Appedectomy at Dalian 1 Hospital

What hospital isn’t busy. Stretchers flying everywhere, wheelchairs, bandages and crutches. After five hours of navigating between examinations, including ex-rays and a trip to gynecology, I received word that they were admitting me for the night... on appendix watch.
I sat down the other day and made a list of the top 20 stories of my week in the hospital and this, 'the one about the basin', is one of my favourites because it shows both these feelings of urgency and cluelessness that lurked in the atmosphere around me that week.
Once they decided to admit me, we were sent to pay some more bills and then to the hospital pajama pick-up station. People in line-ups everywhere. I sit down when I saw a seat become free and put my head in hands and let my schools Chinese secretary, who was helping me that day, push to the front counter about twenty feet away.
Ten minutes later I hear from across the crowd , “Alysha! Alysha! Alysha!” … I don’t respond. I am too tired. I can't even hold my head up. “Alysha! Alysha!” It appears as though I must. “Yes?” I yell. Silence. Then...“Do you NEED a BASIN?” A basin could mean so many things, I think to myself. I wonder what a hospital room in China looks like? What supplies will be there for me and what won’t? A basin could be for washing myself… maybe I won’t have a bathroom or sink. A basin could be her translation of a bedpan…. My thoughts are interrupted. She needs my answer as she is loosing her spot in line. “Alysha! Alysha!” Yes or no, I think. The thing was, I didn’t know. I didn’t know at all. Would it mean I want to be washed right now because I had a shower this morning. Will they still take my appendix out if I don't have it? That was basically when I stopped thinking. I had been doing this all day. I motioned with my hand to her, vaguely yes, vaguely no, and rested my head back into my hands. Basin or no basin just show me to a place where I can lie down. Silence again. Then... again I hear, “It costs five yaun!” Where is my wallet, I think. Should I give her the money? Does she want the money? What if I don't have it. Will I still get to lie down soon? That is the last thing I remember before being upstairs in my room, in my pajamas. Day finally over, save the appendix operation that would unexpectedly come later that night. Safe with a basin.

My basin and I parting after a week together on the eighth floor. It was a good decision to get it. It was very multi-purpose.