Maybe it’s the days on the dirty dusty roads in Delhi or my cold or the high altitude in the himalayas or a combination of it all, but my lungs just couldn’t take much more and went crazy again. So I ended up in a tibetan hospital. Just try and imagine a “hospital” where all the nurses are beautifully dressed in their traditional tibetan dresses and their long black hair in braids, the interns are young cool guys in converse, monks are running around the whole place (some of them in prayer) and there in a little room, there’s me in a wheelchair and a air-thing attached to my mouth. It’s a very small room, but there was no problem squeezing in another guy in the single room. The nurses open the lock of a pot (yes, a cooking pot) where she kept all her cotton supplies and in walks a dog. So me, a man in pain, a doctor, three nurses and two interns plus my sister and the dog on these tiny 2*2 square meters : ) And still it was better than any other hospital I’ve been too in the west.
Tibetan Hospital
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