Welcome to India!

Goodbye Nepal

I’ve spent the first ten days of my trip to India in the hospital.
I really got sidetracked in Nepal. I know I've said repeatedly how much I loved it there and after six weeks I still hated to leave the place. I became part of a family.

I met a group of river rafting and kayaking guides and hung out with them for a month, two weeks of which were spent on a Himalayan river. I went on two rafting trips and then took a kayaking clinic on the Trisuli. The river is what the guides call pool-drop style where big rapids are followed by beautiful calm stretches. We would paddle through a rapid and then kick back, enjoy the scenery and wait for the next one. The 3+ rapids were really fun on a raft and terrifying on a kayak. The raft flipped a couple times and the guides would rescue us without a hitch. At least one person would fall out over each rapid and the guide would grab us by the lifejacket and hoist us back onto the raft. It was a lot of fun. We would stop each day on a sandy beach to have lunch.
The rafting company, Adrenaline Rush Nepal (adrenalinenepal.com) owned by my friend Ramesh was an incredibly professional outfit and the home cooked food was spectacular. They would spend hours chopping fresh vegetables for each meal, which was amazing considering we were camping. In the afternoons we would stop for the day, sit by the fire and then in the evenings we would have dinner and fall asleep under the stars. On the various trips I took, I hung out with two Danes, an American, a German, six Israelis, four Brits, an Italian and one Dutch girl. The days spent kayaking really kicked my ass. It was so much harder than I had expected. The rapids were big and I never learned to roll but did learn to get out of my kayak after tipping six times a day. It was scary but I could see why people love it. The guides made it look so simple. The hardest part was hoisting the 35+ pound kayak up a steep dirt and rock face in flip flops. I’m no sissy and it was incredibly difficult.
The guides, Maila and Ramesh, developed boils on their legs during the two weeks I spent on the river. There are no showers available while camping and we spent a lot of time in the river rubbing up against the rafts or kayaks and then sitting in wet clothes. Maila had a dime size boil on his calf and the redness covered the entire lower half of his leg. He dug at the wound and tried to release the infection and then covered it with a cloth and kept on kayaking. They complained about the excruciating pain but kept on. 
I had no idea it could be so painful until it happened to me. I noticed a small bump on the back of my thigh and blew it off for about five days until it became large and infected. I showed it to Ramesh and he insisted I go to a doctor. He took me to the public hospital in Kathmandu where I waited for three hours to see a doctor. The receptionist finally told me to go up to the third floor of the hospital to the operating room. There were dozens of people sitting on the floor and in the stairwell waiting. I finally was led into the operation area and the doctor took a look at the boil and said it had to be extracted. He sent Ramesh down to the pharmacy to buy gloves, a scalpel, syringes and all the necessary supplies for the operation. You had to buy your own supplies? They put me in a room with another lady who they examined while I was sitting there. I looked away. The nurse picked up a filthy looking gown that had been crumpled and thrown on a bed and told me to put it on. The whole experience up until this point had been scary but the dirty gown almost put me over the edge. I asked the nurse if she could get me a clean one and she just looked at me. I put the gown on and began to cry.
The doctor led me to the operation room. There were about five people standing around a table. I laid down on the operating table and they gave me six or seven shots of local anesthesia. It was excruciatingly painful. I cried out. One of the doctors told me to relax and asked me if I wanted to listen to some music. He pulled out his cell phone and began playing “I Need to Know” by Marc Anthony. Marc Anthony was the last thing I wanted to hear, let alone from the doctors cell phone which he put down next to my head. They commented on the wound and said the boil was very infected and that it had created a large cavity. They told me to have the dressing changed by a doctor and that I might need to have a couple stitches in a few days. The operation took about 15 minutes and Ramesh gave me a ride back to my guesthouse on his motorbike.
The next day I flew to India. 
I landed in Delhi where I met up with Arie and Kenna who had been in India for a week or more. I hadn’t seen Arie in three weeks so it was good to be reunited. The area we were staying in Delhi was filthy and hot and I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with my wound. I asked the front desk of the guesthouse if they knew of a doctor and the man who owned the carpet store next door said to come back later in the evening and he would take me to a doctor. I went back and he had another man take me through some alleys to a room where a man laid on a table hooked up to an IV. The doctor said the bandage was large and that I should go to a hospital. So, the next day the girls and I set out to find a medical clinic. After spending an hour in an auto rickshaw searching the streets of Delhi we finally found the East West Medical Center.
The place was small and clean and a doctor saw me right away. She took off the dressing and informed me that I had a major infection. I was laying on my stomach straining to see the wound on the back of my thigh. When I saw it I gasped. Then I began to cry. Kenna almost fainted and she cried as well. It was a huge crater in the back of my leg. From my viewpoint it looked to be about two inches across and I was later told that it was two inches deep. The doctor said that I would need to spend at least a week in the hospital. I couldn’t believe the severity of the situation. The doctors agreed the infection was caused by unsanitary conditions on the river, the fact that I was continuously wet and because unlike my friends, I was not used to the bacteria in the water. I was terrified to stay in a hospital in such a far away place. So for the last ten days I have been in the hospital, hooked up to numerous IV’s. The doctors travel in a group of up to six or seven.  They shuffle in my room about the same time every day, stand around me and inspect the wound. The head doctor, a Sikh named Dr. Chawla explains the day’s events while the other doctors look on. As they were leaving my room on the first day, one of the doctors turned to me and said, “Welcome to India!”
On the fifth day, I had plastic surgery to mend the hole. It took 35 stitches but went well and I am expected to make a full recovery and be on my way in another week. The surface stitches will be removed and I will be good as new. The nurses and doctors have treated me very well and the level of care has been excellent. It’s been rough but this too shall pass and I will continue my adventure. I think it’s going to cost over $3,000, which is extremely cheap for the kind of care I’ve received. It would be more than that for the anesthesiologist alone if I were in the US. I purchased travel insurance so I’m hoping to get reimbursed for most of it.
What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.
I would like to really thank Ariella and Kenna who have stood by me through this entire fiasco. They’ve sacrificed their own India experience to stay with me. They’ve come to the hospital every day and entertained me with cards and TV and movies and junk food. They’ve held my hand while I’ve cried and congratulated me on my progress. Only a few more days and I will be free. Couldn’t have made it without you two. Thank you. Thanks to my Mom too who has called me morning and night.