Service Overload

Anyone who's ever been to India will know that the service levels here vary wildly - there's over attentive in any store you walk in, to the point that the assistant is a hair's breadth behind you and it becomes a game to swing round quickly and stare them right in the face, asking them 'what do they want.'  And then there's the service you really need, like when something's broken at home, needs replacing or refilling, then usually, there's no-one to be seen for hours.  Days.  Weeks.  Hospital in-patient service here is like the former, although they can't actually get into bed with you, the staff spends as much time as possible in your room, through waking and sleeping hours.  Now, this is probably a good thing, I hear you say, given that the health service in supposed fully-developed countries is crumbling and people are dying versus receiving life-saving operations.  I agree wholeheartedly.  The healthcare here has been second to none.  From the ER to admission to OR and discharge, everything went smoothly and quickly - both words not characteristically associated with India.  However, the line has to be drawn somewhere.  And I draw it at the 5:15am bucket bath.  As I lay helplessly hooked up to the IV the first day post-op, the over-zealous nurse arrived around 5:15am to change the drip and inquired, "would you like your bath now?"  NOW?  It's not even dawn!  Why would I want to bathe pre-dawn?  With a stranger?  Don't answer that.  I said no, later.  "6am?"  WHY??  My negotiating instinct kicked in - yes, even at that time.  I would bathe at 6am in exchange for a cup of tea.  "No, not until doctor has done his rounds."  What time is that?  "9am."  Well, I figure I'll bathe at 9am then too.  That didn't go down well.  I think we settled at a time around 6:30am.  And no tea was forthcoming for another 24 hours.  The next day was different.  Nurse arrived at 6am and I feigned sleep.  A deep sleep.  Complete with eye mask and a little snoring.  The nurses were very similar to the stewardesses on planes who will wake you out of a near coma to offer you some tasteless snacks and a cup of tea.  Or, as I experienced on a BA flight to Heathrow, the first-time flyer next to you who wakes you to tell you they are bringing tea around.  Or some headphones.  Or a menu.  Or a snack.  Or a visa form.  It might be a treat for you, lady, but the last thing I need is waking up every time a stewardess comes around on an 11 hour flight!  Anyway, as I say, I got away with the early bath on day two.  And bathed myself, with a little help from hubby, at a more reasonable hour of 8am.  Aside from the enforced early baths, the service was second to none and I doubt that I would have received better care anywhere else in the world.  And all for the bargain price of $4,000.  You wouldn't even get the bath for that in the US!