Hospital in Krivoy Rog

One thing that I love to do after I get home from a trip is to take a nice hot bath to relax my muscles. And that is exactly what I did. After my bath, I went to bed, but I could not sleep because of the pain that was going through my body. Because I found some relief during my bath, I decided to try again - but the second bath did nt help and I found, much to my dismay, that the pain was actually getting worse.

One thing that I have not yet mentioned is that my wife, Denise, was in America for two months (from June 27th until August 28th) visiting and helping her parents. Once she was able to fly to the US (after some COVID restrictions were lifted in June), we got approval for her to fly home, bought round trip tickets, and she left.

So here I am, early in the morning of my birthday, laying on the couch in agony. I start thinking what could be wrong with me and, as things go, it seemed that I could possibly have appendicitis. 56 is kind of old for that, I thought, but I feel like I have to have some idea of what is going on.

I called our good friend and landlady, Sveta, about 1:30 AM and said, "I am so sorry, but I think my appendix is acting up and I need an ambulance". She asked a few questions and called the ambulance. And this is where you Americans are going to be SHOCKED.

Disclaimer: I want you to know that I do not share any of this information about my experience with Ukrainian public health care to criticize. Rather, it is to inform my American friends about how good we have it in America. The terrible medical system in Ukraine is not the fault of the people we love! And there are private options, which we use in Kiev on a regular basis!

When the ambulance came in the next 15 minutes or so (relatively quickly, I thought), two ladies came into the house, asked a lot of questions, poked at my sore lower abdomen, and said that they would take me. Then came the first shocker - I needed to gather my things. Things, what things?  Oh, just basics - like a pillow, sheets, towel (although no shower will be available), soap to wash my hands, water to drink, toilet paper, and whatever else I might need. WHAT? I need to bring my own sheets. Now at 2:00 AM or so, after having been gone for over a week straight, I hardly knew where anything in my house was, let alone clean sheets.

God bless Sveta. She was such a help. She went to her house (right behind ours) to get me clean sheets. And found the other things that I needed in my house. And then carried the bag with my stuff to the ambulance for me. That was where the help stopped. I had to step up into the higher vehicle unaided and in pain. We drove to a hospital (I had no idea where we were going), parked, and the ladies and I got out - with me, the sick and hurting person carrying my bag of stuff. No wheelchair. No help. I had to carry that stuff down a long corridor to a place where a doctor came to look at me. Not in an examination room, right there in the office in front of God and everyone. And the workers were all grumpy because if someone comes in, they have to wake up and do something with that person. So I was an interruption to their sleep. That knowledge made me realize that finding help was not going to be easy.

That doctor was sure that I did not have appendicitis, which made me glad, but then the question of what was going on started lurking louder in my head. He said that the hospital could not help me, and that I needed to go to a different hospital, a more central hospital.

So once more I, the sick and hurting person, carried my bag of stuff down the long corridor back to the ambulance, where this time I had to put my own bag inside and step up unaided into the vehicle. And we drove to the other hospital where again I did not know where we were. After parking the ambulance, the two ladies and I repeated the process from the first hospital. I, the sick and hurting person, carried my bag down yet another long corridor to an office where the sleepy doctor would come and talk to us and examine me. And everywhere we went, everyone felt compelled to push on my lower right abdomen and ask if it hurt when they did that. It was becoming ridiculous! Of course it did, because that was why I came!

This doctor was pretty ornery and just said that he could not receive me because he had too many patients coming in from different hospitals (remember, this is the "central" hospital). They needed to take me back to the first hospital. This is where one of the ambulance ladies started advocating for me, and I was a bit impressed. It did not change anything, but she tried. And for me, that was a very special moment. 

Once again the ladies and I returned down that long corridor with me carrying my bag back to the ambulance. This time one of them had an idea, so one of them stayed in the ambulance with my bag, and we went to talk to a urologist at this hospital. Maybe that would change something. This doctor had me pee in a cup, asked a bunch of questions, but in the end still sent me back to the first hospital.

Back at the first hospital, this sick and hurting guy once again grabbed his bag of stuff and carried it down the long corridor back to the office where hopefully I would be checked in so I could go to bed. The pain had lessened a little, although no one had done a thing to help me out with that.

I had to have a COVID test, of course. A lady came to take some blood from my finger and, while I expected a nice poking instrument like people in the US use for checking their blood sugar, she sliced the end of one finger with a (hopefully clean) straight razor. And again I had to pee in a cup, well, actually a reusable jar this time around.

This office lady did all her paperwork in typical post-Soviet efficiency (hand written and with accuracy), and then I had to have an ultrasound. This is a handy and yet somewhat (in my humble opinion) overused tool in Ukraine. But had one I did - and they found something "suspsicious" in my abdomen. There I got in trouble because I did not have my towel with me, but that was back in the bag in the ambulance. I reminded the lady that I was sick and hurting and very tired.

Back at the office, we headed with my bag in tow to what I thought might be my room and bed. But we had one more surprise along the way - a chest x-ray. I am not 100% sure why on this, but it seems that they check everyone pretty close for TB. The x-ray lady yelled at me because I did not follow her instructions properly. I reminded her that I was tired, sick, and hurting (not to mention I was trying to think in a second language all that time). I got my x-ray, though I never heard about the results, and we continued down the hallway.

Interesting that everyone was saw was very fascinated with my large legs, normally chewed me out for not coming in to do something about those things, but then in the end no one did anything about either my legs or my abdomen pain. Strange.

I was surprised to see mercy in this office lady's actions next. She actually carried my bag for me. Perhaps I was walking too slowly down the next long corridor, and she could not take it. I do now know. We finally made it to the room that I would be in.

There were 5 beds. No curtains. 2 beds had occupants. And I was to choose the one remaining one that I wanted. I chose and laid down - but only after I, the sick and hurting person made my bed so that I could lay down. I was not laying on that mattress without some covering. Gross. (During my stay I saw what I expected - no cleaning of the beds between patients). Someone brought me an ice pack for the pain in my lower right abdomen. And that would be all that I received for my pain. It was already 5 AM and I slept until about 8 AM. Of course, in the morning most of us need to find a bathroom, and I was no exception.

So I asked my roommates where the bathroom was located. They told me (no surprise here) at the end of the corridor. So I, with lower back pain and large legs, wandered down the hall in search of the bathroom. Silly me, but I expected a men's and a women's, though I was part right. There were two stalls in one bathroom - one was marked for men and the other for women. And there was a sink in the corner that did not work. So I went back to my room to wash my hands in the (thankfully working) sink there and laid back down.

In the hospital, there was no A/C (so I was thankful that it was not supposed to be 100 degrees that week), no Wi-Fi, no comforts, and my telephone internet could not even find me. My mattress was so thin that it was little better than a blanket. The doctors who came told me that I had lymphoma and one told me to return to America for treatment (every time he saw me).

Because of coronavirus, I also could have no visitors. Sveta was kind enough to bring me food, even though I was not very hungry, because they have no food service there. She had to go to the pharmacy to buy the things the doctor requested, because there is no onsite pharmacy in the hospital. What a different world this was!

One of my two roommates left almost right away Wednesday morning, and my other roommate had a surgery in the afternoon. Remember I said that there were no curtains? Well, I got to watch a nurse put a catheter in him - and it was pure agony for him. I saw the look of horror on his face and heard the anger in his voice after that experience.

I begged the doctor to let me go home for the night. Not because I wanted to have cell group (had already cancelled that), but because I wanted to communicate with the outside world on my birthday and especially with my wife. He refused to let me leave because "what if you have that pain come back?" (I thought that it made no difference, since they had done nothing but an ice pack for my pain the night before. At least I had ibuprofen at home.)

But I did not just lay there and feel sorry for myself. I slept quite a bit. And God's presence was very real to me as I just did nothing. He reminded me of a story in the Bible, found in Genesis 16. In verse 13 (NLT), we read this, "Thereafter, Hagar used another name to refer to the Lord, who had spoken to her. She said, “You are the God who sees me.”" Even in my situation, no matter how strange, alone, and difficult, God saw me right where I was. He had not forgotten about me!

Miracle of all miracles, my phone internet started working when I was going to sleep about 10 PM on my birthday. And it worked the rest of the time until I left the hospital early Friday morning, making Thursday a little easier to bear.

Sveta brought me food twice a day. The second day I also had her bring me some comforters to soften up my bed. The lady who received my food and other things from Sveta was not going to allow them to pass, but Sveta pressured her because of the bad beds - and I was so thankful for just a little more softness under my very sore and achy body. And what would I have done without Sveta. She talked to the doctor regularly on my behalf and really was a great advocate for me. The system there really is impossible to navigate, but she has lots of experience because she raised a son with severe asthma.

The doctor was convinced that if I left the hospital, I would be unable to get a CT scan soon, so my best bet was to stay until Friday morning and then I could go home after my CT scan. OK, I can endure one more night. By this time I am thinking that a shower would be really nice - but that was out of the question.

Thursday morning I learned that I needed a catheter. And I started panicking. What in the world do I need a catheter for? I started thinking of every reason in the world why I did not need that nurse to shove a catheter into me. And then I learned something about the wonderful Russian language. The word catheter is used for the more traditional "foley" catheter. But the same word translated cathether is used for an IV port - and that is the one that I needed. They were going to put some contrast in my system during the CT scan - and therefore I needed that type of "catheter" put in on Thursday evening. You cannot imagine the relief that came over me at that moment of realization!

I endured one more night and 7 AM found me packing my things and leaving the hospital. Other than the icepack that they gave me for my pain early Wednesday morning, they gave me a couple of antibiotic shots (for what, I do not know), and a couple of bags of saline solution (which to Denise and I seemed to just add to my problem rather than helping them). No blood work.  No vitals checks. Just laying in the hospital for two days. Or my local hell-hole, as I decided to call it. But I was so thankful that the doctor agreed to let me go home after my CT scan. Sveta and her Dad (because Sveta's car had broken down) met me and we went back to the second hospital for the CT scan.

My experience there was pretty normal, as CT scans go, but I am pretty sure that the imaging equipment was far from state of the art. After we were done, I paid cash for the CT scan - 1600 UAH or about $58. The doctor lady promised my report later that day (which we actually received on the 15th). It showed that I had swollen lymph nodes but the cause was not evident. I had already been in contact with my regular doctor in Kiev, so once I had the report in hand, I emailed it to him and waited for his instructions of what to do next. And I was so very thankful that this chapter of my medical life was over. I would need to be dying before I ever returned to a public Ukrainian hospital again.