Lies and arses

So this morning started off with a rush to get ready for work as we overslept (for Simone's schedule, not for mine).... quick shower.... quick hairwash.. get dressed.... out the door... 0655.  I decided it was best to go to work and check my e mails rather than take Simone, come home and go back half an hour later.
5 minutes after arriving I received a message from Simone.  The patient wasn't ready to have their chest closed, so he wanted coffee.  We met in the canteen and had a coffee then left the canteen and went our separate ways.....

So hopefully you've been following the blog, and you are aware of this whole "have you had breakfast?" "what did you have for breakfast" conversation that ensues every single morning....  As I have said previously my lies are becoming more and more elaborate.... some days I have toast, other days fruit, other days cereal and other days eggs... I'm fast running out of 'breakfast' items.  BUT I hate eating breakfast, I NEVER eat breakfast, and neither does Simone, hence the lies.

Well today, it went to a whole new level.  After Simone and I went our separate ways.... I was in the lift and received this message

So now we are having to give each other the heads up on what we have supposedly eaten..... otherwise our lies are going to be discovered.  Lucky Simone had text me, cause I was in cath lab and one of the sisters said
"you had breakfast?"
"yes I have"
"what did you have"
And up pipes Pradeep...."I know what she had, she had bread with jam"
Now if Simone had not told me that he'd seen him, my reaction would have been "no I didn't, I had scrambled eggs"  but thankfully my response was "how on earth do you know?"
People say we will 'discover ourselves' in India..... I can tell you now that I am fast 'discovering' that Simone and I are great liers :)  about bloody breakfast and lunch..  This is what our lives have become.

I missed lunch with Simone today, as we were mid-case in cath lab and he was between cases in theatre, so he went alone.  I told him I wouldn't make it in time as he had only 20 mins.  After our case finished we transferred the patient up to CICU.  As we were heading for the doors, I could see someone white, in doctor scrubs heading towards us... 'must be Simone' I thought... and sure enough it was... He didn't stop and neither did I but in passing I realised he was holding up his scrub trousers.. and he looked harassed...
"They've broken" he said in passing..
The realisation dawned on me a few seconds later.... the drawstring had broken on the trousers........... and with that I could not stop giggling to myself... All I could imagine was his scrub trousers falling down in theatre mid-surgery... and all the lovely scrub nurses (who are fascinated by him because he's white) got a birds-eye view of his white arse......
I'm sure this is not how it happened... but it made me laugh anyway.... I am still to find out the whole story of how exactly this drama unfolded as he is still in work... perhaps with a very red-face..


And finally I'll tell you a conversation that Simone and I had a few days ago...
So the sanitary system here in India is not the best, I have to say.  The toilets are mostly as they are in the UK, but NONE of them have toilet roll..... So whereby in UK I never left the house without my lipstick, in India, I never leave the house without toilet roll.....
At the side of every toilet is what I can only describe as a 'shower head'.... and quite often you go in to a toilet cubicle and the whole floor is completely wet... Now those of you with any sense will probably understand how the Indians wipe their arses....... right?
"There is never any toilet roll in the toilet, it's so annoying"  Simone
"Of course there isn't, they don't use toilet roll" Lou
"Of course they use toilet roll, how else would they wipe their arses?" Simone
"What do you think the shower head at the side of EVERY toilet is for?"  Lou
"THAT'S instead of a toilet brush.... they use water to clean the toilet" Simone
"And why is there no toilet roll?"
"I assumed that they don't poo in public toilets, they wait until they're at home"
So in a country with limited sanitation where dysentery and other diarrhoea inducing diseases are rife, Simone thinks they only poo in the comfort of their own home....
"No No NO they DO NOT use that shower head to clean their bums".....
And so, he wouldn't believe me, we had to resort to google to understand whether the shower head is an alternative to a toilet brush....

Ciao for now.... xxx

Our one day weekend

Well it's the middle of another week here in Bangalore so I thought I'd fill you in with the latest update.

So the weekend just gone was the first weekend that Simone wasn't on-call either saturday or sunday... hurrah.  Of course we were both in work on saturday-that goes without saying, but saturday night and sunday off.... bliss.

On friday Simone told me he was taking me away on saturday after work and so I was to pack a bag that included swimwear.... At this point I knew it was gonna be a great weekend.  So on saturday I went on to work..... hallelujah NO CASES in the cath lab and NO CASES in Simone's theatre..... so we finished work at 10 am... not bad really.

It is so strange as well how you just get used to whatever you have to do.  At first I was SO horrified at the thought of having only one day a week off, but mentally you have to adjust, and now a friday is like any other day midweek.....
Having said this.... I am well aware that in the UK the weekend consists of 2 whole days, so don't be getting any silly ideas that I might work saturdays/more than 3 days a week when we (hopefully) come back to the UK...  Mentally, I could not adjust to that.

Back to the weekend........

So Simone told me we were heading to a 5* spa hotel in central Bangalore for the night.  :)

"Shall we take a cab there"  Asks Simone
"No no we can take the bus" I replied..... after all we take the bus all the time in to Bangalore, and despite Simone's extravagance at the planned weekend, we do actually earn an Indian wage- nothing, so I felt there was no need to take a cab there.......... Oh how I regretted this dearly.........

So we boarded the bus and took a pew.  We were sat on the right hand side of the bus.... I have no idea why, because I ALWAYS sit on the left hand side, but someone must have been looking down on me...

Anyways, about 15 minutes in to our journey (which would take around one hour) the bus conductor was looking behind us, and so was everyone else
'Oh my God there's a snake' was all I could think..... 'why on Earth is everyone looking back there'
Ah ok, we then realised...... a lady had been sick and it was running down the bus (on the left hand side).  But it was just like water, wasn't offensive smelling or anything.
So someone she was with removed their outer shirt and cleaned it up, and the lady moved and sat near to the door, on the floor.
The bus conductors face was a picture, I wish I could describe it to you, but I really can't.
So we carry on and the lady is sat by the door, with her husband.
About 15 minutes later she starts again..... but don't worry, she has a newspaper, and so is vomitting in to that.... next stop... doors open..... out goes the newspaper.... sorted.
At this point her husband isn't looking too great.  5 minutes later.......... REALLY loud retching noises.... her husband AND her are being sick all over the mat by the door.....
'oh God I feel sick'
"Think of something else" says Simone
yeah..... that's easy done.
Well I can tell you now that I will NEVER again in my life eat a chicken korma from Zeera in Mile End.... cause that is EXACTLY what she threw up all over the bus..... illuminous yellow.
"Well that's what you get when you eat shit for breakfast" was the very wise comment that came from Simone.... and it's true.  They think we are strange because we eat toast (btw my lies are becoming more embellished- I now often eat scrambled eggs for breakfast).  THEY are strange for eating spicy shite first thing in the morning.... and then relieving themselves of it on the bloody bus.  FFS.
Well they had had their chance, the bus conductor literally kicked them off the bus.... and we carried on, to our destination, looking at their breakfast....
All I could think of was my friend Karen Cross, who often refers to the late train home as 'the vomit comit'...... well I can tell you Karen Cross, I have ridden on the true vomit comit.... and it's not nice.

So our fabulous weekend got off to a shaky start, but eventually it was a lovely as expected.  We lay out by the pool all day sunday and I really felt like I was a million miles away from my life on a faraway holiday... but I was only up the road.. Oh the joys of living in a hot country :)

Apart from that I have little else to report.

Except, last night we ate pasta.... with tomato juice... and I'll give him his dues... it tasted like passata.......... FINALLY.  Although he did say as he was cooking it
"It's really runny"
"It's tomato juice- of course it's runny" ffs
I told him to add some ketchup to it, make it thicker.  He didn't.
Anyways, it's not authentic, but it'll do for now.....

Oh and one more thing I really really really miss yoga  :(  If there's one thing I could take from London and bring it here, it would be my yoga class.

Namaste

Meat, and the elusive passata strikes again... maybe

Well it has been a while since I posted the blog, so what can I tell you...

We have a washing machine... yipppeeeee... clean clothes.  Simone managed to shame our Landlord in to buying one for us, much to my embarrassment, but hey, if you don't ask (or rather give them a sob story of full-time work and having to live like it's the 1920's) then I suppose you don't get... I'm just not as cheeky as him.

So now we have our car, it is so much easier to move about, and I don't have to face the big walk to work every morning, which is great, because now it is starting to get very warm, even when it's dark, so I dread to think what the height of summer will bring.  And FYI the balaclavas have gone now... this morning I saw people just wrapped in blankets.... progress.

So we have had the car exactly one week now.  We drive it to and from work and that's all.  When we bought it, it was clean, shiny and sparkly.... Just to give you some idea of the pollution and dust here.....

......... anyone wanna donate me a lung for when I get back to UK??????

I thought I was going to have to pay my dad to come here and clean it for us....  then BINGO.... only a few hours ago a lovely gentleman knocked on the door.  He asked Simone if he wanted him to clean our car for us
"YES YES YES PLEASE"  I shouted from the kitchen
"How much?"  Asks Simone
"300 rupees sir"( £4)
hmmmmm that sounds expensive to me.......  I'm thinking...
"I will come every morning at 6, and clean it.  300 Rupees....... for the month"
RESULT.
My Dad will be happy.  He will be    H O R R I F I E D    to see the picture above.. but don't worry Daddy, my car will be cleaner than yours..... hahahahahaha it'll be cleaned EVERY DAY, beat that.

Work is ok.  Simone's boss is a very big, imposing Indian man with a very English name (Colin) and a very good sense of humour.  I think he is not the typical Indian guy and he eats a lot of meat (including beef).  As we have really stayed away from the meat since arriving here, Simone is having withdrawal symptoms and decided to ask his boss where he buys his meat..... FYI I knew NOTHING about this.
So I was on CICU the other day and Dr.Colin comes chasing after me.... baring in mind the Dr/nurse relationship here is ZERO, they barely look at the nurses....
"Louise Louise"
I turned around to be greeted my Dr. Colin
"Hi Sir"  heheheheheh yes even I can be polite to the doctors here.... I feel I have to be...
And with a big smile on his face, he leans in very close.... with all the other nurses looking and probably thinking 'why's he talking to her and not us'.... and says
"I hear you want some meat"  in a very low tone
"Excuse me?" as I nearly choked on my chewing gum
"hehehe I hear you want some meat.... beef.  How much do you want?"
"Erm..... ahh.... uuuummmmmm"
"You like it diced?  It comes diced"
GET ME OUT OF HERE..........
I was trying so hard to keep a straight face, be all respectful and that but SERIOUSLY.... This VERY well respected surgeon in India is asking me if I want meat... and how I like it....
Needless to say, Simone thought this whole escapade was hilarious.  And now whenever I see Sir Dr. Colin all I can think about is beef.
And just so you know... Dr.Colin's PA organised with his driver, and now we have beef... lots of it.. and it's not diced.  And apparently we organise with the driver and he gets us good cuts of meat whenever we want... imported from Australia I think... hurrah protein :))))))

The other day we had to take a trip to one of the big malls to take Simone's macbook to the doctors.  Unfortunately (or not-depending on your viewpoint) the cost of repairing the macbook amounted to such a cost that Simone decided (surprise surprise) that it was more economical to buy a new one; as we had 'happened' to venture in to an apple retailer earlier in our trip and 'discovered' that they are actually a few hundred pounds cheaper to buy them here...... So I now have a very happy Simone with a brand-spanking new macbook pro... BUT he is also going to fix the old one himself (DIY job) so, we will (and actually already do) have more apple products in our house than we have limbs between us.  NOT THAT I'M COMPLAINING.... I love my I phone 4 and macbook air that he bought for me  :)

So yesterday we went in to Bangalore to buy the said computer and we went to a place called UB city..  We walked in and I was in Heaven.  SO many nice shops, restaurants and bars.  We had some beers in a bar, then went for food to a really nice Italian restaurant- and even Simone said the pizza was good, so it can't have been bad.  Definitely going there to celebrate my 30th birthday... With Jody O'Connor :))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))  yippppeeeeeeeeeee I am now actually looking forward to turning 30...... Ok, maybe that is pushing it, but at least we have somewhere fabulous to celebrate it.

Oh and just to keep you updated... Simone's search for the elusive passata continues.  Today he has come home with this......

One question.............

      Would you let this man operate on your child's heart?

Namaste

Am I still in London????

I am on call again..... it s a strange thing that everywhere in the world you go, it could be Italy, UK, US China, Australia or India, you find the same attitude on certain things. As you arrive you are too new to do what they employed you for, but experienced enough to help them to keep the "machine " going.

 I l try to be more clear:

We ve just moved from UK. We are brand new in this place and, as already written, we are the only "white" people in the hospital. This is supposed to be the biggest Paediatric Cardiac centre in the world according to number of cases perfomed per year (2500 -ish, compared to Boston: 1100 ish and GOSH 700 ish) but they haven t got enough people to cope both in theatre and with oncalls. In theatre the senior surgeons perform all type of cases assisted only by scrub nurses. I am new so they would like to see how I am before allowing me to do anything. Fair enough, it happens everywhere, and to be fair, if I were in their shoes I 'd do the same. So it s been 3 weeks so far and yesterday the boss of the unit let em close the first chest. Good, big step. He told me that of course it will take time and that he knows the I have 8 years of experience, but as he has 40 he knows that better than me (.......?!?!). No Problemo.
BUT, exactly as everywhere else,  what about oncalls????? well, on day 3 I had my first oncall!!!!! I haven t got my badge yet that the boss said." yes, you know, Simone" the boss said " there is shortage of people and in this way you can help us. Is that OK?"......" yeah sure...No problemo".
So here I am, on call, because I can do oncall in a new place dealing with nurses who DO NOT speak english and laugh whenver I say anything.
Maily I am attached to the boss, but sometimes I cover other younger surgeons who let me do more things but without telling the boss..........

Luckily I spend 90 % of my time in theatre, it is fresh air for a surgeon. I scrub on average for 14-16 cases a week ( and I have done 2 cases already....but without telling the boss). And during  all this time in theatre, you get in contact with the other theatre "animals": anaesthetist and nurses. As I ve already wrote, anaesthetists are blue and nurses in theatre are light blue. the scrub nurses are not trained nurses but technicians. They haven t got a nursing degree. And, as everywhere, they have a hierarchical structure, with senior nurses and junior ones. They are not very tall and the have the same height. They speak very fast with high pitch voice. They are lovely, always telling me : "is it ok, Sir?" or " can I unscrub, Sir?". if you want to imagine how they speak ....well imagine the Chipmunks!!!!!!! Alvin et Co. That s how I call them...the Chipmunks. When I told Louise she said I was rude. But then she came to theatre with me and she couldn t agree more!!!!!

The language is still a big problem, for us, but also for them because not all of them speak English. The interesting thing is that they come from different parts of India where they speak their own language. Who comes from Mumbai/Bombay speaks Marathi that is different from Kannada ( spoken in Bangalore). They SHOULD speak Hindi, but apparently they don t, so English is the way to go.


As I was telling before, no metter where you are in the world, you will find that there are thing completely different and others that are exactly the same.


Been in theatre is one of the biggest differences I have found (workwise) . Nurses are not trained well (but some of them are unexpectly bery bery good) and when you ask a suture they turn their back to you as if they are looking for the desired one......then the Chipmunks concert begins.......30 sec later ....silence. And you ask: "and the suture?" and they give you a garze. ....ehehehehe it s really comedy!!!!!! 

Going out on Saturday night in a big city as Bangalore makes you feel like you have never left London.
We went at the Hard Rock Cafe....ok ok the idea of globalisation!!!.....anyway if it wasn t for the indian accent of 90 % of the people in there it d have seemed to be in London or NYC or Bangkok. Same music, same amount of people having great time wearing jeans rather than sari.etc etc.




Now I leave because I have nothing else to say

New wheels

We bought a car... hurrah, no more walking 6km a day to work and back :)

We actually had the car delivered yesterday but as Simone was on call it stayed at the hospital and I had a lift home with my driver.....  well actually our Landlords driver but I like to think he's mine too.

I was all tucked up and ready for bed last night when Simone called to say he was outside the house with our new car... I was so happy he had come home to see me..
"Yay I'm so happy you came home to see me"
"Yeah I just got out of theatre and I'm starvin, nowhere is open at this time to get food"
"Ah ok..... I'll get cooking then..."

So I walked to work this morning for the last time... this car could possibly have saved my life.  I have grown tolerate a lot of things since arriving in India.... But the sniffing, hacking back and spitting of the phlegm at 0700am still makes me heave every morning..

I met Simone in the afternoon at work today and I knew I only had a couple of cases left in cath lab, therefore would be finished around 4 ish.  At 3pm, Simone was going to theatre to start a fallot.... Ok at least 4 hours... So he gave me the car key to drive home when I finished.

One problem.... I got in and the petrol gauge was on empty.  Damn.  I had 2 choices:
1)  Drive home anyway and hope for the best and get petrol later when I picked Simone up (but knowing me, would probably run out of petrol in the middle of the road, 2km from home and have to push it....  I think I get stared at enough already)
2)  Go to the petrol station and fill up (which I HATE doing in the UK, let alone in India, on my own.)

I decided to brave it and headed for the petrol station....

So I drive in and realised I had no idea which side the cap was on.  Luckily there are guys who fill up for you, so I wound down the window and asked him which side it was on.  Of course it was on the opposite side to what I thought.  So I moved.

I got out of the car and the gentleman looks at me
"You need to open the cap for me"
"Erm...."
"It's inside"
"Erm..................."
"I show you ma'am"
So he takes me on a tour of my own car to show me how to open the petrol cap. Mortified.

"Petrol or diesel ma'am?"
Oh FFS who knew going to get petrol was such a bloody drama...
"Erm...... PETROL"
"Are you sure Ma'am?" as the WHOLE petrol station full of men is looking at me. M O R T I F I E D.
I couldn't help myself, I burst out laughing, looked at everyone and said "hahahahaha can you tell this is a new car?"
So he sniffs the cap and informs me that it is indeed petrol.
"Are you from America Ma'am?"


I have never been so happy to be asked if I'm from America... At least they might still hold out some hope that British girls know their cars...  

Jody will be so ashamed of me to read this...

The good news is that the car has blacked out windows, so NO-ONE stares at me..
The bad news is that the indicators are on the opposite side to my car in the UK, so I put my windscreen wipers on at least 4 times today.... which probably looks quite ridiculous in India where it hasn't rained in 8 months.... Praise the Lord for blacked-out windows....