Postcard from Bishkek

It’s been four weeks since I last wrote a postcard … the result of a period of  ”forced rest and recuperation”.

On the evening of August 22nd, I settled down to write my regular review of the week in Kyrgyzstan to posted on Saturday morning and I was in the middle of writing it when I suffered a searing pain through my abdomen and it was so bad that I decided to go to bed instead, setting the alarm to get up early in order to finish it off in the morning.

I wasn’t too worried, thinking that I simply eaten something that had upset my stomach and that some medication and a good night’s rest would give my body time to overcome the problem.

In the morning, however, although I felt a little better, the pain was still quite severe and so I turned over and went back to sleep.

Sunday wasn’t much better and so on Monday I decided to visit the doctor.

We drove off to the hospital and  spoke to the doctor … she listened to what I had to say, then told me to lie down and prodded my stomach.  Then, in turn, she called in a colleague and he also prodded me.  With a look of amazement, as if it was obvious, he made his pronouncement.  Then another was summoned and the process repeated … then another … and another.  All in all, the five doctors all concurred: it was a case of Acute Appendicitis and warranted an operation.

I was a bit surprised as I had thought that appendicitis was a young person’s complaint but I now understand that it can occur at any time and something like 1.5% of cases concern someone of my age, (over 60).

I was taken to registration and filled in all the necessary forms and I signed the consent form.

From there I was taken to a preparation room and had my torso shaved.  To be honest, it was like most hospitals here, a bit run down and and not as sparkling as a hospital in the west, but serviceable and functionable.

When I was being taken from there to the operating theater, the doctor accompanying me asked if I was nervous.  Of course I am,” I thought to myself, (after all, it’s the first time I have ever been admitted to hospital, yet alone had an operation), but, as it’s a standard operation, I said  ”Not really, it’s a standard procedure, isn’t it?”.

“Yes,” he said, “we even do it under local anesthetic”, but when he saw the look on my face he added, “but for you we will perform it under a general anesthetic.”

I was pleased about that and thanked him.  I probably wouldn’t have minded a local anesthetic  back in the UK, and might have even found it an interesting experience, but the thought occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to see what was going on and the staff performing the operation would be talking about what was going on and I wouldn’t understand what they were saying – especially if they spoke in Kyrgyz – and that would just make me even more anxious than I was already feeling.    

As it happens, that was just as well, because, as I understand it, there were some complications.

As we walked into the operating theater I asked how long the operation would take and was told “maybe an hour”.  In the end, apparently, it took about an hour and a half.

The room was quite large, much larger than I had expected, and cold.  I wondered what it would be like in the dead of winter.  I was told to lie on the table with my arms outstretched like on a crucifix, and was strapped down.  They gave me an injection and the next thing I knew was waking up later in the afternoon in the Reanimation ward, (the equivalent of intensive care).

Fortunately, the appendix hadn’t burst, but three were some complications.  Apparently, for example, there was some inflammation of the intestines and kidney and they drained a substantial amount of liquid from my abdomen.

They kept me in reanimation for the rest of the week and then transferred me to another ward, with a host of medication, (numerous intravenous drips, antibiotics, tablets and so forth), changing the dressings every day and told me to keep a strict (and plain) diet.  When the week was up, I was allowed to come home but warned to rest.  The most I could do was to check the email.  I was warned not to travel far and the most I was allowed to lift was a kilogram.

I am not sure why they kept me for so long … knowing that, in the West, people are often discharged from hospital after three days following similar operations.  I can only assume that it was a combination of my age, the complications, the fact that I am a foreigner and their natural conservatism.

Four days into the first week something happened and the pain in the abdomen reoccurred and I thought I may have to go back into hospital … but, fortunately, it only lasted for a day and seems to have been linked to something I had eaten which wasn’t on the diet.

I am pleased to say that I am feeling a lot better, (although not 100%), and eager to get “back into the saddle “. although it will take some time to get back “up to speed”.

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I need to thank all the people who have been so helpful and supportive over the past month, whether members of the medical staff who have looked after me so well and professionally, our staff, my local “family” and friends, or the wider circle of friends worldwide who have sent me their best wishes having seen the photos of me in hospital on Facebook.

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In the meantime, I can’t promise a postcard every day as in the past … but I’ll do my best to keep posting interesting items of news about Kyrgyzstan as I come across them.

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