Allison Wonderland

So much of what happened that day was surreal that being wheeled into Moulana hospital was like dropping down a rabbit hole, then falling out of myself, landing in a strange and curious place.

It had none of the outward formality, detachment, quiet or antiseptic atmosphere of hospitals I knew back home. It was a world less angular, less fragmented, alive.

Out of the ambulance I was in a throb of humanity - young, old, Hindu, Muslim- a constant sweep and swirl. Triage took place behind quickly drawn curtains just inside the open front entrance where traffic stopped, idled, and moved on. People gathered or walked past, billowing my curtain, my wall. Electric fans rattled and thrummed. Lying on my back I traced electric wiring that ran across the ceiling then entered, or moved around, open junction boxes before disappearing out of sight. I heard no bells, chimes, announcements, pages or codes, nor the beeping from sleek high tech machines so much a part of a familiar and distant world.

Later, I would see staff wearing flip-flops only to take them off before entering treatment rooms barefooted. Nurses carried large, rectangular metal boxes that opened to a pressure cuff and mercury tube. Sometimes, ponderous yet portable x-ray machines, dating from another era, sat parked in corridors.

Patients in wheelchairs or on stretchers were rolled into elevators packed tight with visitors, family, or staff. The operator, perched on a stool, would ring a bell for everyone to get off so that a patient could come or go. An old man pushed a cart with a big metal pot up and down my ward, loudly calling out something Al did not understand. Al thinks he was there to ladle out a drink, tea perhaps. Stairways were lined with waiting families, many Muslim, taking softly amongst themselves or asleep on thin mats.

Several times a day the power would go out, it was as if the hospital closed its eyes for a momentary rest before carrying on.

Efficiency or quality of care?  Second to none……second to none.

Within an hour and a half I had been admitted, taken for CT scans, assessed by an orthopaedic surgeon and a maxillofacial surgeon. My upper jaw was broken and I could no longer bend my elbows. X-rays showed that the right one was broken in three places, the left one had shattered. Fortunately, there was no spinal injury or head trauma - bike helmets work! I remember one of the surgeons telling me that I had good Karma that day. He was right.

The doctors conferred and decided to do all surgeries at the same time. Four hours later I went into the O.R. I was there for three hours.

Without going into details, the work the surgeons did was exceptional.

I would be in the hospital for five days – nearly as long as I was on the trip in the first place.

So there I was, Allison Wonderland, and I was grateful for that.