The Hospital

One word to describe my experience being held against my will in a Korean hospital: ABSURDITY! Monday the 10th I hobbled into the lobby with a co-teacher to find out what the real damage was. I didn't exactly trust the doctors in the farm hospital and was hoping to be released from the hell that is walking with crutches. I was wheeled around the building for an X-ray that showed the damage I had done. Who knew that a casual swipe of a tree stump could split one of my proximal phalanges in two? The doctor casually informed me that I would have surgery that day, spend the next 5-7 days bedridden in an 8 person room, and then be on crutches for 4 weeks. I cried.

The most upsetting moment of the week occurred as I was put on a wheeling bed and swept away from my love. We raced through double doors and into a blindingly white room. The panic set in as soon as the green masked surgeons leaned over me. I felt trapped, like a lab specimen due for dissection. Four men rolled me onto my side, tucked my head to my knees, and started prodding my spine. To say I lost it would be an understatement. Shuddering sobs racked my body as I lay helplessly unaware of what was happening. A sharp, stabbing pain and then I lost all feeling below my waist. What started as a comforting warmth turned into a devastating paralysis. The poor surgeons did not know what to make of me, a weird white girl, crying harder than ever at this point. Finally a saint appeared with a gas mask and I didn't even have time to count to 10 before I woke up in recovery.

Still unable to even wiggle a toe, I felt no pain. I was taken to my room where I was told to wait 10 hours before eating. Yeah right. Aaron came to me as soon as we were alone and snuck me a kimbob triangle that I ate with a stealth usually reserved for teens getting high in their parents' house.

The rest of my time was spent giggling with the steady stream of visitors I had and attempting to choke down the food. If you think hospital food is bad, you should try Korean hospital food. Each day I asked if I could go home only to be shut down my doctor. I wheeled myself around the floor, trying not to get my IV cord stuck in my chair. I stared at the wall, ceiling, floor, and walls again. I read, slept, ate, slept, did puzzles, threatened my roommate who wouldn't shut it, and slept some more. All in all it was more boring than sitting through a capstone class at the university.

Finally the day came when the doctor, hearing my plea for release for the 6th time, assented. I paid my bill of about $200 (including surgery, pain pills, a bed for 3 nights, and meals) and ran out the door (or rather crutched awkwardly).

I have about 2 weeks left on my crutches. I will kill.