As I was saying

Since it looked like our daughter was in the clear, but not definately in the clear, the doctor recommended we stay for a few hours or overnight for observation. The expat wing is within the much larger local hospital, so we made our way to the recovery unit via the general lift lobby. By now the place is deserted and it took us no time to get an elevator. As we waited, though, the doctor started telling us about how difficult it is to get an elevator when the hospital is open for regular business. That morning he had a patient, a twenty-something Swede, who'd O.D. on party drugs and half a litre of vodka. As the doctor was rushing him to the 9th floor to pump his stomach, he had to wait for the elevator to stop on every floor so people could get on and off. Even after they finally wheeled the guy into the elevator, people still got on and off and every floor, many of them staring at the foreigner who was literally turning blue. Yes, the guy survived, but getting to the hospital through Shanghai's traffic is no guarantee that you've beaten crowds and are going to get treated.
The telling of this story lasted until we reached the recovery wing, and to add icing to the cake, he stepped onto the wing and drew attention to marble floors, "You see their priorities here? They'll put in a marble floor, but God forbid they should spend the money on a dedicated lift to the emergency operating room, or a pediatric unit."
Great. You can rock us to sleep now.
Our daughter went into a fitful sleep in the recovery room, and the nurses were gentle and competant. My wife and I prayed and watched a bootleg copy of The Incredibles over and over again on the inhouse TV station. Around 3:00 we decided the worst was over and we checked out, but only after we had paid our bill in full.

OK. On the upside, they stayed open for us. Mind you, there was little they could do given the equipment they have. And if we'd been just a little later, they wouldn't have been open to taking our emergency call in the first place.