One Day, Three Hospitals

"You're going up north to the Waikato Hospital. All preemies cases go there -- and you're not allowed to be here in this hospital until you at least 34 weeks."

Argh! The great blessing of NZ healthcare is that it's basically free. The shitty thing is that it doesn't have quite the infrastructure and services of America, and because of this, I was now waiting for another ambulance to come and get me and take me another 3 hours north to the other hospital. Keep in mind, this will be a 4 1/2 hour drive from our home back in the bush. Not exactly convenient for Beau, especially since it was the last week of the school year. He had to turn around and go back to take care of stuff, like telling his job he wasn't going to finish out the week, finishing up some vital school reports, boarding the dog, cleaning stuff from the house (dirty dishes, laundry I'd need, etc.), and packing me a more realistic bag, including this laptop. We were repeatedly told that there was funding for this -- that because of our great distance to the hospital, there would be a hospital hotel for him to stay in for free and gas vouchers for the long drive.

So, with a nurse and incubator to accompany my ride, we drove off north to Hamilton. I was level with the windows and spent half the time gazing out of them and half the time snoozing. I wasn't really frightened, but certainly anxious. Basically, I had been told at the previous hospital, what I would continue to be told over the next few days:

We're pumping you with steroids for the baby's lungs, anti-labor pills to keep you from going into labor, frequently testing your blood sugar (I had been diagnosed with borderline gestational diabetes a little over a week before), taking out blood, and giving you scans and exams. And lots of antiobiotics, since infection is a serious and scary risk right now. But really, what you need to do is lay in this bed and do nothing for at least the next two weeks. At that point we'll probably ship you back to the previous hospital where they can deal with you.

Oh, and there's no TV in your room or WiFi for your laptop (which I didn't have yet anyway). Or privacy (you'll have 2 other roommates).

ARGH. Okay, I know, the biggest thing here is Jiffy Pop - the baby. And don't think I didn't know this and think of it constantly. I even had them put me on the monitor twice a day instead of once, just for reassurance that she was okay, since her reliably active and constant movements had greatly diminished. I'd pretty much walk through fire if they told me it'd help her come out healthy. But the thought of active, ADD-multi-tasking me somehow sitting in a narrow hospital bed for at LEAST two weeks doing nothing but reading magazines and trying to sleep the time away made my skin just fucking crawl. I knew in the end, obviously, I'd do it, but the thought of it made me inwardly freak out.

My two roommates turned out to be pretty cool. Both Maori women in their 20's with several previous pregnancies between them, they were both calm and friendly. They both had their water break too, but were sadly, about 5 weeks behind me in development. To make matters worse, one of them was carrying twins, who at this point were tiny. We chatted a lot, and I found out both women's previous pregnancies were preemies too, pregnancies that had not been fun or easy. I asked the twins' mother what she was having.

"A boy and a girl. And I'm really relieved, because my husband said if these were girls too, we'd try again since he really wants a boy to carry on his name."

!!!!

"Yeah, my husband was really glad this one's a boy," said the other woman, Putiputi, patting her stomach. "Still, I told him this was the last baby I want to have, that I'm done. (She's also had multiple miscarriages). He just said, 'Let's wait and see...I'd like more.'"

Both women shook their heads. "They don't get it," said the Twins' mother. "They don't understand what we go through."

Around this time I learned from the receptionist that my application for travel assistance for Beau had been rejected by the previous hospital (since they're the ones who sent me here, technically they are the ones who pay). I was shocked, and a bit pissed off. Why?

"Well, they said for one, you're not far enough away. You have to be at least 350km away. Secondly, they said they're broke and have no money for you anyway."

Technically, we're about 298km away from the hospital. It's a FOUR AND A HALF HOUR FUCKING DRIVE! Do I have to be in Australia and row over to qualify for this? Besides, since they were the ones who decided to send me here, they were supposed to be responsible for paying for it. How was I ever supposed to see Beau, for what could be anywhere from 2-7 weeks in this hospital, so far from home. I'd really go crazy. They told me the birth could still happen at any time, and if Beau was back home, could he make it in time? I'd really hate to have to do it alone. I needed him there.

This hung heavy over me until later when my doctor came to see me. A nurse accompanying her heard the story and blew up. "What? Who are they kidding!? They can't reject you! It's a national program, they don't have the power to refuse a national government program. Besides, none of us hospitals have money, we're broke too, you just have to pay it. That's how it works. That's why money is round, it just goes around and around from hospital to hospital."

She then basically instructed the doctor to turn to the application which was there in my file and sign it immediately so we could send it off and tell the other hospital to suck shit. The doctor obediently complied. I wanted to kiss this nurse. Hard.

"It's probably your accent," she sniffed, "They hear an accent and they think you're some foreigner trying to get money off of them. You're permanent residents, you're just as entitled to this reimbursement as any Kiwi is." About a half hour later she brought me a stamped envelope and said, "Tomorrow when you see the social worker about this, make sure she does her thing and then send this off immediately. Tell your husband to turn in his receipts at the end of the week at our desk and get his reimbursement."

Again, LOVING her.

This statement alarmed me a bit, not just because of the implied xenophobia or whatever, but because the hospitals in New Zealand are one of the most diverse enivornments I have ever experienced. Nearly every single nurse or doctor you see is from a different country. In the last 24 hours alone I've been seen by a Scot, a Malaysian, an Egyptian, an Indian woman, an Englishwoman, a South African, and oh yeah, some Kiwis too.

Anyway, back to my room. One bright light was that we had a TV with choppy reception and no *sigh* cable. I talked to my roommates a lot, I read magazines, watched TV, fumed over a Suduko book I'd bought, and I simply waited for Beau to turn up.

The timing of all this sucked for other reasons. One, was our car was up for its "warrant" which is a ridiculously stupid thing you have to do here every six months. You have to get the car checked out, top to bottom, from the engine to the brake lights, and if ONE tiny thing is wrong, they'll fail you, you can't get your new warrant, can't legally drive your car, and have to fix all repairs and have it re-checked again. Since this was our "new" car, we thought it'd sail through the check, but were shocked to find a list of tiddly shit that needed to be fixed - CAR FAIL. This all had to be done within 2 weeks or we'd have to start the process all over. Oh, and the tire we had bought to pass our LAST warrant just six months prior, was deemed unsafe for driving and had to be replaced and the wheels realigned. Tire Bastards. We had planned to have the car fixed on Wednesday and then travel to the next town on Saturday to get it all approved.

But all my shit went down on Tuesday. Nice timing, J.

So, after taking care of things back home, Beau had to make about 5 stops in 3 towns on his way to see me: get the car fixed, re-checked, and other stuff like dropping the dog off at the boarder, and get his fitting appointment for his new glasses, etc. Then come here to Hamilton, a fairly large city we are not at all familiar with, and navigate his way around here...