A night in a Chinese public hospital

As us French say: oh la la! I just got home from the most dreadful 24 hours of this pregnancy.
Saturday (yesterday), I got into a bit of an argument with hubby which, if I have to be completely honest, was prompted mostly by my raging hormones. But let's not tell him that.
Anyways, I got so upset that I started to have contractions every 30 to 90 seconds. As I have a very irritable womb, I just tried to calm down and see if it would go away. It didn't. After 4 hours of suffering, I had had enough and we headed to my OB's private clinic for monitoring. This time, the nurse was much nicer! But once again, I had to explain my entire history, with much details. I'm getting a bit fed up with the face people pull when they hear the twins' birth weight. Oh well.
After 10 minutes of monitoring, it was confirmed that I was indeed having small contractions every 30 seconds. Dr. G. ever so conservative, said he didn't want to take any chances. I thought that meant I would spend the night in his very luxurious clinic, in a nice private room. How wrong I was...

Within 15 minutes, he had informed the biggest public hospital in Hong Kong that has a NICU (neonatal care unit) that I was on my way AND booked an ambulance for me! I freaked out slightly, especially since I was hoping not to have to spend time in the hospital during this pregnancy. Also, I am quite traumatized from last year's experience. I hate ambulances and I hate hospitals. Thankfully, hubby was allowed in the ambulance with me.
When we got there, I was put in the most hideous bright pink hospital gown and they immediately strapped me to plenty of monitors, while doctors poked and prodded me. I was still contracting, but I couldn't feel all of them anymore. The cervix looked long and closed, and the Bean was moving well.

Now, about that hospital: try and picture a Third World hospital. Something you only see on TV. Well that's where I was. Sort of. Ok, I might be exaggerating a bit but it was dreadful. The only visiting hours are from 6-8pm, even for husbands! Everyone is walking around in these bright pink outfits, with plastic slippers and socks, which deeply offended my inner fashionista. All the beds are next to another, without any privacy other than rainbow colored curtains. Let's not even talk about the bathroom. That's right, singular. The lights are only dimmed at night, and everyone around me was moaning, tossing, turning, coughing, texting, etc. I barely slept. The food is very Cantonese: I had congee (a very viscous rice porridge) and a boiled egg for breakfast. My diet for the whole time there consisted of the Twix, Mars and Snickers that hubby had gotten from the 7/11 downstairs.
One of my friends who spent 12 weeks on strict bedrest at the luxurious private clinic, followed by a week at this university hospital said that 3 hours there were worse than the whole 12 weeks before.

The next morning, I got monitored again. If I was still contracting, they would keep me another few days. But luckily, everything was quiet (by my standards) and I was finally allowed back home. I will never ever complain about home bedrest, I swear! I love my bed, I love my couch, I love my home-cooked meals, I love my computer, my TV, my home.

I went into the hospital, and came back out with the Bean still in my belly. This is my biggest victory so far.