A Weenie's Adventure in a Chinese ER

Before the fall

One of the reasons weenies have second thoughts about traveling to exotic locations is the pre-trip litany of "what ifs" that pop into one's head prior to hitting the road. What if I get lost? What if I get sold into white slavery? What if I fall ill? Well, my friends, I can't speak to Questions #1 and #2, but let me relate the tale of my night in a Chinese ER. It was a harrowing situation, but even though I am a weenie, I must say, I took it in stride. Let me tell you the story, leaving out some of the less digestible details.

As part of a government-run tour of China back in the mid-1980s, our group made various obligatory stops at communes, factories, and a hospital. At the time, the latter seemed like a place of torture, as patients were undergoing procedures like cupping and acupuncture--treatments that seemed archaic then, but, in retrospect, were rather ahead of their time. The sanitation conditions at the hospital weren't all that keen. Pity the poor Westerner who might fall ill and end up in one of China's health centers back in the 1980s.

Or pity the poor Westerner who falls ill in 2013...namely, me. It's an extremely hot May day in China. We have spent a long morning sightseeing at The Summer Palace. The afternoon is reserved for the concrete-clad Tiannamen Square and the expansive Forbidden City. It's 95 degrees, not counting the heat emanating from the pavement below. Beijing's poor air quality adds to the torturous conditions. It is 2:00 PM--high time for Chairman Sun.

All is fine until we enter the Forbidden City, inside of which no beverages are available. I start feeling the effects of heat exhaustion, a condition from which I have previously suffered (the last after a Bikram Yoga session led by Dick Cheney). My heart starts palpitating, I go pale, and my mouth dries up like the Gobi. I know from experience that I am too far gone. I sit against the walls of the Forbidden City, knowing that Confucius says a hospital visit is in my future.

One of my colleagues runs outside the walls to buy water. I down it as if I am being water-boarded. Bad choice, says the doctor who treated me later. Drinking too much straight H2O when dehydrated can be a version of Chinese Water Torture (one should take water with a helping of electrolytes, apparently). But I am getting ahead of myself. Back in the Forbidden City, I commandeer a wheelchair and a "driver", who races me through the cobblestone plazas of the Forbidden City, nearly crashing into people, rickshaws, and bicyclists along the way. He gets me back to the parked tour bus after an hour and I start feeling a bit better.

That feeling was short-lived, and I know an IV drip at the ER is the only cure. It takes two hours to get through traffic to a hospital that ostensibly has an International Travel Clinic. Ostensibly, I say, as no one speaks anything but Chinese, and the toilets in the waiting area are Eastern-style. Believe me.

The face of heat exhaustion

After an hour of waiting, I finally meet with an English-speaking doctor and relate my malady. He orders blood tests. Let it be said that Chinese nurses are not gentle with their needles, which are the old heavy metal types. After being jabbed in the wrist several times, I am wheeled back for an IV. I should add that my blood pressure was never taken, nor was my temperature. Furthermore, I was not given the ability to change out of my clothing, stained with sweat and, ahem, other bodily fluids. 

Two young ladies from the Chinese outpost of my tour company stay with me all night. Thank goodness. There is no accessible button to call the nurse. There are no regular rounds--I didn't see a doctor nor a nurse for hours at a time. When I have to take a bathroom break, my lovely ladies grab my IV bag and hook it above the toilet. This loo, while Western-style, does not come equipped with toilet paper nor soap. No soap in a hospital? Not very encouraging.

Also not very encouraging--the first charge on my credit card for 6000 RBM--the equivalent of $1000. Then, each time a blood test was run, they take my credit card again. Fortunately, whatever the total ended up being, my trusty TravelGuard policy covered it. 

End of story: I am released from the hospital at 7 AM with a bag of electrolytes and a list of instructions printed in Chinese. I head off to a Beijing hotel to recover before rejoining my group in another country the next day. 

Now, given this adventure, a true weenie might defer from future trips to hot spots. But there was no way I was passing up the chance to head to Namibia just four months later, even though it was almost summer there and that country is largely desert. To offset my chances of landing in an African ER, I stocked myself with REI electrolyte tablets, moderated my liquid intake, and wore a big old hat. I am report to report that I traveled through Namibia cool as a cucumber.