Medical Test – Roommate Bonding at its Best

So I arrived home from vacation with lights shining from the windows of my home. I opened the front door and was greeted by my new roommate. I have lost count somewhere along the way as to what number she would be, there is just so much coming and going and saying goodbye with people who pass through here. In the two weeks I was absent my old roommate moved out and a new one took her place.

As part of the bonding process of getting to know this new girl living in my apartment we decided to go together to get our yearly medical check-up. For every foreigner living in this country we are required to have these test done every year in order to apply for a new residence permit.

We got up early in the morning to make it all the way across the town to the medical facility. As we were walking across their long icy driveway we were passed by a large bus filled with airline employees who are also required to get yearly check-ups. As we hurried forward we knew that each person that disembarked from the bus represented a long wait in line for us. Sure enough we got into the room to fill out our paper work and there was nothing but a sea of people standing between us and the front desk (people here don’t really believe in lines as much as a mass of people pushing forward all at once). You could hear their leaders voice struggling to be heard above the buzz “line-up everyone, show some etiquette”, but to little affect.

The longer I live here the more this push and shove mentality grows in me. I stuck out my elbows and pushed my way to the front. I wanted to get a form so that I could start to fill it out while she registered all of the airline employees. I handed over my passport copy and two mug shot photos of myself. She glanced at the pictures and shook her head. “Those are too small” she said curtly. “But they are the same size as hers”, I said pointing to the local women standing next to me. “You are a foreigner, you need to submit bigger ones” . My new roommate offered to fill in both forms as I headed back out the door and up the long driveway to a picture/photocopy place that was out by the gate. I was afraid it was going to take me a while as they shot new pictures and took the time to photo shop away all the blemishes on my face. But thankfully they just scanned my small ones and blew them up bigger.

I hurried back to the medical office and fell in line squarely behind the whole pack. My new roommate and I moved from room to room, having our blood tested by women who never change their gloves between clients (and were very interested in our hand sanitizer since they had never seen any), whipping off the cold jelly from the ultra sound machine, holding the curtain so that the Uyghur guys behind us in line wouldn’t stare while we were getting our EKG done. We bonded over holding each other’s coats while the other one got poked and prodded and X-rayed.

Why You Have Stomach Issues

As I have mentioned many times… living here overseas means living with stomach issues, namely diarrhea. Our local friends have a lot of reasons to explain away our discomfort. My top two I heard recounted from fellow expats this week are:

1. You drink cold water from the fridge – no wonder you have diarrhea, drinking cold things will make you sick.

2. Your underwear is too low. If you wore ones that were higher cut they would keep your stomach warm and you wouldn’t have this problem.

Sound logic on their part since they would never do either of these things and don’t seem to have the same problem, but they forget that I spent more than 20 year of my life in Canada drinking ice water and not wearing granny panties tucked up under my armpits. Sadly I have learned there is no point in arguing with their statements of concern… instead I say “Thank you, I will have to try that next time, maybe it will help.”

Just Take it and Let’s Get out of here!

Our bus pulled into the station after a wearisome 11 and half hour journey it was dark and late and well past my bedtime. My travelling companion and I grabbed our bags and headed for the gate to find a taxi. Behind us came an explosion of people yelling in a variety of languages:

“Stop!”

“Come back here.”

“You can’t leave yet”

“What about your medicine?”

One of the guards came running forward to block the gate and keep us from exiting , while another man in a while lab coat, presumably a doctor, started waving papers under my nose and pointing to the line. That was when I noticed that every one of our fellow passengers had dutifully disembarked the bus and were standing in line to receive whatever medical treatment the local physician deemed necessary.

Since I am on a regular regiment of medications that are prone to side effects and adverse interactions with unknown drugs I am weary of taking something that I don’t know. I haven’t studied enough medical words, so I didn’t know what disease they were saying had broken out in their area, but I tried valiantly to convince them that I was sure I had been inoculated for it in Canada and that I couldn’t pop their mysterious pill. My arguments fell on deaf ears and were to no avail. The group of one doctor, three nurses and two gate guards ganged up on me and scolded saying “You can’t leave the bus station until you take this”, “No hotel in our city will permit you to stay if you have not had your medicine” “You may get very ill, if you do not listen to us”.

Against my better judgment I blindly grabbed their white tablet and swallowed it, signing my name on the dotted line, and accepting the slip with the red stamp calming that I had received the need medical treatment. I kept that sheet of paper close to me, and sure enough needed to show it again at the airport in order to board a plane and leave the area.

It wasn’t until after I returned to my home that I learned that part of our province was facing an outbreak of polio. My doctor friend was kind enough to reassure me, that while a person on immune suppressant, like myself, should not take a live vaccine she did say that I should be fine since I would have taken a vaccination years ago for the same disease. Her confidence did put my heart at ease.

Tickets Have Been Purchased

Last week when I was at the doctor’s office I got the go ahead. It seems that my incision and infection have healed amazingly quickly. I think I heard the word “prefect” pass the mouth of a medical professional in response to my case. With that pronouncement I started looking into flight and ordering tickets. I am now knee deep in purchasing fun North American treats and trying to pack them in my small weight allowance.

I official leave here Thursday night at about 9pm, but due to about 20 hours spent in layover, 4 different flights, and huge time difference created when travelling internationally I don’t actually land in my destination until 11pm Saturday night ( that is 11 Central Asia time – I guessing about 1 in the afternoon here). It will be a long journey, but my strength has returned and so am I returning.

Thanks to all of you for your thoughts and support in so many ways over the last few weeks. Some prayed, some sent cards, and others called to see how I was doing – all of it meant so much to me. A special thanks goes out to mom and dad who ‘held my hand’ through the roller coaster that has been this past month.

A Second Bellybutton

Since surgery and since my brother's wedding I have come down with an infection at my incision sight. While the infection itself is clearing up, and looks good, the doctor had to cut a hole in my stomach in order to clean it all up. The hole is currently the size of my pinky figure and healing slowly. They can’t stitch it back up, because that would close any remaining infection inside, which means I am waiting for it to heal on its own. The doctors have given a variety of time length indicating how long this might take, I have heard everything from 2 weeks to almost 2 months ( as Uyghurs would say when they hear bad news ‘Huda Suklasun’ aka- God Forbid).

I asked friends in the nursing profession if there is anything I can do to speed up this process. One suggestion was to stay away from sugar - a hard thing to do in the Canadian land of plenty surrounded by chocolate, ice cream, cinnamon rolls and other decadent treats. But in an earnest attempt to do all that I can I have not only turned my back on these sweet indulgences, I have even cut the sugar from my coffee. (Long suffering sigh)

I ran into some friends the other day who were surprised to see I was still in Canada. They said they had been checking my blog, but since there was no update either way they just assumed that I was in the process of traveling and unable to post anything. Sorry to all who have been faithfully checking in hopes of hearing news. I have been taking so many antibiotics to fight the infection that I didn’t have any energy left to sit at my computer, much less try to be lighthearted while admitting to my delay. I will keep you posted on the state of my second bellybutton and my plans for return.

Doctors Still Make House Calls

Thank you all for your concern over the last week. I just wanted to let you all know that I am out of the hospital and safely recovering at home.

Since my wonderful Canadian health care (the one I have boasted about many times to you Americans) lapsed since I have spent too much time overseas.... Since I wasn't sure what sort of coverage my international company had in Canada I was scared to go for medical help when I first started to feel sick. I spent two days lying around home moaning in pain, before my parents suggested we call one of the doctors that attends the same church as my brother and at least tell him my symptoms over the phone. He not only suggested meds, but decided to stop by the house on his way home (who knew Doctors still made house calls???)

After a quick examination the doctor was the one who actually called 911. The ambulance guys arrived at our house checked my vital signs and declared that all looked good. They even asked if I really wanted to go to the hospital. If it wasn't for the kind doctor still standing in the corner of my bedroom vigorously nodding his accent, I likely would have stayed put. As it was the ambulance guys said they couldn't get the stretcher up the five stairs in our house, so they asked if I would mind walking outside to their vehicle.

Their lack of concern placed me low on the triage list at the hospital waiting room. We arrived at 6:30ish and likely didn’t see anyone for 2 ½ to 3 hours. During that time I was sitting slumped over in the wheelchair they provided watching as limping people came out with casts and other maladies seemed to be being treated all around me.

Within a few minutes of calling my name the nurse had me on IV for my dehydration, still not sure how the whole thing was going to be funded I have to admit I started counting each vile of blood they took and each bag of medicine they hooked up to drip into me. Blood work showed that my white blood cell count was elevated indicating some sort of infection. More tests and several hours later they realized my appendix had ruptured. Suddenly the pace picked up and I was being presented with release forms to sign and prepped for surgery. It wasn’t until 5:30ish in the morning that we actually got the show on the road.

I spent a week in hospital hooked up to IV and feeling weak, but thankfully I am home now, with the guarantee from my international insurance company that they will pick up the whole bill (they have even called a few times just to check up and see how I am feeling). I am still really tired and wear out from a quick walk about the block, but thankfully I am okay. As one woman encouragingly said to my mom the other day “You know you can die from that”.

This is my first day trying to eat something other than soup and liquids. It looks like I may have to push my return date back a few weeks, from June 9^th until the 20^th or so. I still need to look into the price change, but mom assures me she is willing to pay the difference.

Where In the World is KSA???

Since I haven't blogged for over a week I thought you might be beginning to wonder where I was. So I asked my mom to post a short something for me to explain my absence.
So - Where In the World is KSA??? - she's in hospital recovering from an emergency appendectomy on a ruptured appendix and has been since Friday evening May 20th. She seems to be coming along and her spirits on the whole are good but any prayers and good wishes you wish to send her way would be appreciated.
Once she's home and doing better she'll be back.

Bus Accident

Traffic here can be a little crazy at times, the rules of the road are viewed more as suggestions than a hard and fast thing that must be followed. I know that who ever can get their nose in a spot first gets the spot. I also know that if you can go faster by driving in the oncoming lane that that is totally okay.

As I am sure you can imagine this can cause a lot of accidents. But in city driving is normally so slow that accidents don’t amount to much. In fact earlier this week the bus that I was on hit a pedestrian. We happened to be going so slow that it really only knocked the man's shoulder, when he turned and saw a bright orange bus millimeters from his face, he actually laughed and kept on walking.

However later in the week another bus I was on got in a real accident (the car we hit was likely a write off). Unfortunately I was standing at the time. Buses fill up fast here and they have learned that seats are a waste of space since you can pack a lot more people on without them. So there is a single row of seats along the sides and the back, and the rest of the bus is left for standing room. Right at the back door is a solid pole which is my favorite place to stand if I can get it (my roommate calls it the ‘open bar at the back’). I was the only one standing (when you are packed like sardines there is nowhere to move or get thrown to when the bus makes a jerky stop), so there was no one to cushion the impact for me. I held on to the bar as the driver jammed on the brakes, I was still standing as we were jerked back the other direction by the impact of the crash itself. Eventually I bumped into the lap of some one sitting close by and slid to the floor. As you can imagine this old body really hurt after that sort of trauma.

33. Thankful for no broken bones
34. For an “open bar” to grip hard as we were tossed about
35. A few days that I could move my schedule and just rest and recover
36. Friends who bring take out home so I don’t need to cook or move around
37. To be feeling better enough that I am actually up for writing about it and laughing about it.

Stomach Update

So I have to be honest I didn't make it through all five days of drinking my mud like medicine. I think drinking boiled orange and pomegranate peels, ginseng, and branches actually made my stomach issues worse. Oh well, I guess it goes on the list with sand therapy, as something I can say " I tried." The good news is my friend actually seems to be finding some relief.

Traditional Medicine

Last month I gave into the pressure of local friends telling me I needed to try sand therapy for my joints, this month I decided to let a friend take me to the Traditional Medicine doctor in hopes of finding a cure for my stomach issues. Yes, I have stomach issues. They are not something we discuss much in a North American context, but out here it is totally normal to complain about your bowel movements . Ever since my friend and I drank some not fully boiled water almost two years ago we have had reoccurring troubles. Since we had mentioned it a few times to local friends we finally had one women insist that she wanted us to see a traditional Doctor, ironically it was her restaurant we drank the water from two years ago.

I had one run in with traditional medicine before. Once when I was in a black taxi (a.k.a random car that I talked into taking me where I wanted to go), the driver said he had studied traditional medicine and asked if he could show me. At first I thought it was his sneaky way of getting to hold the white girl’s hand, but after he grabbed my wrist he just held it like he was taking my pulse. After a minute he said “oh you haven’t been sleeping well because of pain in your shoulders. You take a lot of different medications and you have also had surgery on your legs and they have metal in them”. I was shocked and surprised that he could gather all of that so quickly and just from holding my wrist. His accuracy made me more open and willing to go with my friend and at least see what the traditional medicine doctor had to say.

The appointment with the doctor only cost us about $1.50. My friend went first; as he held her wrist he asked questions about her stomach and how often she was using the washroom. After a few minutes he had the secretary write up a prescription and she was done. I paid my money and stretched out my hand. He asked me what I was there for. I mentioned struggling with some of the same symptoms as my friend. He once again called out a prescription, but as you can see by the photo, based on what he felt in our bodies even though it is the same issues he suggested different treatments.

He told us we could fill our prescription in the other room. We would have to boil up the contents of what they gave us and drink it twice a day for five days (at least everything is all natural, mine is the one with the orange peel, dried red dates, and stick looking things). The doctor also said we were to avoid eating spicy or cold food (his definition of cold food is not based on temperature). The lady in the next room, in accordance with the tradition aspect of it all, actually rang our total bill up on an abacus.

Our medicine (mine is one the left)

Boiling it up

Reaction to the first sip

Realization that I still have to drink 9 more cups of the stuff this week

Stress Relief

Sometimes all you need is a good laugh to get through a long day.

Cure for Arthritis

I don’t know if I have ever mentioned it before, but the province where I live has natural resources that can cure Arthritis. A pretty amazing coincidence considering that is what plagues me. When I moved here six years ago the first question people always asked me was “have you been to sit in the sand?” Apparently if you sit in the surrounding dessert sand for long enough your pain will vanish and your mobility will be restored.

While I have been to the city where these magical desert sands are located many times, I have never sought out this amazing treatment. Which has lead to loosing a lot of face in front of my neighbours (loosing face is the Asian way of expressing shame). To have to spend the last six years always answering “No, I have never tried it”, is very shameful. To them it sounds like I don’t believe in their cures, or that I don’t trust what they say.

So last week I took a few days off of my busy schedule to find lasting pain relief. My friends and I decided to stay in the official Sand sanatorium, where they have doctors and nurses on sight. The staff checked out my heart and blood pressure to make sure I was physically up to the heat. They also evaluated my arthritis and flexibility. The doctor was pleased to announce that there was hope for me. He said the sand could really cure me of my arthritis. I would just need to sit in the burning hot sand three times a day, every day for three months in the summer, every summer for the next 5 or 6 years. It is just a little time commitment.

When I asked the doctor if there was any point in my starting right now during the few days I had taken off of work. (I asked more for the photo opp of being able to show the picture to local friends and get points for having tired it, and to post it for all of you). But the doctor said it didn’t work. The sand is so hot you have to let your body get accustom to it. The first two days are spent just sitting on the sand for ten minutes at a time. It would take me weeks to get in as deep as this person and have my shoulders healed.

Buying Bruises

My friends and I had a hard week last week and in order to encourage us to complete tasks we were dreading we had set up a reward system. If we got certain tasks finished we were allowed to go for a massage (in hopes of removing some of the tension).

My friend went for the whole body massage, but I have tried that before and the massage therapist spends more time trying to get my legs to move in directions that they can't reach. So I decided to just get a simple back and shoulder massage. When I asked the price they told me something reasonable and then said it was an extra two dollars for something else. They lady was speaking really fast and I didn't really catch what the extra two dollars was for, but I agreed anyway and lay down to relax.

The first thirty minutes were great and I was almost asleep, when it was time for the two dollar extra bonus part of the message. The next thing I felt was this huge suction cup feeling on my back in not one or two places but a total of nineteen places. They take glass jars, light a candle inside them to suck up the oxygen and create a vacuum or sorts before sticking them to your back. The vacuum sucks up the skin and creates big black and blue bruises.

When I realized what they were doing to me, I tried to ask what the purpose of this particular treatment was. The answer was somewhat confusing; it was something about keeping me from getting sick by getting rid of the cold in my body. I didn't have a cold and I didn't feel like I was getting sick, and I really didn't see how bruising me was going to help get over these none existent symptoms.

It was a good cultural experience, but it was a little painful sleeping on my back filled with nineteen bruises all about four centimeters in diameter for the next few days.

A Gun to the Head

My roommate works for a translation company, the other day two strange men came strolling into her office. They were dressed in uniforms and entered saying "everyone stay seated and don't move". The younger man pulled something from his pocket and pressed it against my friend's temple. A momentary fear griped her as the man pressed a button on the object pointed at her head. "37" the man said curtly to his associate, before moving on to her next work mate. It took my friend a second to realize they were taking every one's temperature to check for H1N1.

I had a similar experience last week just trying to go into a book store. It seems like all over the city people are scared of the spread of the virus. If a class have five students report being sick, the rest get the week off as well. My winter cough has set in, but I am scared to cough anywhere outside for fear that someone will lock me up in isolation for a week.

Face Mask Instead of Fruit

When news of the swine flu first started to be reported last year, I heard more than one Uyghur joke that we wouldn't have to worry, since the Uyghur diet is no pork allowed. But as we know H1N1 has spread far and wide and there have been some reported deaths in our city. This has fears running high and face masks on.

Every local store now sells surgical face masks. They come in every colour and fashion print imaginable. The other day my friend came over for a visit, but instead of bringing me the customary gift of fruit, she brought a pale purple heart print face mask.

Pincushion

On Wednesday I had an appointment with my rhuematologist. Even though she is a very "in-demand" doctor with a long waiting list for appointments she always tries to fit me in when I am in Canada. The other day she gave me five cortisone shots one in both of my angry ankles (as she called them based on all the swelling) and one in my shoulder. I was expecting five needles, so I actually walked away less of a pincushion than I thought I would be. Today I woke up and could tell the drugs had started to work, my shoulder didn't hurt for the first time in months and had actually let me have a good night sleep. So I am very thankful and am in good shape to head back on Tuesday.

Climb Every Mountian

After last weeks run in with the the dance performance manager, my friends and I realized we had a few days free. We were scheduled to help him from Tuesday until Friday of last week. Since no one was expecting us we deiced to head to the mountains for a bit of a vacation.
The city I live in is surrounded on almost every side by mountains, which you can see on beautiful clear days from almost anywhere. It only costs about a dollar to hop on a bus and have them take you out to a point from which you can start hiking. Sadly these mountains are turning more and more into a tourist trap all the time. There are big hotels and restaurants, and even gate fees to pay to hike in certain parts.

We were able to talk with a Kazak family a little about their horses (Kazaks love horses, they are a vital part of the culture) and in the end the wife told us the round about path we could walk to avoid paying the entrance fee.
We hiked for about three hours before stopping for a picnic lunch ( huh, I might not be able to dance, but I can participate in some physical activities). As we hiked on we noticed that the rain was moving in and decided it was time that we find ourselves a place to sleep for the night. All through the mountains are Kazak yurts, where you can make a deal with the owner for dinner and a nights accommodation. But you have to be willing to bargain hard.

I don't speak Kazak ( it is linguistically close to Uyghur kind of like Spanish and Italian are fairly similar), I know a few simple rules of how the languages are different so we muddled our way through a conversation. I did pull out all the stops to try to get us a good price. I repeated the fact that I was a student over and over, I even showed off my skinny wrists to prove how little I eat. In the end I got the price down to $4CAD a night per person. I thought this included our dinner, but I was wrong, she ended up charging us an extra $5 for our food ( not to mention the $2 she charged us for coal to heat the fire and keep the yurt warm at night). I felt like we were getting riped off.

The outside of a Kazak yurt (traditional home)

The inside of the yurt (I am the one on the left with my head covered trying to get some sleep)

A cute little Kazak baby, dressed really warm against the summer chill ( except for its little bum sticking out of the split pants).

But since returning home my teacher asked how much we spent on our night in the mountains. I have learned over the years to turn the question back on them. If I answer first with how much I spent, my local friends will always tell me I paid way too much. But sometimes if I can get them to estimate the price first they will name something higher than I paid and I end up proving to them that foreigners can do alright at the bargaining game. My teacher thought a night in a yurt plus dinner for three people should run about 300-350 of the local currency. So you can imagine how surprised she was to learn that I had only paid 110 (for a grand total of $6CAD per person).

As you can see it was a beautiful and restful place to get away (and yes mom, these are all file photos from three years ago. We didn't have a camera on us to capture the beauty this time, but I have in the past.)