The very definition of "dread"...
I have a gynecological appointment tomorrow.
This will be my first in India. It's always delightful to take an uncomfortable and unpleasant experience and then add to it a few layers of cultural uncertainty and fundamental concern over what basic health and safety procedures will be followed.
A little comparative gynecology:
In rural Thailand, the care is remarkably good, even though farm animals freely roam the medical buildings. The doctors speak a bit of English -- though, in this context, the Thai inability to pronounce the letter "v" is particularly amusing. It's like getting a pelvic from Elmer Fudd. Granted, that's actually more disturbing than amusing.
In London, they don't use the "stirrup" contraption; they make you do some yoga-esque contortions instead. And a basic exam costs the equivalent of $300.
While we're on unpleasant health subjects, my insomnia this week has been worse than usual. I was such a zombie at work that I fell prey to that one mental state that'll really get you in trouble quickly in India: auto-pilot. I was thirsty, and instead of getting water from the filtered tank, I let habit take over and unthinkingly got it from the tap. And drank an entire mugful. I did think "man, that tastes weird," but, because I had no memory of filling the cup, didn't even question it until I got a second mugful from the tank and realized tank water is always chilled. Tap water never is. Geez, I retch and get dry heaves and feel my insides roil just thinking about it. Which I recognize for what it is:
A preview.
Sigh.
This will be my first in India. It's always delightful to take an uncomfortable and unpleasant experience and then add to it a few layers of cultural uncertainty and fundamental concern over what basic health and safety procedures will be followed.
A little comparative gynecology:
In rural Thailand, the care is remarkably good, even though farm animals freely roam the medical buildings. The doctors speak a bit of English -- though, in this context, the Thai inability to pronounce the letter "v" is particularly amusing. It's like getting a pelvic from Elmer Fudd. Granted, that's actually more disturbing than amusing.
In London, they don't use the "stirrup" contraption; they make you do some yoga-esque contortions instead. And a basic exam costs the equivalent of $300.
While we're on unpleasant health subjects, my insomnia this week has been worse than usual. I was such a zombie at work that I fell prey to that one mental state that'll really get you in trouble quickly in India: auto-pilot. I was thirsty, and instead of getting water from the filtered tank, I let habit take over and unthinkingly got it from the tap. And drank an entire mugful. I did think "man, that tastes weird," but, because I had no memory of filling the cup, didn't even question it until I got a second mugful from the tank and realized tank water is always chilled. Tap water never is. Geez, I retch and get dry heaves and feel my insides roil just thinking about it. Which I recognize for what it is:
A preview.
Sigh.
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