Throughout much of the day following the banana leaf lunch I had noticed an ache in my throat. Shrugging it off and grabbing some herbal cough drops from the med kit, I didn’t think much of it. As the day turned to evening and evening to night whatever was plaguing me had progressed. My throat was so swollen it was noticeably more challenging to breath. As we sat through the dance performance, I tried not to swallow – each time I did I felt it growing tighter and my body panicking in response. I took a Benadryl, hoping that would quell the swelling, especially if I was having an allergic reaction to something. I managed to fall asleep that night but around midnight, I woke up to my body’s panicky reaction to my laborious breathing and tightening airways. Had I been in the US at this time, or even in Manipal, I probably would have gone to the doctor, despite my general avoidance of going to doctors for illnesses. But being in India, in a relatively small village in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, that wasn’t really an option.
I crept out of my room, careful to not wake my roommates, heading outside to see if coughing would help clear my airways. It didn’t really and I mostly worried about disturbing people. I wandered back in and out of the room, panic growing greater. I would have been fine if my condition stayed the same, but what if it worsened? What if my throat closed up all the way? What then? Where would I go? Was there somewhere to go? I had no way of knowing what was going on and what was going to happen. I took a hot shower hoping the steam would loosen it up a bit and when that also failed I ended up waking up Katie Jo. She gave me a strong anti-histamine from the med kit, which would hopefully help if it was an allergic reaction. I had no idea what an allergic reaction was like, having never had one before. The medicine ended up not helping, but it was enough to calm my nerves enough to fall back asleep.
In the morning, it was no better, but I felt calmer knowing people were awake and there were more options to get help should that be necessary. I ended up finding a hospital in town, which I went to as some of the group visited temples or relaxed at the hotel. I asked for the ENT specialist that I heard worked at the hospital, but they told me he wouldn’t be available until six pm, just as our train that night was supposed to leave. I told them it was an emergency so they directed me to the casualty ward. This would be my second visit to a casualty ward in my time in India so far.
Nurses immediately began taking my blood pressure and temperature. I tried my best to explain my symptoms, mostly getting blank stares in return. The doctor came but never examined my throat, or anything for that matter. He asked me my name, age, if I felt nauseous, if I had body aches, and that was just about it. He wrote me a prescription for four unknown drugs and sent me on my way. Feeling no more confident in the situation I filled the prescriptions, unsure of what else I could do. There were points throughout the day I just wanted to cry as I devoted all my energy to making sure I could breathe and my tight throat dominated my thoughts, but couldn’t, for fear that would just make it worse. I took the drugs, not really sure what they were, but hoping they would help.
By night the tightness had given way to intense coughing. The type I get when I have bronchitis or pneumonia. Paradoxically, this was comforting. I knew what having a bad cough was like and I was not worried anymore that I wouldn’t be able to breathe.
I fell asleep early and by the following morning my throat was much better and all I had to worry about was the cough. I had no complaints though, knowing everything was going to be okay. I was really lucky. More than a week later, I’m still coughing, but it is slowly getting less frequent and less severe.
Despite all of this, I made sure to power through and join the group for every visit and activity not wanting to miss out on any opportunities, not knowing if they’d ever come again.
As a public health student, studying distribution of and access to health services, I felt a little ashamed it took my own health to realize what this fully meant. It is sometimes too easy to forget the individual humanity behind the statistics we study in classes. Understanding what it meant to not have access to the care I needed when I needed it opened my eyes in a new way to healthcare in India and around the world. Sometimes these perspective changes are exactly what we need to be reminded about why what we are doing is important, why it is necessary.
I crept out of my room, careful to not wake my roommates, heading outside to see if coughing would help clear my airways. It didn’t really and I mostly worried about disturbing people. I wandered back in and out of the room, panic growing greater. I would have been fine if my condition stayed the same, but what if it worsened? What if my throat closed up all the way? What then? Where would I go? Was there somewhere to go? I had no way of knowing what was going on and what was going to happen. I took a hot shower hoping the steam would loosen it up a bit and when that also failed I ended up waking up Katie Jo. She gave me a strong anti-histamine from the med kit, which would hopefully help if it was an allergic reaction. I had no idea what an allergic reaction was like, having never had one before. The medicine ended up not helping, but it was enough to calm my nerves enough to fall back asleep.
In the morning, it was no better, but I felt calmer knowing people were awake and there were more options to get help should that be necessary. I ended up finding a hospital in town, which I went to as some of the group visited temples or relaxed at the hotel. I asked for the ENT specialist that I heard worked at the hospital, but they told me he wouldn’t be available until six pm, just as our train that night was supposed to leave. I told them it was an emergency so they directed me to the casualty ward. This would be my second visit to a casualty ward in my time in India so far.
Nurses immediately began taking my blood pressure and temperature. I tried my best to explain my symptoms, mostly getting blank stares in return. The doctor came but never examined my throat, or anything for that matter. He asked me my name, age, if I felt nauseous, if I had body aches, and that was just about it. He wrote me a prescription for four unknown drugs and sent me on my way. Feeling no more confident in the situation I filled the prescriptions, unsure of what else I could do. There were points throughout the day I just wanted to cry as I devoted all my energy to making sure I could breathe and my tight throat dominated my thoughts, but couldn’t, for fear that would just make it worse. I took the drugs, not really sure what they were, but hoping they would help.
By night the tightness had given way to intense coughing. The type I get when I have bronchitis or pneumonia. Paradoxically, this was comforting. I knew what having a bad cough was like and I was not worried anymore that I wouldn’t be able to breathe.
I fell asleep early and by the following morning my throat was much better and all I had to worry about was the cough. I had no complaints though, knowing everything was going to be okay. I was really lucky. More than a week later, I’m still coughing, but it is slowly getting less frequent and less severe.
Despite all of this, I made sure to power through and join the group for every visit and activity not wanting to miss out on any opportunities, not knowing if they’d ever come again.
As a public health student, studying distribution of and access to health services, I felt a little ashamed it took my own health to realize what this fully meant. It is sometimes too easy to forget the individual humanity behind the statistics we study in classes. Understanding what it meant to not have access to the care I needed when I needed it opened my eyes in a new way to healthcare in India and around the world. Sometimes these perspective changes are exactly what we need to be reminded about why what we are doing is important, why it is necessary.