LOGAN GETS SOME SURGERY
Note - I'm trying to type this while it is fresh in my mind. That means I am actually a bit dizzy and out of sorts (more on that later) but you will get it 'fresh'.
First of all Sergey & Roksana Panashchuk. I cannot praise these people highly enough. They went way the hell out of their way to help me out. Calling taxis, looking for doctors, coming in to see the doctor, all that stuff. Loads of work. And not just for the hospital - pretty much my entire fucking stay in Ukraine. Wow.
Stick little hearts around their names. They are amazing people. Simply amazing.
Without them I'm not sure where I'd be or how I'd be.
I would also like to give a special thank you to Julie J. She is an actual nurse in the states. I'll tell you, anything she tells me I pay attention to. And she is happy to give me some advice to keep me alive. Shower her with small dragon figurines! Not the really pointy ones - just place those nearby.
DISCLAIMER!
There is nothing worse than some old fucker telling you about what all is wrong with them. Getting their surgery and all that shit. Nobody cares. So why am I telling people? Because any time I do, it seems that more people want to know about it.
This could be for several reasons including:
"Die, Logan, die!"
Want to find out what health care is like in other countries.
Enjoy the suffering of Logan
My audience is comprised partially of actual ghouls (Pickman's Model style)
So I am going into detail. Otherwise, I'd just say "Had my gall bladder pulled out, feeling shaky" and move on. If that's all the detail you need, I'd just close this entry and wait for the next blog, honestly.
I am always careful about giving this disclaimer as about two to three minutes after someone begins telling me about any sort of medical procedure I had not specifically asked to hear about, I begin rooting for the Grim Reaper.
EXPLANATION
Sharp eyed readers may notice that some of the worlds are highlighted. This is to make it easier for people who English is not their first (or fifth, whatever) language to be able to understand some of the more obscure terms I use.
WARNING
This blog contains some pictures which may make the reader projectile vomit onto their computer screen. Read at your own discretion.
PREQUEL
For the last couple months, I'd been having some nasty diarrhea. Long time fans of the blog will know that is about as common as me going to a new country. However, this was a lot more persistent.
After a couple months, it was time to go in to see the doctor.
FIRST THE PRICES
Wanted to get these out of the way instead of holding them behind my back like a lame magician.
I forget exactly what the doctor (with all the tests) cost but it was under a hundred. In fact, all of this stuff I'm going to write about totals out to under $500 USD. For those from the USA, that amount of money is amazingly low, for those from what I personally consider more civilized countries (those with universal health care - just my opinion) will think that amount is 'crazy high'.
Also, yes, this was after haggling down. It was about $60 less plus I got meds and tests thrown in for free instead of ala cart. The actual price for just the surgery was 10,000 UAH for stay and surgery plus 1,000 UAH as a bribe (yes, really, not kidding) to the head of the department. Because I am familiar with bribery (and have done it quite often for very minor things) I didn't do the 'indignant foreigner' thing. I just said "So instead of the initial 15,000 UAH, we're down to 11,000 UAH? Deal." Always, always, always haggle. (If you are bad at it or embarrassed to do it, either be rich or have friends with you that can do it.)
I did also try to haggle for a solo room. Was told they didn't have any. Got a solo room anyway. Two beds in it but putting other people with 'the foreigner' doesn't fly with them.
ANALYSIS OF THE PROBLEM
Step one, Sergey and Roksana (after doing a bunch of research) found a close by hospital. We went in there and they did an ultrasound.
I asked if my baby was going to be OK.
Turns out no.
There was a 1mm big stone in there. Until I saw it when they yanked it out, I didn't think that was that big. Now, I think 'holy crap'.
Sergey distrusted this doctor. He thought he was along the 'smile but don't help you' as opposed to 'gruff but helps you' type. They only have those two different types here. Nobody who is nice can help you, I guess?
Plus, this doctor did NOT want to operate on me. He wanted me to wait till I got to the UK. Operating on foreigners here - risky. He was not up for it.
A couple days later, the pain and shitting had increased. According to the internet 'chronic diarrhea' is crapping three times a day. So I have triple chronic or some shit.
So Sergey and Roksana went back to researching even calling the landlord of the place I am renting. When I asked "Oh god, why?" it is because he has contacts. Old people have more contacts. Apparently he (might) know someone at the State Hospital. They operate on foreigners there.
Disclaimer: I'm not sure if I was the first or if a foreigner had ever been operated on there. Nobody mentioned it and usually people love to tell me about things like that.
The hospital is actually older than Logan so in another forty years, it will be (according to American standards) an antique.
WHAT TO BRING TO THE HOSPITAL
Fucking everything. The only thing you should really expect the hospital to supply is 'some of the stuff they will use for the surgery and that's about it'. Towels? Soap? Toilet paper after you've been given a mixture guaranteed to make you shit out literally everything inside of you? NO. (Though in my case the surgeon was actually super nice and went and got me some.)
Where are you suppose to get all of this shit?
Unlike in many people in the USA where people have moved well the hell away from their family or are unmarried and such, the family unit in Eastern Europe is a huge deal. The family is expected to bring all this stuff. In some hospitals they may even have to feed their relatives. When this happened to me back in Republic of Georgia, one of the nurses was kind enough to take some of my money out to get some horrible food for me at the market.
Note that if you have special dietary concerns, you will have to pretty much bring all your own food. You may even be considered 'weird', 'picky' or 'extra delicate' if you are a vegan, vegetarian, etc. You can try to get around this in some countries by claiming a religious insanity. But in the hospital, honestly I'm not sure. BYOF.
THE PEOPLE (STAFF, DOCTORS, ETC)
Except for one lady (just one) everyone else there was super nice to me. Being a foreigner when you are well away from anything 'touristy' is big clout.
Rather than trying to take advantage of it (yes, locals haggle as well) I try to pay for their kindness by making them laugh and trying to entertain them just a little bit. Their jobs are hard, icky and pay for shit here. So I try to give them at least a smile for the day.
WHO SPOKE ENGLISH?
Well, after Sergey & Roksana had to leave (these guys work hard for their money and put a lot of hours into it) it suddenly turned out that the surgeon's English was 'just fine'.
This is part of an infuriating problem I've seen in loads of countries. Unless someone speaks 'perfect' English (or thinks they do) they are super reluctant to speak any. Hell, I know 20-30 works of Russian and I use those daily. And I am often told I mispronounce some of them.
Once you slaughter their language enough, I find that either the people begin to feel they're not going to be made fools of for some piffling grammatical error or they want revenge for what you did to their language. Either way, with about half of the people you can eventually get them to work with you.
GOOGLE TRANSLATE
But google translate really kicked ass.
Tips for using Google translate in the real world:
Short statements only. For some reason, the longer your statement is (even if comprised of different sentences) the more crazy the translation gets. No idea why this is.
Simple statements only. Try to say it in such a way that it cannot be misunderstood.
No catch phrases or sarcasm. Blunt and direct only.
And other patients got press ganged into translating. I tried to make up for it by later going into their room, chatting with them. It ended up being a whole bunch of staff in there as I was telling a funny story. Not nearly as cool as the scene from the movie 'What About Bob' but Bill Murray I am not.
THE REAL COST
I'm sure a lot of people out there would say "I would never want to get X surgery outside of the USA!"
How much money is just the surgery worth to you?
How much to be able to understand doctors and nurses with more accuracy?
How much for a very nice looking hospital room?
Is it worth tens of thousands of dollars? Bankruptcy?
To some people, perhaps. To me, that's 'crazy talk'. I try to stick with what I can actually afford.
AND NOW, THE PICTURES
I buried them down here so that nobody would accidentally see them. You really have to want to see this stuff if you're scrolling down this far.
I think this may be a rather clever sewing box. If I had a TARDIS and infinite cash, I might have lots of weird stuff in there.
AND NOW, THE GROSS SHIT
Most painful memory within this hospital - I was actually fighting against the nurses when I first came out of the operating room. Not really a conscious decision - I was just in blinding pain. I was trying to lie on my side hoping it would decrease it. All of them managed to hold me down. Bad times. Was that the most physical pain I'd ever been in? Not sure - top ten for sure.
AND AFTER I GOT HOME
More fuckery. (Yes, my friends this is a real word!)
I felt like I was going to pass out. Nearly shit myself. Slammed my fingers in a door on accident. Had gone in the hard rain to the store a three blocks away. Told a guy I needed plastic wrap. He pointed out paper wrap that looked just like fucking plastic wrap.
пластик plastik - Russian
пластик plastyk - Ukrainian
Note - it sounds the same. Hence, I now think the guy I asked - who works there - may be a bit dim. Ah well.
Since I was given no information about what to do with my bandaged wounds and apparently buying plastic wrap to cover them is not possible (who the fuck uses paper to cover their food?) I chopped up a shopping bag and used some tape I'd liberated (took) from the hospital. The tape was part of my 'bag of shit' so all good.
IN CONCLUSION
Yes, it was a bit of suffering. Yes, it did feel a bit like 'Doctor Nick' as Joseph O. pointed out on Facebook. But I could afford it. And I'm happy to have survived.
Note - I'm trying to type this while it is fresh in my mind. That means I am actually a bit dizzy and out of sorts (more on that later) but you will get it 'fresh'.
First of all Sergey & Roksana Panashchuk. I cannot praise these people highly enough. They went way the hell out of their way to help me out. Calling taxis, looking for doctors, coming in to see the doctor, all that stuff. Loads of work. And not just for the hospital - pretty much my entire fucking stay in Ukraine. Wow.
Stick little hearts around their names. They are amazing people. Simply amazing.
Without them I'm not sure where I'd be or how I'd be.
I would also like to give a special thank you to Julie J. She is an actual nurse in the states. I'll tell you, anything she tells me I pay attention to. And she is happy to give me some advice to keep me alive. Shower her with small dragon figurines! Not the really pointy ones - just place those nearby.
DISCLAIMER!
There is nothing worse than some old fucker telling you about what all is wrong with them. Getting their surgery and all that shit. Nobody cares. So why am I telling people? Because any time I do, it seems that more people want to know about it.
This could be for several reasons including:
"Die, Logan, die!"
Want to find out what health care is like in other countries.
Enjoy the suffering of Logan
My audience is comprised partially of actual ghouls (Pickman's Model style)
So I am going into detail. Otherwise, I'd just say "Had my gall bladder pulled out, feeling shaky" and move on. If that's all the detail you need, I'd just close this entry and wait for the next blog, honestly.
I am always careful about giving this disclaimer as about two to three minutes after someone begins telling me about any sort of medical procedure I had not specifically asked to hear about, I begin rooting for the Grim Reaper.
"Please come kill this boring person!"
EXPLANATION
Sharp eyed readers may notice that some of the worlds are highlighted. This is to make it easier for people who English is not their first (or fifth, whatever) language to be able to understand some of the more obscure terms I use.
WARNING
This blog contains some pictures which may make the reader projectile vomit onto their computer screen. Read at your own discretion.
PREQUEL
For the last couple months, I'd been having some nasty diarrhea. Long time fans of the blog will know that is about as common as me going to a new country. However, this was a lot more persistent.
After a couple months, it was time to go in to see the doctor.
FIRST THE PRICES
Wanted to get these out of the way instead of holding them behind my back like a lame magician.
I forget exactly what the doctor (with all the tests) cost but it was under a hundred. In fact, all of this stuff I'm going to write about totals out to under $500 USD. For those from the USA, that amount of money is amazingly low, for those from what I personally consider more civilized countries (those with universal health care - just my opinion) will think that amount is 'crazy high'.
Also, yes, this was after haggling down. It was about $60 less plus I got meds and tests thrown in for free instead of ala cart. The actual price for just the surgery was 10,000 UAH for stay and surgery plus 1,000 UAH as a bribe (yes, really, not kidding) to the head of the department. Because I am familiar with bribery (and have done it quite often for very minor things) I didn't do the 'indignant foreigner' thing. I just said "So instead of the initial 15,000 UAH, we're down to 11,000 UAH? Deal." Always, always, always haggle. (If you are bad at it or embarrassed to do it, either be rich or have friends with you that can do it.)
I did also try to haggle for a solo room. Was told they didn't have any. Got a solo room anyway. Two beds in it but putting other people with 'the foreigner' doesn't fly with them.
ANALYSIS OF THE PROBLEM
Step one, Sergey and Roksana (after doing a bunch of research) found a close by hospital. We went in there and they did an ultrasound.
I asked if my baby was going to be OK.
Turns out no.
There was a 1mm big stone in there. Until I saw it when they yanked it out, I didn't think that was that big. Now, I think 'holy crap'.
Sergey distrusted this doctor. He thought he was along the 'smile but don't help you' as opposed to 'gruff but helps you' type. They only have those two different types here. Nobody who is nice can help you, I guess?
Plus, this doctor did NOT want to operate on me. He wanted me to wait till I got to the UK. Operating on foreigners here - risky. He was not up for it.
A couple days later, the pain and shitting had increased. According to the internet 'chronic diarrhea' is crapping three times a day. So I have triple chronic or some shit.
So Sergey and Roksana went back to researching even calling the landlord of the place I am renting. When I asked "Oh god, why?" it is because he has contacts. Old people have more contacts. Apparently he (might) know someone at the State Hospital. They operate on foreigners there.
Disclaimer: I'm not sure if I was the first or if a foreigner had ever been operated on there. Nobody mentioned it and usually people love to tell me about things like that.
The hospital is actually older than Logan so in another forty years, it will be (according to American standards) an antique.
Reminds me a bit of a school I went to in the 70's.
If the one working elevator breaks, you are fucked.
Grab a rack! Note that an hour afterward, I got moved to a different room.
No, this is not for 'fun time'. These beds do not go up or down - or even really move. So if you want to pull your ass up into a sitting position, here's yer rope!
WHAT TO BRING TO THE HOSPITAL
Fucking everything. The only thing you should really expect the hospital to supply is 'some of the stuff they will use for the surgery and that's about it'. Towels? Soap? Toilet paper after you've been given a mixture guaranteed to make you shit out literally everything inside of you? NO. (Though in my case the surgeon was actually super nice and went and got me some.)
Where are you suppose to get all of this shit?
Unlike in many people in the USA where people have moved well the hell away from their family or are unmarried and such, the family unit in Eastern Europe is a huge deal. The family is expected to bring all this stuff. In some hospitals they may even have to feed their relatives. When this happened to me back in Republic of Georgia, one of the nurses was kind enough to take some of my money out to get some horrible food for me at the market.
Gruel. No, I have no idea what was in it. Yes, of course I ate it.
Note that if you have special dietary concerns, you will have to pretty much bring all your own food. You may even be considered 'weird', 'picky' or 'extra delicate' if you are a vegan, vegetarian, etc. You can try to get around this in some countries by claiming a religious insanity. But in the hospital, honestly I'm not sure. BYOF.
THE PEOPLE (STAFF, DOCTORS, ETC)
Except for one lady (just one) everyone else there was super nice to me. Being a foreigner when you are well away from anything 'touristy' is big clout.
Rather than trying to take advantage of it (yes, locals haggle as well) I try to pay for their kindness by making them laugh and trying to entertain them just a little bit. Their jobs are hard, icky and pay for shit here. So I try to give them at least a smile for the day.
WHO SPOKE ENGLISH?
Well, after Sergey & Roksana had to leave (these guys work hard for their money and put a lot of hours into it) it suddenly turned out that the surgeon's English was 'just fine'.
This is part of an infuriating problem I've seen in loads of countries. Unless someone speaks 'perfect' English (or thinks they do) they are super reluctant to speak any. Hell, I know 20-30 works of Russian and I use those daily. And I am often told I mispronounce some of them.
Once you slaughter their language enough, I find that either the people begin to feel they're not going to be made fools of for some piffling grammatical error or they want revenge for what you did to their language. Either way, with about half of the people you can eventually get them to work with you.
GOOGLE TRANSLATE
But google translate really kicked ass.
Tips for using Google translate in the real world:
Short statements only. For some reason, the longer your statement is (even if comprised of different sentences) the more crazy the translation gets. No idea why this is.
Simple statements only. Try to say it in such a way that it cannot be misunderstood.
No catch phrases or sarcasm. Blunt and direct only.
And other patients got press ganged into translating. I tried to make up for it by later going into their room, chatting with them. It ended up being a whole bunch of staff in there as I was telling a funny story. Not nearly as cool as the scene from the movie 'What About Bob' but Bill Murray I am not.
THE REAL COST
I'm sure a lot of people out there would say "I would never want to get X surgery outside of the USA!"
How much money is just the surgery worth to you?
How much to be able to understand doctors and nurses with more accuracy?
How much for a very nice looking hospital room?
Is it worth tens of thousands of dollars? Bankruptcy?
To some people, perhaps. To me, that's 'crazy talk'. I try to stick with what I can actually afford.
AND NOW, THE PICTURES
I buried them down here so that nobody would accidentally see them. You really have to want to see this stuff if you're scrolling down this far.
They don't have 'straws' at this hospital. They found a way around it.
I felt a bit sorry for the nurse that had to shave my belly. It was hairy - and vast.
After I checked in and paid (gots to pay first!), the surgeon went out and bought this. "What is that?" Logan asked. "Everything needed for your surgery." he said and left it in my room. Wow.
So I'm just laying there in the bed and all the sudden four nurses come charging in with some sort of 1940's type of machine with sucker cups on it. I have NO idea what is going on. They stick them to me. I convince them to take a photo of me. They do. Then, they take all the stuff and leave. I'm sure the machine did something useful - I just don't know what. Or care. The photo is enough.
Of all the weird painful shit that happened, this was the one that initially scared me the most. I've been told (by the wise Sergey) that basically this translates into a request for them to do surgery on me. CYOA.
A couple of the wonderful staff that work there. The taller one began pulling out what looked like hand made boxes which I immediately took pictures of. Turns out she was trying to sell these. Because men do not typically use/need/want/understand such things, I totally missed that, said "Lovely - I will take some pictures of them." and did so. Here they are:
AND NOW, THE GROSS SHIT
They had me walk into the operating room wearing only a T-shirt. No underwear. Bit awkward but I remembered the wise words of many nurses before "You have nothing we've not seen hundreds of times." Which is true. The above is a great example why when they tell you that you should keep your shirt on you should say "Fuck that!" Funny fact - this is my Miskatonic University shirt - so now it has just a bit more horror.
Most painful memory within this hospital - I was actually fighting against the nurses when I first came out of the operating room. Not really a conscious decision - I was just in blinding pain. I was trying to lie on my side hoping it would decrease it. All of them managed to hold me down. Bad times. Was that the most physical pain I'd ever been in? Not sure - top ten for sure.
And now, the slow ramp up of 'stuff Logan found had been done to him while he was unconscious'.
I don't know (or particularly care) what all these tubes were for.
Finding this big ass thing, partially filled with blood is now hanging off you - not good.
And bigger!
And THIS was what it was all about. Photographed next to an aspirin. I really thought it would be the shape and size of a rattlesnake's tail. Especially given what it felt like. Is this the whole thing or just the stone? I have no idea.
HOW DID I LEAVE THE HOSPITAL?
Honestly, I pretty much just walked out. The doctor had told me the day before that the next day I'd be checking out. And then he disappeared.
No information on how to not catch an infection, what to do with my bandages, etc.
After being told I'd be discharged 'in the morning' and waiting till close to four PM, I asked the nurses if I needed any anti-biotics (etc) - they said no, I left. No paperwork, etc. Totally different than most hospitals.
They did ask if I was going to take the unused needles and chemicals. The ones that I had no idea what they were for, how to use them, etc. No. I'll do a follow up visit here in five days then maybe another follow up when I get to the UK.
AND THE KICKER
On my way out, I ran into (not literally) an ancient guy who was there getting something else out. He showed it to me. It was way cooler and scarier looking than whatever the hell they pulled out of me. I have no idea why this hospital sends people home with shit that came out of them but they do!
AND AFTER I GOT HOME
More fuckery. (Yes, my friends this is a real word!)
I felt like I was going to pass out. Nearly shit myself. Slammed my fingers in a door on accident. Had gone in the hard rain to the store a three blocks away. Told a guy I needed plastic wrap. He pointed out paper wrap that looked just like fucking plastic wrap.
пластик plastik - Russian
пластик plastyk - Ukrainian
Note - it sounds the same. Hence, I now think the guy I asked - who works there - may be a bit dim. Ah well.
Since I was given no information about what to do with my bandaged wounds and apparently buying plastic wrap to cover them is not possible (who the fuck uses paper to cover their food?) I chopped up a shopping bag and used some tape I'd liberated (took) from the hospital. The tape was part of my 'bag of shit' so all good.
IN CONCLUSION
Yes, it was a bit of suffering. Yes, it did feel a bit like 'Doctor Nick' as Joseph O. pointed out on Facebook. But I could afford it. And I'm happy to have survived.
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