My 15 Seconds of Fame
I used to have to ponder awhile when asked to name my "most embarrassing moment." Not for lack of blunders, mind you, but I didn't have a bona fide bury-your-head-in-the-sand doozy of a story. Well, that's all changed now. . .
After five weeks of gallivanting around Bali and India, the time had come for Rahul and me to settle down for a month and do a little work. I was actually looking forward to donning the white coat and stethoscope in a foreign land, to seeing patients with exotic infectious diseases I'd read about but never seen, to working with doctors who make do without all the advanced technology we rely on in the US. I showed up for my first day at the clinic full of curiosity and ready for action. The 36 hours prior hadn't been kind to Rahul and me--digestive derailment had struck with a vengeance--but we'd turned the corner and were on the mend. When asked by my two fellow medical students how I was feeling on our way in to see the first patient, I'd answered honestly, "Oh, I'm fine now."
And then five minutes into the first patient examination, I passed out. I remember feeling a little funny and saying, "Matthew, Alison, I'm kinda dizzy. Uh, actually I can't see you guys anymore." Then suddenly I awoke to 20 brown faces I'd never seen before staring down at me from a tight huddle. "I think I passed out!," I said helpfully and incredulously from the floor.
Matthew and Alison then told me the glorious story of the seconds that had just passed. Immediately upon announcing my inability to see, I had performed an elegant eyes-rolling-back, knees-bucking, keeling-over routine. I swooned into the capable arms of Matthew, the 200-pound stolid Army doc who caught me on my way down, easing me to the floor. Supine and unconscious, I then delighted patients, doctors and nurses alike with a spastic arm and leg dance, my eyes obscenely wide open throughout. And then came the kicker. I pooped on myself. Not wanting to be left out of the fun, my intestines did some spasming of their own during my 15 seconds of vulnerability. Oh the betrayal! So there I was, 5 minutes into my new stint as a visiting medical student in India, lying on the floor in a white coat that was most certainly no longer white.
Ironically, the tainted goods behind this debacle turned out to be a lowly bag of raisins we had eaten with the hope of getting the old bowels moving after 3 days of unwanted inactivity. And therein lies the essence of the Indian travel experience: all extremes, nothing in the middle. You poop too much, you poop too little. You remember the days back home when pooping was so routine that you scarcely gave it a passing thought. You also remember a time, not so long ago really, when you couldn't say the word "diarrhea" aloud without squirming, forget memorializing your colonic catastrophes on the web for all eternity. Ah, India.
-meg
After five weeks of gallivanting around Bali and India, the time had come for Rahul and me to settle down for a month and do a little work. I was actually looking forward to donning the white coat and stethoscope in a foreign land, to seeing patients with exotic infectious diseases I'd read about but never seen, to working with doctors who make do without all the advanced technology we rely on in the US. I showed up for my first day at the clinic full of curiosity and ready for action. The 36 hours prior hadn't been kind to Rahul and me--digestive derailment had struck with a vengeance--but we'd turned the corner and were on the mend. When asked by my two fellow medical students how I was feeling on our way in to see the first patient, I'd answered honestly, "Oh, I'm fine now."
And then five minutes into the first patient examination, I passed out. I remember feeling a little funny and saying, "Matthew, Alison, I'm kinda dizzy. Uh, actually I can't see you guys anymore." Then suddenly I awoke to 20 brown faces I'd never seen before staring down at me from a tight huddle. "I think I passed out!," I said helpfully and incredulously from the floor.
Matthew and Alison then told me the glorious story of the seconds that had just passed. Immediately upon announcing my inability to see, I had performed an elegant eyes-rolling-back, knees-bucking, keeling-over routine. I swooned into the capable arms of Matthew, the 200-pound stolid Army doc who caught me on my way down, easing me to the floor. Supine and unconscious, I then delighted patients, doctors and nurses alike with a spastic arm and leg dance, my eyes obscenely wide open throughout. And then came the kicker. I pooped on myself. Not wanting to be left out of the fun, my intestines did some spasming of their own during my 15 seconds of vulnerability. Oh the betrayal! So there I was, 5 minutes into my new stint as a visiting medical student in India, lying on the floor in a white coat that was most certainly no longer white.
Ironically, the tainted goods behind this debacle turned out to be a lowly bag of raisins we had eaten with the hope of getting the old bowels moving after 3 days of unwanted inactivity. And therein lies the essence of the Indian travel experience: all extremes, nothing in the middle. You poop too much, you poop too little. You remember the days back home when pooping was so routine that you scarcely gave it a passing thought. You also remember a time, not so long ago really, when you couldn't say the word "diarrhea" aloud without squirming, forget memorializing your colonic catastrophes on the web for all eternity. Ah, India.
-meg
posted by Meghul at 5:51 AM
5 Comments:
Meg, might I suggest that your self-defacation (MUCH cooler than self-deprication!) is cosmic punishment for mocking my healthy vegetable-fueled digestive processes? I hope the GI tracts settle down a bit.
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Great story Meg, that beats my experience of vomiting next to the clinic in Mali in front of a line of people waiting to be seen (some by me, mind you) during the summer after first year. Good work!
Meg, You didn't mention that you got a lovely new salwar kameez (typical Indian flowy dress over pajama pants) out of the ordeal! But perhaps no one wanted it back, given the circumstances under which it was loaned to you. Really the best part was the total lack of surprise on the part of the attending. He didn't miss a beat! Just speedily ordered up a change of clothes, a ride home, and prescriptions for little Meg, then went right on seeing patients. Indian doctors...they've seen it all.
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