“They do. It is a popular hospital. We’ve even had one patient insist on going back to the Queen Victoria for his second knee.”
“A testimonial is always good,” Jennifer said. “Can I call the hospital and try to talk with my grandmother?”
“Certainly,” Michelle said, and rattled off the number.
“What time is it now in New Delhi?” Jennifer asked.
“Let’s see.” There was a pause. “I often get this mixed up. It’s nine-fifty-five a.m. here so I believe it is nine-twenty-five p.m. in New Delhi. They are ten and a half hours ahead of us here in Chicago.”
“Would it be an okay time to call?”
“I really couldn’t say,” Michelle responded.
Jennifer thanked the woman. For a moment she thought about trying her grandmother’s cell phone but then nixed the idea. In contrast to Jennifer’s AT&T phone, she didn’t think her grandmother’s Verizon would work in India. She called the Queen Victoria Hospital. As the call went through in literally seconds, Jennifer couldn’t help being impressed, especially since she had no idea how cell phones, or any phone for that matter, worked. A moment later she found herself conversing in English halfway around the world with a woman with a pleasantly melodic and distinctive Indian accent. It was somewhat similar in Jennifer’s ear to an English accent but more musical.
“I can’t believe I’m talking to someone in India,” Jennifer effused.
“You are welcome,” the hospital operator said somewhat inappropriately. “But you probably talk to India more than you realize, with our many call centers.”
Jennifer gave her grandmother’s name and asked if she could be connected to her room.
“I’m very sorry,” the operator answered, “but we are not able to forward calls after eight in the evening. If you had the extension, you could call direct.”
“Can you give me the extension?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed, for obvious reasons. Otherwise, I would connect you.”
“I understand,” Jennifer said, but she still felt there hadn’t been any harm in asking. “Can you tell me how she is doing?”
“Oh, yes, of course. We have a list right here. What is the surname again?”
Jennifer repeated “Hernandez.”
“Here she is,” the operator said. “She’s doing very well and already taking nourishment and has been mobilized. The doctors say they are very pleased.”
“That’s terrific,” Jennifer responded. “Tell me, does she have someone there at the hospital who is in charge of her case?”
“Oh, yes, indeed! All our foreign visitors have a host-country case manager. Your grandmother’s is Kashmira Varini.”
“Can I leave a message for her?”
“Yes. Would you prefer I take it or would you like to leave it on her voicemail? I can connect you.”
“Voicemail would be fine,” Jennifer said. She was impressed. Her brief exposure to an Indian hospital suggested it was quite civilized and certainly equipped with contemporary communications.
Following Kashmira Varini’s pleasant outgoing message, Jennifer left her name, her relationship to Maria Hernandez, and a request to be kept informed of her granny’s progress or, at the very least, to be informed if there happened to be any problems or complications. Before disconnecting, Jennifer slowly and distinctly gave her cell phone number. She wanted to be certain there would be no mistakes because of accent. Jennifer knew she had a strong New York accent.