Relatively painless BLOOD TEST @ MDC

This week started with a nagging feeling that my resident registration card was going to expire soon. I brought it in for the departmental secretary to check the dates (I can't read it). Oops. It seemed it had expired a week ago. I gave it (along with a photo) to the gentleman who takes care of these things for foreign staff. He came back a few hours later to let me know that it seemed that the Asaish (special police) had lost my file and required me to have another blood test. And me being so squeamish of needles.

Luckily, the venue for blood tests has changed. My first year at the university, so many staff complained that they didn't want to be poked and prodded with needles in a filthy environment by hands wearing surgical gloves that had been on when the wearer emptied the trash, a nurse came to the university and took all of our blood in a classroom! This time (yesterday), I was driven to the Medya Diagnostic Center next to New City shopping center. By local medical establishment standards, this place was really clean. I was beginning to relax. Then a man came to get me for my test. He was wearing surgical gloves and signing some papers. The green ink had gotten all over the palm of his gloved hand. Then he led me to the blood-drawing room. He cleared a small table of trash and lifted the lid of the can with his gloved hand. Hmmm.... and just when I had started to relax. Anyway, then a young woman comes in, takes off her gloves, puts on a fresh pair and starts prodding my arm for veins. I breathe a sigh of relief. Even better yet, the first prick of the needle and the sliding of it into the vein didn't really hurt at all. But that didn't stop me from being tense and nervous to the degree that I was faint by the time she told me it was over. I had to ask for a glass of water until the wave of dizziness passed, my hearing came back and vision returned to normal. (Yes, I know this is melodramatic, but I was really nervous). It was only about a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity.

Anyway, I was feeling quite good about this new diagnostic center... until I recounted this tale to a colleague last night only to be told that she had gone there for some tests and was misdiagnosed. Sigh. Why burst my bubble?

Unexpected connections

Today I got up early and responded to an email I had received the night before... from Catherine, a former colleague from Vancouver, BC who I hadn't seen since 1996 when I met up with her in Vietnam where she was working (The time before that was in 1993 in Japan where I was working). Being still sore from my surgery, we arranged to meet in Ortaköy as it is only a 5 minute taxi ride from Beşiktaş. A few days ago, she was in Romania and I never imagine she would get though Romania, Bulgaria and reach Istanbul on time to meet up with me... I mean, this was no easy feat as she came almost the entire way by bicycle! (She arrived with bike in Amsterdam in June). Along with another traveling friend she met alone the way, we were 3 Vancouverites enjoying a late breakfast and Turkish coffee in Istanbul. Wonderful! It remains to be seen whether Catherine takes my advice and takes her bike to Northeast Turkey and cycles on down to Iraq. She would likely be the first female Vancouverite to cycle through the Turkish border into Iraq! How cool would that be?

And this meeting with Catherine wasn't the only surprise. In truth, I expected to be on my own this trip to Istanbul. I had arranged a hotel in Taxim and brought enough work to occupy myself the whole 5 days in Turkey. It was not to be so... from the time I arrived in Ataturk Airport, it was one unexpected connection after another. In the airport, I ran into Fadime (not real name) a friend of a friend- a Turkish divorcee living in Hawler who was traveling to Turkey with her new husband, an Arab man also living in Iraq. I saw her in the Erbil Airport, but hadn't recognized her with the headscarf, a new custom she has adopted to fit in better with her husband's family. We had a nice chat before I headed to my hotel.

The next day as I was heading to the hospital for my consultation, I received a call from Gokhan, the boyfriend of Tz who informed me that Tz was NOT in Italy, but in Istanbul and that I should come to their house to stay instead of the hotel.

And tomorrow I take a taxi to the airport at 4:30 am as there are no seats on the Istanbul-Erbil flight and I will have to fly to Mardin and travel overland from there... But Mu will meet me on the Iraqi side of the border and take me to Hawler... where S (another Canadian) is waiting. You will remember her from many earlier blog posts: she is the Kurdish-speaking one with the mermaid-styled Kurdish dress who met me in Puerto Rico this summer. I never imagined she would miss Hawler so much that she would return just 3 months after leaving.

Jinemed - Medical Tourism Center

This is medical tourism at its most effective. It takes all of 3 days for your operation! To the left is Dr. Teksan Camlibel. On Wednesday afternoon, I was ushered into Dr. Teksan's office for my consultation (where I discovered the objects in my abdominal cavity which needed removing had grown even bigger). He explained the operation procedure while I admired the certificates on the wall behind him. While normally, I don't find this kind of display of achievements impressive, I found it somewhat comforting that Dr. Camlibel had graduated from John Hopkin's Medical University and had worked in the hospital there as well as others in Michigan and Ohio.
The next morning (day 2), I arrived at the hospital at 8:30am. The nurses sedated me, prepped me and I woke up from the operation at about 12:30pm in my fairly comfortable and very clean hospital room. Every 2 hours or so, nurses came to take blood, administer antibiotics, change IV bags or help me unhook the IV to use the restroom. I enjoyed an afternoon/evening of sleeping (so very sleepy) and watching US TV (ER, Desperate Housewives, A Side Order of Life, CNN news of the elections and various weird shows on BBC Prime).
At 5:00am on Saturday (day 3), I insisted the nurses take out the IV as the morphine was ineffective and the IV hurt more than the incision sites. At about 8:30am Dr. Camlibel came to visit me to check the healing. He said that everything looked normal and that I could leave whenever I felt well enough. The nurse gave me all the paperwork... which was quite funny. On every very official looking paper, my name was spelled differently and on one of the papers, it gave my complete address in Erbil... but with the country listed as "Almanya" (Germany). Thank goodness the operation was done with more care than the paperwork.
Anyway, at noon I got up for a shower and got ready to leave. Unfortunately, my friend whose house I was staying at had gone to Bulgaria to cover a story for La Stampa Italian newspaper. At 7:00pm, I got dressed and packed, ordered food and at 11:00pm (when I got a text from Tz saying she was almost home), I finally left the hospital - just a little over 2 days from start to finish.

To Travel... or Not to Travel to Turkey for Surgery

Yes, I am back in Turkey... again. And yet again, it is for "medical tourism". This time, not for dental work, but for surgery. Some people are angry at me for not wanting or being willing to have surgery in Erbil, but I find this ridiculous as it seems that those Hawleris that can afford it also opt for Iran (not an option for me with as I would have visa issues). It seems also that my medical "insurance" only covers health care outside if it cannot be performed in the region of Kurdistan.

My issue is not really the skill of the doctor, although unless you know someone who knows someone, finding a good doctor can also be an issue. My issue is the sterility of of the operating theater. I went for a scan at the clinic of a very reputable (and very skilled) doctor in Erbil. However, when receiving the scan, I was asked to lie down on the pleather bench that the woman before me had been on (without it being cleaned in between or paper put down on it). The ultrasound wand? The same... The other woman's gel was wiped off with a paper towel and new gel applied. Meanwhile, as I lay with my midsection exposed, women on the other side of the screen were peering around to see what was going on. Having lived overseas for so long, my need for privacy has become somewhat dulled, but I don't think I could stand this sort of invasion in the fragile state I would be in post-surgery.

I left for Istanbul on Wednesday night. My flight was packed and I started to worry what the flight back would be like - jostled and shoved as people push to get in and out of customs, push to get on and off the bus to the plane, and push on and off the plane. It really irks me that on a flight from Erbil to Istanbul, that the only languages spoken on the plane are ENGLISH and TURKISH. OK, so Sorani is not the national language of Iraq? Then at least provide Arabic. Then at least some people would know what was going on and how to form lines. I started to wonder if traveling for surgery was the smartest thing after all. At least if I had the surgery in Erbil, there would be people to visit me in the hospital and I wouldn't have to travel far to go home. Then at the moment I had that thought, the guy beside me took the napkin off his meal tray, rolled it up and proceeded to clean his ears, after which he dropped the napkin in the seat pocket in front of him. OK, I think I may have made the right choice not to have my insides opened up in Hawler.

Worst Weekend in Turkey Ever

As I am writing this post in retrospect, I think my view on this trip to Turkey may have changed somewhat. It was hectic and none too fun... I arrived in Istanbul only to run around to all the airlines and try to find the cheapest ticket to Ankara available. Unfortunately, none were too cheap and I ended up on Turkish Airlines because at least they offered a cheaper rate for return tickets. I arrived late and night and while trying to flag a taxi to the nice hotel I booked in Kızılay, Mu called. he insisted I go to this particular hotel his friend did business with in Ulus - the neighborhood furthest from the Cuban embassy (getting a tourist visa for Cuba being the only reason for visiting Ankara).

On this trip, I had one day to get the visa and return to Istanbul. In Istanbul, I had to go to Taxim, find a hotel, drop my stuff and get to the dentist's office to have my root canal finished. In the afternoon of the same day, I had another doctor's appointment. (There are certain kinds of check ups that I simply refuse to have done in "Kurdistan" (Sorry to my Turkish blog-posting objector to the word "Kurdistan", but let's face it, it is a much more apt description of where I live than simply "Iraq"). I thin rushed back to my hotel to try and pick up a package that I was unable to pick up the last time I was in Istanbul.... OH, and let's not forget a rushed trip to the Mac shop to pick up a new power cord for my laptop... a "steal" at only 70 GBP! (just wish I were the one getting away with the steal!

The following day, I was to fly home only to find my flight was cancelled... as usual. I then went early the next morning to find that Cresta Tours gave me the wrong flight time and that it was actually an evening flight. Ah well, I took a cab to Ataköy and found a nice movie theater in a mall with Lazy Boy recliners to grab a couple of hours nap in. After that, I visited another shopping center to window shop and discovered the first Banana Republic I have ever seen in Turkey!

Anyway, I saw that it may not be the worst visit ever as I have another coming up in about a week... a visit during which I must not only undergo surgery (routine as it may be), but spend the night in the hospital. I hope that it isn't like Taiwanese hospitals where you are required to bring your own soap, toilet paper and food.

Diş Doktoru

So in case you weren't aware, the real reason for my trip to Istanbul is that I am distrustful of the dentists in Hawler. I suppose this isn't such a nice things to say, but as Dr. T quit Sema Hospital on Doctor's street, I haven't felt at all inclined to go. Ok, so why not just not go to the dentist at all you might ask. Well, before quitting, Dr. T told me that I was likely in urgent need of a root canal. And indeed the dentist here told me that something has induced trauma and hence nerve damage has caused infection which could spread and damage other roots. They did half the job and I must return for the other half in 4-5 weeks... so I guess you will be reading more about Istanbul again soon.

PS. Have you ever heard of dental tourism?

Amerikan Hastanesi

After being almost a year in Kurdistan, where I was afriad to go to see a doctor when sick, I headed promply to the hospital yesterday when it was clear I was sick. I have had a chronic throat problem anyway, so it wouldn't be a wasted visit to go for my cold... or so I thought. I asked around and everyone seemed to think the American Hospital in Nişantaşı was the one most people recommended. I taxied there, feeling worse and worse minute by minute, but the wait at the hospital was surprising short. I went directly to the ear, nose and throat section and was seen within 15 mintutes. The doctor spoke English and seemed a little sad to inform me that he believed the American Hospital to be the best that Turkey had to offer (am I to infer that to him it was still somewhat lacking?) Anyway, it was clean and smoke free, so I was happy. I was also happy to hear that my throat problem was not an infection, nor was it cancer, but it was irritated. Unfortunately, the cause was determinted to be environmental... Meaning I need to identify whatever causes the problem and avoid it. Could it be Iraqi dust? Diesel exhaust?

The bad news of my hospital visit is that without health insurance, a 10 minute consultation with a doctor costs 140 YTL (about $120 USD). Sigh. And this was just to get a prescription for an over-the-counter cold/flue remedy and some super-strength lozenges. Anyway, I spent ALL DAY today in bed with a fever, bad cough and runny nose. Not such a nice thing when on vacation, especially since - as always - I have left all the things I really want to do till the last minutes: visit Dolmabaçe Palace and Hagia Sophia, catch some of the exhibits for the Biennale and maybe watch a movie in the cinema (there are movie theatres here!), shop for clothes (non-synthetic) and books... I think that is mostly it. Tomorrow I will go to Turkish lessons, but having missed a day and having done no homework. Should be fun. Till later, Ciao!

Failure to wave

This post really needs a picture (I promise one as soon as I fix my camera). Prominantly near the middle of major intersections in Hawler, there are little boxes where traffic police (or are there special titles for people who direct traffic?) stand.

Recently, after an unsuccessful attempt to get one of our students admitted to the Korean hospital (we didn't have a pass to get in), we were leaving the long dirt road that leads out of the Korean military base and back onto the road when a traffic cop stopped us. RE, the driver, was asked for his license and registration... then he allowed us to travel on our way. As we drove away, I asked RE why we had been pulled over. Even though it doesn't seem to be a law here, we were even wearing seatbelts. There seem in fact to be so few road rules that I couldn't begin to imagine why, with our very responsible driver, we had been stopped. It appears that before pulling onto the road, RE failed to wave at the officer.

Unpleasant and Highly Dirty (Friday, Oct 27th)

This was a comment on the food of in local street restaurants by one of the university staff... Perhaps that is why I had a bit of bit of a nasty day? The evening before I started feeling less than hot. At 2:00am, I had to get up for a small bout of projectile vomiting (no exageration)… and then again at 4:00am. The rest of the night was spent fighting the urge, although it probably would have been better to get whatever it was out of my system- some kind of virus undoubtedly. As I am not prone to vomiting, the cold sweat and faintness were unsettling. By morning (7:30) I was exhausted and texted S and T to ask to let them know I was ill (so they might help me get to the Korean hospital – apparently the best in the city). G, who actually knows where the hospital is, has no cell phone... and A, who speaks Kurdish, was clearly still sleeping. As it turns out, T was off to meet a friend – a human rights activist and editor of a left-leaning newspaper. I would love to tell you his story, but I am not at liberty in this public space. But S (although possibly disappointed we couldn’t go to the bazaar as planned) took care of me and I didn’t go to the hospital.