August - September 1972: Hospital in Tehran

Taken From All About My Hat The Hippy Trail 1972 ISBN ‎ 978-0993210716

The next morning, Al awoke and had a good breakfast at a small café. He decided to head off to the American Express offices to see if they could get any money that was waiting for him in Delhi sent to him that day in Tehran. Then, he planned, he would organise transport somehow to Istanbul. From there he would seek a lift closer to the UK at the Pudding Shop.

He thought a lot about Diane, hoping she was OK, but that was her choice. Al believed in freedom of choice. “Well,” he thought, “She was penniless when he had first met her in Delhi, now at least she had money and a passport again and if she hangs about at Sigis she'll probably get a lift. She'll be OK, she's a survivor and it wasn't her that was dying from dysentery and Infectious Hepatitis.

He was given directions to the American Express Offices, left his bag in the room and with me upon his head, started to walk the busy streets.

But it was getting hotter and hotter. Al was feeling weaker and weaker. He had to sit down.

The only place to sit was on the dirty pavement.

He must have looked terrible. His long hair and his clothing was dirty. He was very thin. It turned out that he had lost about a third of his body weight, now being a little over ninety pounds.

He sat there a while. The street was crowded, the road full of traffic, as usual a great honking of horns as cars, taxis, buses and trucks fought to some space to drive into. The traffic was very slow.

Nobody seemed to care about Al – he thought about the “Good Samaritan” story in the New Testament. Would there be one here?

He tried to stand up and almost fainted. He tried getting the attention of a passer-by for ages, to no avail. Then, when he had stopped trying to get help, it came in the form of a young guy, probably Iranian, in jeans and shirt.

The chap asked Al if he was OK.

“No, I am not and thanks for stopping. I think I have to go to the British Embassy, do you know where it is please?”, said Al.

“Sorry my friend, I do not know, but the American Embassy is around the next corner and you will see it, not far my friend, I will show you,” said the guy and with that helped Al stand up and took him to the street and pointed.

“There is U S Embassy,” he said, pointing.

But what Al saw was the Union Jack, the British flag! It was the UK Embassy building after all.

Al said thanks and goodbye and headed down the street, crossing over and going in through what looked like an entrance. At the gate stood a large security guard in some sort of ceremonial costume.

As Al approached the guard said “Embassy closed today!”

“I'm British,” aid Al, “I am ill, you cannot stop me coming on to British soil can you? I want to see somebody for help.”

“You can go inside but there is nobody here to see you today – come back tomorrow, Sir,” stressed the guard.

So Al walked in, the guard following saying again to come back tomorrow.

Al saw a wooden door and it opened so he went in. Inside was a large room with wooden tables and chairs, some wooden benches by the wall, and at the far end what looked like a reception office with a closed shutter.

He headed for a bench and lay on it.

"I will wait here until somebody comes and please bring me some good water to drink.”

The guard went off and a few minutes later he came back with two sealed glass bottles full of water.

Al drank almost a whole bottle, lay down again on the wooden bench and fell asleep.

Some time later, probably several hours, an embassy official arrived.

He seemed a pleasant and sympathetic chap and Al explained his situation.

“Well, you can't stay here. I think we should get you to the hospital so they can do some tests!”

Al agreed and the official led him out to a car and took him a few miles to the outskirts of Tehran where the hospital was.

Once inside the hospital, the embassy official stayed until an English-speaking doctor came and Al had explained his problems. Then he left saying that he would stay in touch.

The doctor said Al should stay at least one night and they would do tests. He took Al's pulse and blood pressure, listened through his stethoscope at Al’s chest, pressed on his abdomen and took a sample of blood.

Al was then told to lay on a bed trolley and with me in his hand, was taken to a small ward and led to a bed. Of course he did not have clothing to change into, but they brought him some over-sized pyjamas. They also brought Al a hot meal but it had meat in it. Al explained that he did not eat flesh and, although he felt that the nurse really did not understand either what he was saying or why he did not eat meat, the meal was soon replaced with rice and vegetables and no meat. It was delicious and felt wholesome.

Al was shown where the wash room with shower and quickly stripped off, washed his body and hair and washed his clothes, all at the same time. He did not wash me though. I think I needed it to rain, I was dirty too.

He went back to his bed. He was feeling a lot better now. He fell asleep. I was on a small cabinet next to his bed, next to some bottles of water and a small vase with flowers in!

Some time later, a male nurse woke Al up and handed his some tablets, which he swallowed. He went back to sleep.

It was the following morning that he awoke. They served him a breakfast of some sort of porridge, eggs and bread, yoghurt and a rice pudding.

The doctor came and explained to Al that they had the results of the tests and that he should stay a few nights and take the tablets.

“When you go it is very important. You must not drink alcohol and you must not eat fried food or fresh fruit or salad.”

Later that day the embassy official came to visit Al.

He told Al that the best action for him was to take a flight home.

Al explained his lack of money but that he had money in Kabul and maybe some at the American Express if he could get it sent from Delhi offices.

The guy left and came back about an hour later.

He said that if Al signed a paper giving authority, the embassy could arrange with the embassy in Kabul and the American Express in Delhi. Al could stay at the hospital another four nights and then the Embassy would arrange for a car to pick him up and he would be able to fly to London.

Al told him yes but his bag was at the hotel and he had to pay the extra bill.

So the official said “OK, we will pick you up by car and take you to your hotel, you stay only for one night, OK? Then we take you to the airport.”

Al agreed. That was the last he saw of the official. But for four more days and nights he felt warm and clean and was well fed and medicated.