I sat in the shade-darkened hospital room listening to the quiet hum and slow ticking of the IV pump as it fed the vein in my wife’s wrist. In less than two hours, she’d be in surgery. But now, for the first time in weeks, we’re resting.
Our friend, Lynette, sleeps curled at the other end of the couch where I sit, exhausted from the 12-hour ambulance ride from Chiang Rai to Bangkok. Impossibly, I managed to sleep straight through 11 of those hours, the margins of my dreams only loosely tugged by the quiet chatter of the Thai nurses, the rhythm of the rain, and the motion of the van. Relief. I think I was just relieved to have Heather on the way to quality care after eight days battling the language barrier, battling the insurance company, battling boredom and stir-craziness and the helpless feeling a husband gets when watching his wife in pain. Besides, I realized as I drifted off to sleep, it was the first time I’d sat in an actual cushioned seat in over a week. Yes, I was sitting upright, my head unsupported, covered by one of the large white towels Overbook Hospital insists on calling blankets, but we were on our way, Heather was going to be OK, and my heart was at peace. So I slept.
The last two weeks have been crazy. When Heather and I were preparing to move to Thailand, we often joked with our parents and other concerned friends about the availability of quality health care in Thailand should one of us need medical attention, never actually expecting one of us would end up needing spine surgery here. (Although recently, Heather admitted she secretly thought I’d be hospitalized in a motorbike accident. Thanks, honey.) We chose a more expensive health insurance plan with a $5,000 deductible per person instead of $10,000, never actually believing we’d need to file a claim that even remotely approached that figure. We chose an international insurance company, never imagining everyone on their staff would be sleeping in the Central time zone while we tried to navigate an emergency on the other side of the world, or that they’d effectively delay treatment for days before deciding not to help us after all.
But through it all, our friends and family have been an incredible source of support, even though most of them are oceans away. And our God has been faithful to provide what we’ve needed. Our friend and neighbor, Lynette, is an American RN who’s fluent in Thai. Heather was able to transfer to world-renowned Bumrungrad International Hospital to receive surgery from one of SE Asia’s best Orthopedic spine surgeons. And, compared to America, top-notch medical care in Thailand is relatively affordable, so even with insurance playing dirty, we’re on the hook for tens of thousands of dollars–not hundreds of thousands–like we would be at home. Plus, we work for an organization and live in an environment that provides ample room for Heather to recover at her own pace. We really can’t complain.
As I write, Heather is in surgery, and I’m left with nothing to do but wait and pray for the one I love. Right now “rest” eludes me, but I’m confident she’s in good hands. Soon, she’ll be free from pain and she, too, can rest…recover…and return to life. I can’t wait to have her back.
Posted by: collettostories
Category: Thailand
Tags: ambulance, Bangkok, Bumrungrad International Hospital, discectomy, Heather Colletto, herniated disc, hospital, insurance, Overbrook, rest, ruptured disc, spine surgery, surgery, waiting
