Nil by mouth - how the Taj Mahal Hotel probably saved my life

5-8 October 2013

We had the most fabulous evening at the Taj, and I took full advantage of everything it had to offer... including the inside of the loo.

After our meal, I started to feel a little bloated and then it got worse and more painful. I had pain in my back, my shoulders, my belly. Every bit of my torso was racked with pain, and there was nothing I could do to ease it or get comfortable.

By about midnight, to add insult to injury (quite literally), I started being sick. Oh great... the only person unlucky enough to get food poisoning in a 5-star luxury hotel restaurant! What are the chances? Slim, it turns out...

After being stubborn and too embarrassed to call the doc for a bad bout of trapped wind, I sucked up the pain and decided to ride it out.

At about 5am, it was obvious that we wouldn't be on the train to Goa.

At around 8 Jamie (who also had zero sleep after being subject to non-stop puking and moans n groans) left to re-book the train for the following evening. The food poisoning will have gone by then, we both thought.

The hotel kindly allowed us a late check-out of 5pm - I joked that I'd do anything to make the most of our one night of luxury.

The day followed the same suit as the night and at check-out time I decided seeing a doctor would probably be sensible before such a long trip.

By the time we were at reception, I couldn't stand the pain anymore and embarrassingly the tears began to flow.

The Taj phoned their on-call doctor who visited me in the room.

She was surprised at the symptoms, thought it must be some kind of bacterial infection, ordered some pills and gave me a couple of jabs in the butt. One for pain, one for anti-nausea.

She told us we had to go for a sonography to rule out any other possibilities, so we got in a cab and made it in time for the scan which revealed all.

Gallstones. Big ones. Trapped in the entry tube to the gallbladder. Nasty.

Back at the hotel, we informed the doctor who promptly made arrangements for hospitalisation and an ambulance. The pain relief hadn't touched the agony and now we were getting ushered out the back entrance of the Taj and pulled into what I can only describe as a hired ambulance run by two fellas who had nil medical experience.

The hotel sent a concierge to escort us and assist as a translator and no-nonsense tough guy to ensure we got the best possible care. They really were amazing. After being driven into ER in absolute error we managed to explain that we didn’t require their services as the hotel doctor had booked us a room and a surgeon already and everything was in hand.

In our room with a view, there was a sofa bed for Jamie and a regular hospital bed for me. Room 602 was far away from the building site hospital below and was immaculately clean. Jamie had researched and it was Mumbai's best... We were actually told only to go to the public hospital as tourists - ouch.

Promptly came questions, pokes, prods, needles, tubes, drips and finally pain relief that actually relieved.

I managed to sleep through the night happy and content that I was in more than capable hands... Suzie gets a bit hazy from here so I’ll take over...

In the morning nothing had changed and I was increasingly worried for her. We got a second opinion with another sonography that confirmed the prognosis (that’s right... prognosis), she also had to have a CT scan just to make sure. I was just happy that they were checking everything, but it was difficult as she was getting pulled and poked and it was clearly hurting her.

After what seemed like hours, the doctor came into our room.

Suzie was going to have an operation, that night, it was a Sunday but they were going to fly in the best surgeon they could, and as soon as he got off the plane, they'd prep her for theatre. Suzie just wanted the pain to stop and was happy, but I was a little worried. I knew we were in the best hands and I knew it was the best course of action, but I just couldn’t help it, with all the worst-case scenarios running through my head I couldn’t eat or sleep.

The time finally came, around 8:30pm, she was prepped, blood taken, ECGs completed, fit for surgery she was taken on a bed down to the second floor.

I said goodbye and held back the tears (on my end, Suze was fine) and went to get some dinner. I hadn’t eaten all day, and the previous day all I’d had was a cheese toasty... (three pieces of bread, one piece of cheese - why would you even think that was okay!?) anyway, I ordered the lukewarm thali, it was okay, and fine for sustenance but, inevitably, with the combination of lack of food previously and bad hygiene on their part, the food started to stir in my belly.

I walked briskly to the lift and pressed the 6th floor button, as I opened the lift meters away from the door and the toilet, the nurse grabbed me and said...

"The doctor is looking for you, on floor two, where have you been?"

I rushed to the second floor, looked in the waiting area and outside the theatre, finally a nurse comes out and says that Suze hasn’t gone in yet and I should wait with her.

As much as I wanted to be with Suze at her time of need, I was very very close to shitting myself. I didn’t want her to have to worry about my bowels so I didn’t let on, I asked her why she wasn’t in yet and she said the surgeon was going to be another 25 mins, he called from the airport.

"25 minutes?? Do you mind if I nip off to the toilet?"

"Not at all," she smiled calmly.

I asked the nurse for the nearest toilet, and she told me the ground floor, too far I thought... She either took pity on me because she saw the desperation in my eyes, or she thought I didn’t want to be too far from Suze so close to her going in... either way, she opened the nearest broom cupboard to what I think was the janitor’s toilet.

I sat down and unleashed, it was pretty horrendous and hurried as I didn’t want Suze to go in without being able to say bye (again).

I looked round for the toilet paper, and in my horror found none, frantic searching did me no favours. So I did what I had to do. I used my hand. In what I guess was a twist of luck the rusty water lacked the viscosity to cling to my hands and I washed and scrubbed with anything I could find to get myself clean.

Finally happy that I was properly sanitised, I walked out of the toilet to find two doctors asking me where I had been. In the 5 minutes of the drama, the surgeon had arrived and wanted to meet me to explain the procedure. Standing in the long hallway, walking at a pace that suggested he was in no mood for small talk, the spitting image of Frank Passos greeted me with an extended hand...

Fear gripped me but autopilot had taken hold... I was shaking hands with the man who was about to perform surgery on my better half, with a hand that had just 3 minutes prior been running under boiling hot water lathered to the max, hiding the secrets I'm now sharing with you.

Frank, as I will call him from now on, was clearly a very bright man, he spoke with a thick Portuguese accent (no word of a lie) and explained in simple and confident terms what he was going to do, and that everything was going to be fine.

Two long hours later, after staring at the waiting room wall, I was summoned again to meet Frank.

Everything was fine, Suzie did well and they were putting her back together and bringing her round. He also delightfully pointed to a kidney dish containing her gall bladder and asked me if I wanted to take a photo. I did, however, I’d run out of battery, he shrugged, took out his camera phone and snapped a shot before handing me the pot of absolutely massive gall stones.

They love hospital souvenirs in India, they also gave me a DVD of the surgery. When I inquired into why I would ever need a DVD of Suzie’s surgery they seemed shocked I would even ask, and couldn’t or wouldn’t understand the question.

Suzie was well, it took her a while to come round, and I was so happy she was okay I had to tell someone, with no internet the only number I had that I thought would be answered was to her brother Chris, I explained in a text what had happened and that she was fine and that we would try to call soon.

The text message that I got back read as follows...

"Hi, I’m not sure who Chris is, you have the wrong number, I hope Suzie gets better."

After two days of care, and small walks Suzie is up and about although slowly, she is eating solid food and has been discharged from hospital, it will be a full month till she’s completely better but she’s making amazing progress.

We’re flying to Goa on Thursday to meet some of our nearest and dearest, and with the stitches coming out on Monday or Tuesday, we should be able to make full use of the beach and the sea.

You can leave any messages for Suze under this blog, just click the little cross in the grey circle.

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