Under the Knife in a Third World Country

Thanks to all of you who called and kept me company while I was in the hospital, it was greatly appreciated!

Here's what happened: I started getting sick in the middle of the night Thursday night, throwing up and having really bad stomach pains. Amrah came in a taxi and took us to the hospital. The nurse looked at me, then they called a doctor from home to come in and look at me. He decided I needed to have my appendix out ASAP. Clayt called our the school director, and he and the school principal showed up soon after. We wanted to be sure this really had to happen, and if it did, was this the best place available. Turns out it was a yes for both.

I asked if they would put me to sleep, and he said they could, but it would involve putting a tube down my throat and the recovery would be longer and more painful. The alternative, however, was not much better. They wanted to put a needle in my spine to numb me from the chest down, and then operate while I was awake. Both parts of this plan really freaked me out.

30 minutes later I was undressed and in the operating room, hooked up to a monitor and waiting for the scary shot in my spine. The good thing was that I didn’t have much time to think about everything, it happened so fast. The woman came in to give me the shot. She told me “You don’t move, ok? Never move. If you move, then my needle will break inside your spine.” I asked, “will it hurt?” She said, “yes.” She was really making me nervous. So, there I was, naked, curled up on my side in the fetal position with two nurses holding me down to minimize my movements. The shot hurt, but it wasn’t so bad. the needle did not break.

2 minutes later I was lying on my back again and the shot was kicking in. They were rubbing iodine or something all over me, and I could feel it. I mean, everything was going numb, but I was aware that they were touching me. This made me really nervous as I thought I would be able to see and feel when he cut into me. That feeling went away though, and as they saw I was getting freaked out, they put up a little curtain so I couldn’t see anything that was happening.

Some time later the doctor told me that my appendix was really long and red. He asked if I wanted to see it. I figured, why not, I wouldn’t get another chance! He dangled the thing over my face with a pair of tweezers, and I was scared it would fall on me. But, it didn’t of course, and that’s the first and last time I ever saw my appendix.

After surgery they wheeled me out. I passed Clayt, Amrah and our school bosses, and was only able to say “I survived” before we were down another corridor. I was still very numb, and it was tough to get my dead weight into the bed even with the nurses helping. And there I lay, at 4:30 in the morning, staring out the window and shivering from nerves and way too uncomfortable to sleep. I had to wait until 10 a.m. before I could see clayt. They gave me nothing for pain, nothing to help me sleep.

So that was early Friday morning, and I wasn’t able to come home until Monday late morning. The days in between were filled with 2 shots and 2 IVs each day. Unfortunately for me, I have hard to find veins and this really confounded them. Each time they came in to give me an IV, they had to poke me at least twice before getting the right spot. One night the nurse poked me 4 painful times before giving up and not giving me an IV at all. Our boss brought me soups and crackers twice a day, which was helpful since the hospital didn’t feed me hardly at all.

I had the pain from the operation, pain from the IVs and shots, pain from where they ripped off the surgical tape and took some of my skin with it, and then they said I had a bladder infection too, and the treatment for that was also painful. At no time did anyone give me antibiotics (but I hope that was what was in the shots) and no painkillers. I asked one of the nurses on the second day “please, can I take medicine for the pain?” She said “No, pain is good.” I beg to differ.

I had two roommates, both Mongolian with almost no English. None of the nurses spoke English (except one, but she wasn’t ever around), and the doctor spoke funny English. It was a long and boring three days. Unfortunately, visitors weren’t allowed to come into the ward, so when clayt came to visit, I had to go stand out in the hallway to see him. It was a no-frills hospital. You had to bring your own food, your own toilet paper, and only 2 toilets for the whole wing to use. There was also an ashtray in the unisex bathroom, and a sign in Mongolian that said please don’t smoke around other people. Several times I had to turn back and wait a while since the bathroom was occupied by a man with a head injury smoking a cigarette. I could have gone into a stall, but I am still not cool with sharing a bathroom with strange men (especially when there is a lock on the door!).

They also burned incense in the mornings, which I don’t think would fly in the US, but it smelled pretty good. Also, one day the nurse wasn’t around and my IV was finished, so the girl in the bed across from me got up and took the needle out for me. See what I mean about no frills?

The stitches come out this Thursday, and I’m out of work for this week it looks like. I saw the doctor again today, and said everything looks fine. He’s a good surgeon, and said he worked for the WHO at one point, and traveled to 23 countries in that time. He’s used to performing operations in a less than ideal setting.

So there it is, the story of my least favorite Mongolian experience so far. Lets hope it will stay that way!