thirty. The front doors to the dorms were locked, but there was a police officer out front who knew who to call for a key. We got inside, headed upstairs, and I started downloading A Very Potter Sequel and working on answering me E-mail. I know I don't have time to watch AVPS, and I'm considering saving it for after my surgery, but I doubt my excitement will let me wait that long.
Anyway, I don't know if I effectively conveyed how much fun I had tonight, but it was a lot. I love Egyptians. And since meeting Anita I'm even more excited about living in the Arabic House. It's going to be a good year, but I'm still going to miss Egypt.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Days 45 & 46: The Hospital of Safety
So... I don't think I could have gotten a decent post out yesterday if my life depended on it. I'm sure those of you who already know the story have already forgiven me, but for those of you who don't... just wait. I'm going to start at the beginning though, so it may take a while fore me to get going.
Yesterday morning I woke up, as usual, but couldn't for the life of my get out of bed, despite it being a later day. I skipped breakfast and pressed my snooze button until I only had half an hour to shower and get ready. I did it, but it was cutting it close.
In the dar, it turned out I had no need to rush. Ustaaz Immad had gotten us an appointment at the orphanage that I later found out he used to volunteer at. That little tidbit of information actually explains a lot about him. He's the kind of guy you'd expect to be volunteering with orphans in his spare time. He's just that kind hearted.
Anyway, we had to wait for everyone from class to gather, and a few people had business to take care of before we left, so we ended up sitting around idly for a bit. And in this idle sitting, I started to not feel so well. One of the girls in our class had gotten sick the day before, so I was a little worried I had what she had, but I was really excited about going to the orphanage, so I sucked it up. In hindsight, not my best choice.
The bus was chosen as our optimal choice of transportation, seeing as there were seven of us. The problem with buses is they're lurchy. I swore I was going to throw up at least twice, but somehow, mind over matter or something, I managed to keep it down. An Alexandria city bus is not somewhere you want to get sick.
But eventually we made it to the orphanage where we met the sweetest woman who was in charge. We sat in her office with her for a while, my stomach in knots, as she told us about the orphanage.
Egyptian orphanages are a little different than American ones, mostly because Egyptian families are so large and close knit. Egyptians tend to grow up with all of their aunts and uncles like second parents, so if a parent dies, there's almost always another family member to take them in. As such, the orphanage is full of children who, rather than not having parents, usually have parents who can't afford to take care of them.
The other reason children might be in an orphanage has to do with religion. By Egyptian law, children inherit the religion of their fathers. Normally, this isn't an issue, because Muslims tend to marry Muslims and Christians tend to marry Christians. However, in the case of a Christian and a Muslim having a baby, if that Christian and Muslim ever split, the child is bound to the father and not the mother. As you can imagine, if the father decides to move away for work or something, as is within his right, that doesn't make the mother very happy.
The solution is often that they put the child in an orphanage of the necessary religion so that the mother can still see her child. The orphanage we visited was Christian, and the director told us that they tend to integrate religion into all facets of life. So it's a big deal.
The orphanage itself was quite nice. They have a large yard to play in and a gym and communal computers. There are forty-seven boys living there at the moment, from first grade up through university. The younger ones were at the beach for the day with some volunteers, but we got to meet some of the older ones. They were all very kind and polite, even inviting the boys in our class to come back and play soccer sometime.
It was a nice visit, or would have been, if my body wasn't inclined to hate me.
All through the directors talk in her office I couldn't concentrate. I wanted to hear what she had to say, but all of my attention was focused on my stomach. About half way through the meeting, I thought I'd found a godsend. One of the other women working there bought in a tray of sodas for us, including sprite zero. And sprite always makes upset tummies feel better, right?
Nope, not right at all.
I thought it might have been just because it was zero, and not regular, even though I realize that's ridiculous now. When you're panicking over keeping down phantom stomach contents (because remember I hadn't eaten that day) you're not exactly thinking straight. At one point, while another student was asking a question, I actually got up and headed for the door. I didn't want to throw up in the lovely woman's office. I made it to the lobby before I realized I didn't know where I was going, but by then I was able to keep it down.
The director had followed me, so I asked for a bathroom, hoping I could throw up in private, feel better, and continue with the visit. No such luck. For some reason, in the tiny bathroom, I couldn't get anything up. So I washed my hands and went back to the meeting.
The tour after that was torture. There's no air conditioning in the orphanage, so I was hot as anything, sweaty, sticky, and of course none of that helps with an upset stomach. As they started to lead us to the gym, I had that sudden uncontrollable urge again, but was thankfully able to make it to a toilet, where I threw up more than I knew I could possible have in my stomach.
I was miserable, but the women were incredibly kind to me. They got me a bottle of water and helped me wash up. We left not long after that, and I was feeling a bit better, even though my stomach still hurt. My plan was to finish up classes for the day and then go take an anti-bacterial for my digestive track. Unfortunately I didn't get that far.
We were running a little late getting back from class because the orphanage was a little ways away, so the half of us that had afternoon classes decided we didn't have time for lunch and just went to the dar twenty minutes early. I didn't realize one person could get so much sicker in twenty minutes.
I nearly threw up twice, which would have been horrible, because the water was cut off in the building for that day. Meaning no toilets. Eventually I just gave up. Missing one Fusha class wasn't going to kill me, even if we were going over the new vocab that day. So I went to Ustaaz Nour, my eyes watering with a mixture of pain, dizziness, and the effort to speak and keep my stomach calm, and told him I was going back to the dorms.
He was very understanding about it, always is. And I had my homework to turn in, so it wasn't like I was skipping out just because I wasn't prepared. Robyn didn't ask any questions either. I wonder now if she was just being kind or if I really looked that bad. Either way, I didn't really care as long as I got out of there.
I managed to make it back to the dorms before throwing up again, but it was a mad dash from the elevator (I was in no condition to take the stairs) to the restroom, where I only made it to the sink. Thankfully, it was all liquid anyway. At least in the comfort of my own bathroom I was able to pause, take a few breaths, and wash my face. After which I changed in to pjs, tried to drink some sprite, and climbed into bed, praying for sleep. But that wasn't going to happen.
Over the next few hours I ran to the restroom no less than four times. The first to throw up the sprite, the second to throw up the pepto-bismol I'd taken after that, the third pure water, and the fourth the strongest anti-bacterial I had. I was miserable. Every single time was violent and messy.
At that point, I didn't know what to do. Clearly something was wrong, but I couldn't keep down anything that might make it better, and I definitely couldn't sleep it off. So I called Robyn, just to get her opinion, see if it was normal to be this violently ill. She didn't have any advice, but she did call some of the med students to come check on me.
While I was waiting for someone to show up, Habiba stopped by to set up a meeting. She took one look at me and got this horrified look on her face, like I was death warmed over or something. I managed to explain, sort of. Either way, she went and got someone, and with that someone and Robyn's someone, and everyone who was just attracted by the commotion, I had a party of Egyptians sitting in my room discussing what was wrong with me.
Someone gave me another type of pill at some point. I managed to keep it down for a bit, though I still don't know how. I think it helped, but I might have just been going through a down period.
Anyway, Robyn showed up a while after that, and we decided to go to the hospital, mostly because I was dying of thirst and obviously couldn't drink anything. I got my choice of the public hospital or the private one. The private one has better care, but it's also more expensive. Then again, health care is Egypt is a steal compared to America, and I have insurance, so I went with the better care.
They gave me an IV of fluid, first of all. Asked some questions, took my temperature and blood pressure, performed some tests. I think everyone figured it was bug. That's what I thought it was. Mostly I was just hoping they could inject me with a medicine I couldn't throw up. But if I've learned anything over the last few days, Egyptian doctors will go to great lengths to make sure they're right. Which is useful.
So, just as a precaution, they took an ultrasound. Yes, it was cold. Yes, it was sticky. It was a unique experience too, seeing as it's Egypt and they respect women's bodies way more than any doctor in America ever has. I didn't even have to put on a gown. They just rucked up my shirt as little as possible and went at it.
Anyway, as I was saying, it was a good thing they performed the ultrasound, because I, at the ripe young age of twenty, have a wide variety of over-sized gall stones. All that vomiting was a gall stone attack, go figure. And the back pain from where I thought I'd thrown out my back vomiting? Yeah, also part of the attack. Yay me.
Anyway, they got me an appointment with a specialist for the next morning, wrote me a couple prescriptions, and let me go. I'd only thrown up once in the hospital, so I kind of hoped I was getting better.
When I finally got back to the dorms I wasn't sure I'd left the hospital. Many of the Egyptian girls staying in the dorms over summer are in Med School, and almost all of them were anxious to show off their expertise. They were all wonderful though. You would think it would be annoying, having that many people hovering, but it was kind of reassuring just to know they cared. It was also helpful having them there to explain what all the big words on my ultrasound results meant. The results were in English, as most medical practice is in Egypt, but I have no idea what chronic calcular cholecystits or bilirubin means.
I wanted to go to sleep, but I was still sick, and I had to wait two hours to take my first medication. I called Mom and talked to her for a while, then watched a show I'd downloaded. It was doctor show, thankfully, and it made me feel tons better seeing all those poor patients worse off than I was.
I left the door unlocked all night so that the girls could poke their heads in and make sure I was breathing. I swear some of them were more concerned than Mom, which is saying a lot.
My appointment this morning was at ten, but appointments here don't work like appointments in the states. Ten means the doctor will be in at ten, and all the patients get a number when they make their appointment, and then he goes through them one by one. I was fourth in line. But if the doctor's there early, or other patients don't show up, you could be in in now time at all.
Either way, Robyn said she would meet me at the dorms at a quarter to ten. The hospital's only about a five minute cab ride away. I had no intention of getting up early, but I was still disgusting from the day before, so I planned to get up at nine and at least shower before the appointment. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.
My head felt like a ball of lead when my alarm went off this morning. So I hit the snooze button until about 9:32. That gave me just enough to time to pee and brush my teeth before I had to run down and meet Robyn. Still gross.
At the very least I wasn't nauseous anymore. From what Mom's research has told me, gall stone attacks come and go. And from what the doctor's told me, they usually come from fatty foods. At this point I hadn't eaten in two days, so fatty food wasn't a danger.
We got the hospital, and of course there was a wait, but I'm good at waiting. I realized to late I'd forgotten to bring a book, but there were enough signs and diplomas and things on the walls for me to occupy myself deciphering. If nothing else, this whole episode was a great vocabulary builder.
The doctor, when we got in to see him, was a very nice man. I've heard that Egyptian doctors don't like to explain things, but he answered all of my questions without a problem, and when he laid out my options for me, he did it in great detail.
Basically, I need my gallbladder removed, end of story. The question was whether to do it here or back in America. Either place, it would be a laproscopic surgery, meaning that tiny little microscope and about three centimeter long incision points and almost no recovery time. It's cheaper in Egypt, but I have insurance, so that's not a big issue. In America, obviously, I would have the added benefit of my family, but it's a simple surgery, so while it'd be nice to have them around it's not really a necessity.
I needed to discuss my decision with Mom, of course, so I asked the doctor for some time to decide. He gave me the paper work for both options. Talking to Mom though, I realized something important. At this point, I actually have more confidence in the Egyptian doctors than the American ones. They'd certainly treated me better up to this point.
On that note, I'd like to make a side-bar. Some of you may know that back in America I was having stomach issues a couple months back. Anytime I ate, my stomach would hurt, especially when I ate fatty or greasy foods. I had a check up around the same time and I brought it up to Dr. Nguyen. She told me it was heart burn. I questioned her diagnosis, because I'd had heart burn before, and it didn't feel like heart burn, but she brushed me off and told me to by over the counter pills. Mom found out today the conversation wasn't even on record.
Those were my first gall stone symptoms, completely disregarded despite my wanting tests. On the other hand, here, throwing up in a country I expected to be throwing up in, they run a test just to make sure and find something potentially severe. The way Robyn put it, they'd rather cure you the first time than get your money the second.
Anyway, in case you hadn't figured it out I decided to go through with the surgery here. Doctors aside, if I didn't do the surgery here I'd be on a heavy pill and strict diet regimen for the rest of my time here, and I'd still be at risk for another attack. Frankly, I'd really rather enjoy my last two weeks here, and I really don't want to risk an attack on an airplane, because that would suck.
Anyway, after I made the decision we started running around the hospital: to radiology for x-rays, the lab for blood work, and then back to the doctor to find out what to do next. He said the entire surgery team had to approve my work-up before we could set a time for the operation, and the blood work wasn't going to be done until seven that night. So we set an appointment for eight.
Side-bar again, I love Egypt's since of time. I had a doctor's appointment at eight pm. Where else does that happen without an emergency? Everything is open here all the time and people don't think you're crazy for being up at four in the morning. It's awesome.
So, after the hospital, I was feeling a lot better. I went back to the dorms for a shower, and then had a light lunch of tomatoes, cucumbers, bread and white cheese. I also had a piece of baklava, which yes, has a little fat, but I only had one, and baklava's my favorite, and the dorms only have it once every three weeks. Also, it settled fine, so no problem.
Since I was still feeling alright, alright enough to go to class at the very least, I figured I'd best start on my homework for tomorrow. In Egpytian we had three movie clips that we had to watch and transcribe, but they were only on the computers in the dar, and we couldn't put them on a flash drive. As such, I headed over to the dar for our weekly meeting, and then hung out doing my homework.
I finished with the Egyptian around and headed back to the dorms for dinner. Bread, rice, and watermelon. They didn't have cheese this time. Sad face. Robyn showed up around seven and ate with us. Zeinab, one of my my friends who lives on my floor, had asked earlier in the day to go with me. Like I said, they're worried about me. As it turns out though, she thought I was having surgery tonight, and when she realized it was just a meeting didn't want to crowd the doctor.
Eman, one of the other med students, did come with us. I hadn't spent much time with her before, but she's certainly a sweetheart. She got into a playful argument with the taxi driver on the way there, insisting I was Egyptian and refusing to believe he couldn't see it. At the hospital she memorized my patient number, just in case, explained my blood results to me, and helped me translate some words while we were waiting.
We had to go down to the operating room to see the doctor. Apparently that's where he hangs out at night. He was there with the team, and meeting them was funny only from the way the doctor introduced me. They asked me if I wanted them to speak English and he interrupted, insisting with a smile that I spoke Arabic perfectly, but my English wasn't so good. One of the doctors spoke a lot of English anyway.
They said my stats were fine to go ahead with the surgery, and we scheduled it for nine in the morning on Saturday. I have to be at the hospital at eight, I have to fast after midnight the night before, and I have to take a shower either before I go to bed, or before six in the morning.
The last thing we did before leaving was check the price. I sprung for a single room, because it's only two hundred dollars more, and as much as I love them, Egyptians can be loud. I'm not going to post the price, because it's still a big number, but I know it's far cheaper than anything I would have gotten in America.
We stopped at the pharmacy once again on our way out. The specialist had given me a list of three medications; two of which I already had, but I needed the third. Only when I got back to the dorms with Eman (Robyn took a taxi home while we took the tram where we played with this adorable baby boy who kept blowing zerberts when Eman tickled his elbow), did I realize it was the exact same anti-bacterial the travel doctor prescribed me before leaving America.
When I realized, I ran it by Zeinab just to make sure, and while she assured me they were the same medicine, she told me I should take the American, just because it was American medicine and therefore better. I'd heard people say that was a stigma in Egypt, but it was funny hearing her say it so seriously. Meds are meds. Zeinab was, however, amazed by my pill bottle.
Everything in Egypt is over the counter, so everything comes in boxes like you get over the counter in America. When a doctor writes a prescription, it's basically just a list of medications. You don't need his permission to buy them, he's just suggesting them. It astounded Zeinab that you could get different amounts of pills, and she loved that the side effects came listed on the side of the bottle. I'll be finishing off the anti-bacterial pills in a day or two, so I promised she could have the bottle afterward. I'm considering emptying my prescription pain killers into a bag so she can have that bottle too.
Anyway, that's about it for the story. I feel like it might have been a little disjointed, but give me a break. I just went through an ordeal. People are still asking me how I am every five minutes, but I can honestly tell them I'm doing well now. Hopefully come Saturday I'll be even better.
Oh! And in explanation of the post title, the hospital I've spent the better part of two days at is called "Mustashfa Al-Salaama" which roughly translates to "The Hospital of Safety." I was trying to translate it for you guys before I started to post and... well, it doesn't really work. While salaama literally means safety, it has a lot of connotations having to do with peace and health and sometimes religion. Islam and salaama come from the same s-l-m root.
Well, that's it. It took me a long while to write this post, so now I'm tired, and going to bed. Good night everyone!
Yesterday morning I woke up, as usual, but couldn't for the life of my get out of bed, despite it being a later day. I skipped breakfast and pressed my snooze button until I only had half an hour to shower and get ready. I did it, but it was cutting it close.
In the dar, it turned out I had no need to rush. Ustaaz Immad had gotten us an appointment at the orphanage that I later found out he used to volunteer at. That little tidbit of information actually explains a lot about him. He's the kind of guy you'd expect to be volunteering with orphans in his spare time. He's just that kind hearted.
Anyway, we had to wait for everyone from class to gather, and a few people had business to take care of before we left, so we ended up sitting around idly for a bit. And in this idle sitting, I started to not feel so well. One of the girls in our class had gotten sick the day before, so I was a little worried I had what she had, but I was really excited about going to the orphanage, so I sucked it up. In hindsight, not my best choice.
The bus was chosen as our optimal choice of transportation, seeing as there were seven of us. The problem with buses is they're lurchy. I swore I was going to throw up at least twice, but somehow, mind over matter or something, I managed to keep it down. An Alexandria city bus is not somewhere you want to get sick.
But eventually we made it to the orphanage where we met the sweetest woman who was in charge. We sat in her office with her for a while, my stomach in knots, as she told us about the orphanage.
Egyptian orphanages are a little different than American ones, mostly because Egyptian families are so large and close knit. Egyptians tend to grow up with all of their aunts and uncles like second parents, so if a parent dies, there's almost always another family member to take them in. As such, the orphanage is full of children who, rather than not having parents, usually have parents who can't afford to take care of them.
The other reason children might be in an orphanage has to do with religion. By Egyptian law, children inherit the religion of their fathers. Normally, this isn't an issue, because Muslims tend to marry Muslims and Christians tend to marry Christians. However, in the case of a Christian and a Muslim having a baby, if that Christian and Muslim ever split, the child is bound to the father and not the mother. As you can imagine, if the father decides to move away for work or something, as is within his right, that doesn't make the mother very happy.
The solution is often that they put the child in an orphanage of the necessary religion so that the mother can still see her child. The orphanage we visited was Christian, and the director told us that they tend to integrate religion into all facets of life. So it's a big deal.
The orphanage itself was quite nice. They have a large yard to play in and a gym and communal computers. There are forty-seven boys living there at the moment, from first grade up through university. The younger ones were at the beach for the day with some volunteers, but we got to meet some of the older ones. They were all very kind and polite, even inviting the boys in our class to come back and play soccer sometime.
It was a nice visit, or would have been, if my body wasn't inclined to hate me.
All through the directors talk in her office I couldn't concentrate. I wanted to hear what she had to say, but all of my attention was focused on my stomach. About half way through the meeting, I thought I'd found a godsend. One of the other women working there bought in a tray of sodas for us, including sprite zero. And sprite always makes upset tummies feel better, right?
Nope, not right at all.
I thought it might have been just because it was zero, and not regular, even though I realize that's ridiculous now. When you're panicking over keeping down phantom stomach contents (because remember I hadn't eaten that day) you're not exactly thinking straight. At one point, while another student was asking a question, I actually got up and headed for the door. I didn't want to throw up in the lovely woman's office. I made it to the lobby before I realized I didn't know where I was going, but by then I was able to keep it down.
The director had followed me, so I asked for a bathroom, hoping I could throw up in private, feel better, and continue with the visit. No such luck. For some reason, in the tiny bathroom, I couldn't get anything up. So I washed my hands and went back to the meeting.
The tour after that was torture. There's no air conditioning in the orphanage, so I was hot as anything, sweaty, sticky, and of course none of that helps with an upset stomach. As they started to lead us to the gym, I had that sudden uncontrollable urge again, but was thankfully able to make it to a toilet, where I threw up more than I knew I could possible have in my stomach.
I was miserable, but the women were incredibly kind to me. They got me a bottle of water and helped me wash up. We left not long after that, and I was feeling a bit better, even though my stomach still hurt. My plan was to finish up classes for the day and then go take an anti-bacterial for my digestive track. Unfortunately I didn't get that far.
We were running a little late getting back from class because the orphanage was a little ways away, so the half of us that had afternoon classes decided we didn't have time for lunch and just went to the dar twenty minutes early. I didn't realize one person could get so much sicker in twenty minutes.
I nearly threw up twice, which would have been horrible, because the water was cut off in the building for that day. Meaning no toilets. Eventually I just gave up. Missing one Fusha class wasn't going to kill me, even if we were going over the new vocab that day. So I went to Ustaaz Nour, my eyes watering with a mixture of pain, dizziness, and the effort to speak and keep my stomach calm, and told him I was going back to the dorms.
He was very understanding about it, always is. And I had my homework to turn in, so it wasn't like I was skipping out just because I wasn't prepared. Robyn didn't ask any questions either. I wonder now if she was just being kind or if I really looked that bad. Either way, I didn't really care as long as I got out of there.
I managed to make it back to the dorms before throwing up again, but it was a mad dash from the elevator (I was in no condition to take the stairs) to the restroom, where I only made it to the sink. Thankfully, it was all liquid anyway. At least in the comfort of my own bathroom I was able to pause, take a few breaths, and wash my face. After which I changed in to pjs, tried to drink some sprite, and climbed into bed, praying for sleep. But that wasn't going to happen.
Over the next few hours I ran to the restroom no less than four times. The first to throw up the sprite, the second to throw up the pepto-bismol I'd taken after that, the third pure water, and the fourth the strongest anti-bacterial I had. I was miserable. Every single time was violent and messy.
At that point, I didn't know what to do. Clearly something was wrong, but I couldn't keep down anything that might make it better, and I definitely couldn't sleep it off. So I called Robyn, just to get her opinion, see if it was normal to be this violently ill. She didn't have any advice, but she did call some of the med students to come check on me.
While I was waiting for someone to show up, Habiba stopped by to set up a meeting. She took one look at me and got this horrified look on her face, like I was death warmed over or something. I managed to explain, sort of. Either way, she went and got someone, and with that someone and Robyn's someone, and everyone who was just attracted by the commotion, I had a party of Egyptians sitting in my room discussing what was wrong with me.
Someone gave me another type of pill at some point. I managed to keep it down for a bit, though I still don't know how. I think it helped, but I might have just been going through a down period.
Anyway, Robyn showed up a while after that, and we decided to go to the hospital, mostly because I was dying of thirst and obviously couldn't drink anything. I got my choice of the public hospital or the private one. The private one has better care, but it's also more expensive. Then again, health care is Egypt is a steal compared to America, and I have insurance, so I went with the better care.
They gave me an IV of fluid, first of all. Asked some questions, took my temperature and blood pressure, performed some tests. I think everyone figured it was bug. That's what I thought it was. Mostly I was just hoping they could inject me with a medicine I couldn't throw up. But if I've learned anything over the last few days, Egyptian doctors will go to great lengths to make sure they're right. Which is useful.
So, just as a precaution, they took an ultrasound. Yes, it was cold. Yes, it was sticky. It was a unique experience too, seeing as it's Egypt and they respect women's bodies way more than any doctor in America ever has. I didn't even have to put on a gown. They just rucked up my shirt as little as possible and went at it.
Anyway, as I was saying, it was a good thing they performed the ultrasound, because I, at the ripe young age of twenty, have a wide variety of over-sized gall stones. All that vomiting was a gall stone attack, go figure. And the back pain from where I thought I'd thrown out my back vomiting? Yeah, also part of the attack. Yay me.
Anyway, they got me an appointment with a specialist for the next morning, wrote me a couple prescriptions, and let me go. I'd only thrown up once in the hospital, so I kind of hoped I was getting better.
When I finally got back to the dorms I wasn't sure I'd left the hospital. Many of the Egyptian girls staying in the dorms over summer are in Med School, and almost all of them were anxious to show off their expertise. They were all wonderful though. You would think it would be annoying, having that many people hovering, but it was kind of reassuring just to know they cared. It was also helpful having them there to explain what all the big words on my ultrasound results meant. The results were in English, as most medical practice is in Egypt, but I have no idea what chronic calcular cholecystits or bilirubin means.
I wanted to go to sleep, but I was still sick, and I had to wait two hours to take my first medication. I called Mom and talked to her for a while, then watched a show I'd downloaded. It was doctor show, thankfully, and it made me feel tons better seeing all those poor patients worse off than I was.
I left the door unlocked all night so that the girls could poke their heads in and make sure I was breathing. I swear some of them were more concerned than Mom, which is saying a lot.
My appointment this morning was at ten, but appointments here don't work like appointments in the states. Ten means the doctor will be in at ten, and all the patients get a number when they make their appointment, and then he goes through them one by one. I was fourth in line. But if the doctor's there early, or other patients don't show up, you could be in in now time at all.
Either way, Robyn said she would meet me at the dorms at a quarter to ten. The hospital's only about a five minute cab ride away. I had no intention of getting up early, but I was still disgusting from the day before, so I planned to get up at nine and at least shower before the appointment. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.
My head felt like a ball of lead when my alarm went off this morning. So I hit the snooze button until about 9:32. That gave me just enough to time to pee and brush my teeth before I had to run down and meet Robyn. Still gross.
At the very least I wasn't nauseous anymore. From what Mom's research has told me, gall stone attacks come and go. And from what the doctor's told me, they usually come from fatty foods. At this point I hadn't eaten in two days, so fatty food wasn't a danger.
We got the hospital, and of course there was a wait, but I'm good at waiting. I realized to late I'd forgotten to bring a book, but there were enough signs and diplomas and things on the walls for me to occupy myself deciphering. If nothing else, this whole episode was a great vocabulary builder.
The doctor, when we got in to see him, was a very nice man. I've heard that Egyptian doctors don't like to explain things, but he answered all of my questions without a problem, and when he laid out my options for me, he did it in great detail.
Basically, I need my gallbladder removed, end of story. The question was whether to do it here or back in America. Either place, it would be a laproscopic surgery, meaning that tiny little microscope and about three centimeter long incision points and almost no recovery time. It's cheaper in Egypt, but I have insurance, so that's not a big issue. In America, obviously, I would have the added benefit of my family, but it's a simple surgery, so while it'd be nice to have them around it's not really a necessity.
I needed to discuss my decision with Mom, of course, so I asked the doctor for some time to decide. He gave me the paper work for both options. Talking to Mom though, I realized something important. At this point, I actually have more confidence in the Egyptian doctors than the American ones. They'd certainly treated me better up to this point.
On that note, I'd like to make a side-bar. Some of you may know that back in America I was having stomach issues a couple months back. Anytime I ate, my stomach would hurt, especially when I ate fatty or greasy foods. I had a check up around the same time and I brought it up to Dr. Nguyen. She told me it was heart burn. I questioned her diagnosis, because I'd had heart burn before, and it didn't feel like heart burn, but she brushed me off and told me to by over the counter pills. Mom found out today the conversation wasn't even on record.
Those were my first gall stone symptoms, completely disregarded despite my wanting tests. On the other hand, here, throwing up in a country I expected to be throwing up in, they run a test just to make sure and find something potentially severe. The way Robyn put it, they'd rather cure you the first time than get your money the second.
Anyway, in case you hadn't figured it out I decided to go through with the surgery here. Doctors aside, if I didn't do the surgery here I'd be on a heavy pill and strict diet regimen for the rest of my time here, and I'd still be at risk for another attack. Frankly, I'd really rather enjoy my last two weeks here, and I really don't want to risk an attack on an airplane, because that would suck.
Anyway, after I made the decision we started running around the hospital: to radiology for x-rays, the lab for blood work, and then back to the doctor to find out what to do next. He said the entire surgery team had to approve my work-up before we could set a time for the operation, and the blood work wasn't going to be done until seven that night. So we set an appointment for eight.
Side-bar again, I love Egypt's since of time. I had a doctor's appointment at eight pm. Where else does that happen without an emergency? Everything is open here all the time and people don't think you're crazy for being up at four in the morning. It's awesome.
So, after the hospital, I was feeling a lot better. I went back to the dorms for a shower, and then had a light lunch of tomatoes, cucumbers, bread and white cheese. I also had a piece of baklava, which yes, has a little fat, but I only had one, and baklava's my favorite, and the dorms only have it once every three weeks. Also, it settled fine, so no problem.
Since I was still feeling alright, alright enough to go to class at the very least, I figured I'd best start on my homework for tomorrow. In Egpytian we had three movie clips that we had to watch and transcribe, but they were only on the computers in the dar, and we couldn't put them on a flash drive. As such, I headed over to the dar for our weekly meeting, and then hung out doing my homework.
I finished with the Egyptian around and headed back to the dorms for dinner. Bread, rice, and watermelon. They didn't have cheese this time. Sad face. Robyn showed up around seven and ate with us. Zeinab, one of my my friends who lives on my floor, had asked earlier in the day to go with me. Like I said, they're worried about me. As it turns out though, she thought I was having surgery tonight, and when she realized it was just a meeting didn't want to crowd the doctor.
Eman, one of the other med students, did come with us. I hadn't spent much time with her before, but she's certainly a sweetheart. She got into a playful argument with the taxi driver on the way there, insisting I was Egyptian and refusing to believe he couldn't see it. At the hospital she memorized my patient number, just in case, explained my blood results to me, and helped me translate some words while we were waiting.
We had to go down to the operating room to see the doctor. Apparently that's where he hangs out at night. He was there with the team, and meeting them was funny only from the way the doctor introduced me. They asked me if I wanted them to speak English and he interrupted, insisting with a smile that I spoke Arabic perfectly, but my English wasn't so good. One of the doctors spoke a lot of English anyway.
They said my stats were fine to go ahead with the surgery, and we scheduled it for nine in the morning on Saturday. I have to be at the hospital at eight, I have to fast after midnight the night before, and I have to take a shower either before I go to bed, or before six in the morning.
The last thing we did before leaving was check the price. I sprung for a single room, because it's only two hundred dollars more, and as much as I love them, Egyptians can be loud. I'm not going to post the price, because it's still a big number, but I know it's far cheaper than anything I would have gotten in America.
We stopped at the pharmacy once again on our way out. The specialist had given me a list of three medications; two of which I already had, but I needed the third. Only when I got back to the dorms with Eman (Robyn took a taxi home while we took the tram where we played with this adorable baby boy who kept blowing zerberts when Eman tickled his elbow), did I realize it was the exact same anti-bacterial the travel doctor prescribed me before leaving America.
When I realized, I ran it by Zeinab just to make sure, and while she assured me they were the same medicine, she told me I should take the American, just because it was American medicine and therefore better. I'd heard people say that was a stigma in Egypt, but it was funny hearing her say it so seriously. Meds are meds. Zeinab was, however, amazed by my pill bottle.
Everything in Egypt is over the counter, so everything comes in boxes like you get over the counter in America. When a doctor writes a prescription, it's basically just a list of medications. You don't need his permission to buy them, he's just suggesting them. It astounded Zeinab that you could get different amounts of pills, and she loved that the side effects came listed on the side of the bottle. I'll be finishing off the anti-bacterial pills in a day or two, so I promised she could have the bottle afterward. I'm considering emptying my prescription pain killers into a bag so she can have that bottle too.
Anyway, that's about it for the story. I feel like it might have been a little disjointed, but give me a break. I just went through an ordeal. People are still asking me how I am every five minutes, but I can honestly tell them I'm doing well now. Hopefully come Saturday I'll be even better.
Oh! And in explanation of the post title, the hospital I've spent the better part of two days at is called "Mustashfa Al-Salaama" which roughly translates to "The Hospital of Safety." I was trying to translate it for you guys before I started to post and... well, it doesn't really work. While salaama literally means safety, it has a lot of connotations having to do with peace and health and sometimes religion. Islam and salaama come from the same s-l-m root.
Well, that's it. It took me a long while to write this post, so now I'm tired, and going to bed. Good night everyone!
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