Overly personal global health experience, part III

(a Tajik bus. Photo credit: Alan Cordova)

I am still processing everything that happened over the last four days. An emergency appendectomy is not an especially scary operation, but an emergency appendectomy in the developing world is a scary thing indeed. Now that my father is home and recovering, I'm trying to sort out what I learned from the whole experience, and what might be useful for this blog. You'll be getting a series of scattered observations over the next few days, and, I hope, eventually some kind of useful wrap-up post. I'll keep on with normal content as well so the blog isn't all about me, me, me. (well, at least no more than usual.)

Two more scattered thoughts:

1.       My dad was disoriented and needed family nearby in case he woke up, so the head doctor kindly let me stay in her office overnight. I got up every couple of hours and walked down the hall to the ICU to check on my father. I have been in a lot of head doctors' offices for a lot of meetings. Sleeping on the couch in one was so surreal it was almost impossible to comprehend. The inversion bordered on nauseating.

2.       The attitude of your health care provider makes a huge difference. My mother was instantly reassured by the courtesy and confidence of the Tajik surgeons, and their genuine concern for my father. In an environment where she spoke no local language and her husband was in danger, the doctors took the time to use their few English words with her, to say "all okay!" and give her a thumbs up. As a result, she was far less frightened than she could have been.