Tim Roxborogh's travel bugs: On hospital woes in India

Photo / Getty Images

Tim Roxborogh on the joys of moaning about your holiday.

Taking my sick friend to the "medium" hospital in India

It's quite the dilemma: your mate of 20-years is semi-passed out in a hotel room in the south of India with a raging fever and intermittent hallucinations. You've made the call to rush him to hospital and your local guide gives you an unexpected multi-choice: "Do you want the cheap hospital, the medium hospital or the expensive hospital?"

To which the obvious response – at least in my mind – was to ask two questions: how expensive the "expensive" hospital was and how far we were from each of the hospitals. Distance-wise, they were all pretty much the same. As for cost, our guide responded by saying, "I don't really know. It's very expensive for locals but maybe not for you".

Fearing the expensive hospital may be verrrrry expensive, while also aware the cheap hospital could redefine my ideas of what constitutes "dire" and "kill me now", I made the call: we were to get to the medium hospital and with great haste too!

And that we did, at least as much as you can through the clogged streets of pretty much any Indian city, in this case Kochi in the state of Kerala. And let me point out that Kochi, in particular the area known as Fort Kochi, is one of my favourite parts of India. Terrific historic architecture, sensational boutique hotels, excellent cuisine and close to lush, postcard-perfect waterways.

But I'm afraid to say, as delightful as Kochi truly is, that "medium" hospital was not. Indeed, in terms of cleanliness, if that was the "medium", I feared for what the "cheap" must be like. Speaking of fear, I was also genuinely terrified for my mate's life. In a matter of hours he'd gone from feeling a bit nauseous to barely able to move nor speak.

With assistance from our guide and another member of our tour group, we somehow managed to get him inside the hospital. It was my job to explain the symptoms, as well as to pay for any treatments along the way. I couldn't believe I'd chosen "medium".

Thankfully, a private room was available, complete with an ensuite that, if judged on looks and odour alone, would almost certainly have had a medically liberal interpretation of the term "sterile". We sat in worried silence as my mate lay mostly motionless, tubes inserted into his arms.

Tests were done, medicines were swallowed and injected, and the hours slowly passed. Each new round of treatment required me to go and hand over some cash as this was very much pay-as-you-go care. I was beyond tired and of course, my primary concern was my buddy's health, but wow, it sure seemed like the rupees were adding up.

I asked a nurse if my mate would be okay. First she said, "pardon?" And then when I repeated the question, she laughed in my face. "Hahahahaha! Of course he will!"

It was the most gratefully received moment of being patronised in my entire life. She was right. After about four or five hours, suddenly the patient awoke; spectacularly so too. In an instant he was totally alert, cracking jokes and claiming to have never felt better. We even posed for jokey photos in the hospital.

According to the doctor, it was just an extreme case of dehydration in the tropical heat, combined with ingesting dirty water. It was another reminder not just to drink bottled water in India, but to stick to trusted water brands while also making sure the lid doesn't pop off too easily. If it does, chances are it's tap water.

All bills paid, the total came to something in the vicinity of… wait for it… one hundred New Zealand dollars. Hang on, wasn't it going to be some crazy Give-A-Little-esque total? Guilt hit me: travel insurance surely would've covered things anyway. What kind of a friend takes his seemingly moribund best mate to the "medium" hospital when given the choice!?

Postscript: My mate has only one real recollection of this whole incident and it is of being annoyed when I awkwardly tried to offer him a comforting pat on the shoulder in the taxi on the way to the hospital. "Tim kept trying to pat me in the taxi!"

Tim Roxborogh hosts Newstalk ZB's Weekend Collective and blogs at RoxboroghReport.com