Tetanus

Mike-

Kolkata Medical College Hospital:

This entire trip I’ve been complaining of Athlete’s Foot; itchy-ass toes. Usually, I will not scratch. Instead, I lubricate. About ten days ago, my resolve failed me, and I scratched, and oh, it felt so good. I scratched, and scratched some more. It was glorious, that is, until I woke up the next morning to find my left ring toe peeling in an oval-shaped region a little longer than a quarter. Oops.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, I’m getting to that.

For the next week or so, it was a minor irritant. My sandals rubbed up against it, and it stung a little in the salt water. It did not impede anything, nor did I ever feel the need to get it checked out; a little scab, nothing more.

One day I noticed it getting somewhat bruised around the ridges, and slightly leaking. I’ll spare the Polaroid’s, but I decided to clean it up and dress it.

I thought it was getting better. Drainage is usually the first step of the healing process; n’est pas?

As we stepped onto our flight to Kolkata yesterday afternoon, I noticed that it was getting sore, and the region below my baby toe was slightly swollen. Okay, I thought, maybe I should be a little more diligent with my dressing and cleaning of the little bugger.

By nightfall, it was getting tough to walk, so I figured I’d call it in early and sleep it off.
The next morning, I woke up to find that my foot was noticeably more swollen and discoloured. It was very difficult to walk, and it felt like somebody had taken a hammer to my metatarsals. According to the Gavin Formula, which usually always works, I decided to suck it up and walk it off. Time heals all wounds.

It wasn’t simply some masochistic urge to test my pain threshold. I have no international medical insurance, and I didn’t think that my “Athletes Foot Gone Awry” predicament was worthy of breaking the bank.

So I thought: “What could I get to fight infections?” Hmmm, when I was young and had ear infections, it was Penicillin that was always prescribed to me... yeah, that’ll work...

So Teg and I wandered around BBD Bagh in Kolkata, searching for a pharmacy that would sell me penicillin over the counter (without prescription). Today was also Sunday, so nothing was open. Figures.

Finally, we paid a street person to bring us to a chemist that was open on Sundays. I bought twelve 800mg. of Penicillin tablets without a hitch. No questions asked. It even had “ONLY SOLD IF PERSCRIBED BY A LICENSED MEDICAL PRACTIONER” written on the side, in big bold letters. Bada Bing Bada Boom. I pop my first pill shortly after.

Three hours and one pill later, I am bed-ridden, writhing in excruciating pain. My foot didn’t look like a foot anymore; it was swollen beyond recognition.


Teg was very persistent. She hounded me to go to the hospital. I fought the urge to go. It would be a huge hassle, and I usually can solve most medical problems on my own, usually with the combination of alcohol, a razorblade, and the World Wide Web.

But, it kept getting worse. After a few hours of contemplating my options, and waiting for the penicillin to kick in, I submitted. The Indian hospital adventure was about to begin.
The hotel front desk suggested we go to the Kolkata Medical College Hospital, as it was only a five minute drive from the hotel. We arrived at the hospital to find crowds and crowds of people waiting on the steps outside of the emergency ward. It was clear that most of the people were not sick or injured; probably there with friends of relatives, but still, you don’t expect to show up to the emergency entrance to find a torrential wave of humanity trying to peek into the ward to see what the action is. It felt like a president had just been shot, or a rock star, or something.

The hospital itself was in an old colonial building, which I gotta say, wasn’t in the best shape. When blood is split, if you don’t clean it up right away, it stains. Impossible to wash off completely, the remnants of blood on the floors, benches, sinks, and walls only added to the perceived carnage of one of the most hectic scenes I have ever witnessed.

We were hustled right away into an administrative office, away from most of the emergency patients, to wait for the doctor. Let me add that there was no check-in, no forms to fill-out, and no inquiry into my medical history, only a crass “sit!”

The doctor, who was probably younger than I, came in, looked at my foot for about five seconds and declared that I had a tetanus infection. He scribbled “5 cc syringe” onto a piece of paper and told me to walk across the street to the chemist to buy myself a needle.

Five rupees for my own personal needle, and I am back in the room, waiting for the doctor to come back and administer my injections. Tetanus shot in my right arm. Painkiller in my left. Then I am whisked off to wait in the general emergency ward for him to come and dress my foot.

It’s difficult to describe the scene without it sounding like an exaggeration. It’s hard to tell what most of the patients were in for. There were people praying, screaming, crying, and generally writhing in pain, all around, with no privacy whatsoever. Being present, you had to share in the collective agony of those around you. There were people lying on the floor, people lying on the benches, people being carried by others, and people trying to escape.

One guy, who most likely had overdosed, was being held down by a few kids, and when they weren’t succeeding, other random strangers filled in to help. I don’t think that would ever happen in Vancouver; random bystanders helping restrain the two-bit junky. But, at this hospital, there were no nurses, no administrative help, and no orderlies; the doctors took care of everything, so I guess there is a sense of public responsibility of the Indian people inducing them to help.

Anyway, I regress. It makes you really appreciate the conditions back home, even if our neighbours down-south consider the public system “broken”.

Oh yeah. Another interesting point: I told my doctor that I had been taking Penicillin, and he laughed at me. Apparently, infections in India have progressed so much that Penicillin no longer works. My batch was the so-called “First Generation”, and had no hope of ever working.

As I conclude this account of our adventure in the Indian public system, the painkillers are working their magic. I’ve got high hopes that the swelling will go down, and the tetanus will be eradicated. For how shocking of a visual the hospital provided, in hind-sight, I was in-and-out, feeling a hell of a lot better than I did going in. Beforehand, I was quite concerned about the cost of the trip, because I opted out of buying medical insurance before we left. But, funny enough, the entire thing cost absolutely nothing. Can’t argue with that.


Teg- Mike sums it up real good. All I can really add is that while in the hospital, all I kept thinking and repeating in my head was the wise words off Aladdin to Abu: DON’T. TOUCH. ANYTHING!!!

Mike’s foot starting feeling sore late at night the day we arrived in Kolkata. The irony is incredible. We had been walking around Park’s Street, this huge area, blocks upon blocks of shops and restaurants everywhere. When we initially got to this chaotic area, we had one thing on our minds – McDonalds!!! We asked about twenty different people to direct us to our dreamland lol, none of whom could understand or direct us. Still, at this time Mike was walking fine. We finally came to a street where a little boy asked us if we wanted to buy some gum, we declined, but took the chance and asked him if he knew where the McDonalds was. Funny thing, he knew instantly what we were talking about, and immediately became our guide. Food was great! Finally a meal we recognized. We bought the boy and his brother some Happy Meals and at this point everyone was extremely satisfied! It is not long after this meal, on the walk back to the hotel that Mike’s foot becomes eminent, and the limping begins. Such a high followed promptly by what is now quite a low.