Being Ill in Bulgaria

Seeing people of my own age around me draws me to compare health. Of course you can't tell how healthy a person is just by looking at them. however you can see how they walk, posture and general body language to give you clues to their wellbeing. One of my great pastime is people watching anyway so when my focus is on someone akin to my age there is bound to be comparisons with myself.

We all have been ill at some point and now it was my turn for a change. Pain is something I can bear when I am in control such as pushing myself physically on my bike or cycling, but pain caused by illness is at the very least an intolerable scenario.

As you get older you put up with aches and pains, it grows upon you gradually that is acceptable it is a message reminding you you're getting older and can't run around like a spring chicken anymore. That doesn't mean you become stagnant, just more careful with excursions for example proper warming up and warming down before and after exercising or thinking first before running for a bus or picking up that heavy box. It took some painful experiences to come to terms with that way.

Well now back in Bulgaria and putting up with a painful left hand for months, which I put down to a history of tension initially taking up the viola after puberty, (long story). Then working in Bulgaria full time in a boiler factory in Bulgaria back in 2007, basically with an active drill in my hand 8 hours a day (I'm left handed). The latter did the most damage. I started up the piano again for a least and hour a day a few months ago and the left hand was giving me problems with tension and stress which gradually got worse, but I persevered. Perhaps I should have read the signs and given it a break. On top of this my cycling requires hours on end of grip on the handlebars, which doesn't do the wrist any favours especially when the weather turned a little damper and colder. So come the end of November it wasn't very comfortable at all.

The Barrels That Did The Damage

27th November arrived and it was the evening before Rakia Making Day. I had to help get two big barrels full of fermented wine out of my garage and onto a van. It was a cold evening pouring with rain and I had been waiting for half an hour for the van to arrive on the street in these condition. A cold man with no head cover or gloves and soaked through with the thought of rakia making motivating him. The van duly arrived and as I began to lift the first barrel my left wrist cracked under the strain accompanied with a sharp dagger like pain. I worked through the pain on the second barrel and struggled with four heavy sacks of wood. That was it I thought, give it a rest overnight and will be fine in the morning. That evening I took a couple of paracetamol and an early night to bed for a 5:30 rise in the morning and very excited for the Rakia Making Day ahead.

The following morning on waking up before the alarm, I should have gone to the Doctor, but with the excitement and adrenalin of Rakia making in front of me I pushed through the pain and got through the process one-handed, including the driving to the village. It didn't end there, the pain was becoming very close to intolerable now and apples had to be peeling and cut to add to the fresh rakia crying out for them. Galia insisted she should do it but being the fool I am for some reason I have a compulsion for self-suffering and a steeped history for working through pain just for the hell of the challenge. The apples were duly albeit painfully prepared and my left wrist was now transformed into constant pain rather than intermittent with movement. Something quite wrong there now I thought. Still I will rest it overnight and tomorrow with no plans to do anything. It will be fine.

Bed at 11:00 and the pain now was constant increasing to the degree I couldn't sleep no matter what position my hand was in. By 02:30 I was at the end of my tether end and in tears with pain. The wrist was compressed by wrapping in a pair of socks around it to support, but that made no difference. The agony now was completely out of my control and that's where the decision was made to visit the hospital. But I was feeling light-headed and dizzy almost to the point of passing, so I reluctantly had to wake Galia who was in a deep sleep next to me for assistance.

A&E My First Hospital Call 2:30 am

A taxi was called and we arrived at the local hospital some 10 minutes later. I was seen immediately and examined thoroughly by a team of at least four Doctors in attendance with three nurses in turn. I was laid down on a bed and put on a drip for three hours. I was shaking from cold and nerves as they mentioned that I might be suffering from a stroke!! Bloody Hell was my reaction to that, after all the fitness I do and this? Can't be! I was left to ponder that for quite some time. During this time I was distracted by an argument right by the side of the bed I was lying on with a Gypsy Mother and Daughter demanding a prescription off the Doctor. The argument lasted ages and was very heated in the end they were ordered out of the treatment rooms and had to wait until the day shift started to be served. I found out that this was common that Gypsies often come at night with a free taxi service and free treatment and drugs just because they are treated differently to Bulgarians. they take advantage of this and when given the free drugs sell them on for 100% profit. We (or should I say Bulgarians) have to pay for taxis, medical treatment and prescriptions!) This incident however didn't detract me too much with the pain I was in and the shaking continued.

Second Hospital for X-Ray

5:00 in the morning and it was a transfer to another hospital, (with a taxi we paid for!) for an x-ray. This hospital was where Galia's Nephew works who I cycle with on occasion. We turned up and an x-ray was made within 10 minutes. Then it was another hospital for an examination from another specialist with addition tests to be made. Another taxi taken and now the third hospital in the space of 12 hours.

Third Call Yambol's Polyclinic

Whilst waiting to be seen, there were six other parties there all with the same appointment time of 16:30 to see one Doctor. How was that? I was examined and told that there was no stroke but probably just an infection and further blood tests would be taken early tomorrow morning. I was given a prescription two series of injections, (hate those!) one set of tablets, and a powder compound to be mixed with water and drunk. All this cost money including the visits and Doctors seen with tomorrow the promise of more costs. No avoiding this unless you are a Gypsy apparently. Doesn't matter that I'm British and paid National Insurance throughout my working life not that I expect any special treatment as a Brit. 

Current Medication!

Another night but this time I slept well after a bout of two injections one on each cheek and other prescribed medicine. I  was told no food or drink in the morning prior to the planned hospital tests and duly adhered to instructions turning up with a rumbling stomach. 

Fees paid for blood and urine specimen test although only blood was taken even though we paid for both. the queuing system here is absolute chaos and only though who have no scruples about running up to the treatment room get seen first. A classic case seen here where an overweight man crawled up the corridor as if it was his last walk on earth, then once the surgery door open he was an Olympic Athlete sprinted to the door and getting in before those who had been waiting for their turn. I find it strange that no one complains. I have been told to just keep quite in these situations as many Bulgarians are prejudice on finding out I'm English in confrontational situations. This advice has kept me out of trouble for years even though it is difficult not to express an opinion seeing what goes on..

The blood test was good, all normal, a relief and it was now time to continue with the given drugs and become a passive person for a week. No fitness, no piano, no work on repairs or rebuilding my bike and no driving. Difficult!

The Cost!

I'm feeling a lot better now, but am reminded again about how old I am and how I should behave. The total cost of this episode amounted to over 100 BG Lev. You just can't afford to be ill here without private health insurance which is something I cam considering right now. But will it get overlooked and on the backburner when I am fit again? Probably......That's what the vast majority of people do here in Bulgaria anyway, take it as it comes, they just don't have disposable income for a, What if?', scenario on health.

So now when I people watch and see individuals my age and compare health, I know that at any point in time health can change without warning, that doesn't stop you trying to look after yourself though to reduced the risk factor which I will continue to do. Beside I feel that investment in fitness is cheaper than investment in health insurance which I can 'Ill afford,' on my small pension here.

What If You're Sick In Bulgaria?

What happens if you are sick or ill here? There is no getting away from it, you have to pay money for treatment and medicine, no one is exempt. How much you pay depend on where you are from and who you know. There is no uniform in terms of medical treatment in Bulgaria.

I have written before about having family in the medical profession here, it really is a major advantage if you are fortunate enough to have some brains in the family. The vast majority of people here haven't of course and the fear of being ill is quite apparent. The crying for someone being ill, especially in the villages is for the lack of money to pay for treatment more than the patient.

There is another twist, being an expatriate. Doctors, hospitals, dentists and opticians will know straight away that you are an expatriate and there is a completely revised rate for treatment and medicine. This is besides the fact that there is a reciprocal agreement in the EU that all EU citizens have to be charged as Nationals of that country are charged. I have this written on an official document stating that law is in operation. This is Bulgaria, this does not go on here and you can't blame them. The pay to the medical profession for their services and funds put into to the medical profession are diabolical. If there is a chance of robbing the rich to give to the poor then this is a prime example of it. What's more if they can get away with it it will happen.

The problem with this is that some expatriates are poorer than the Bulgarians and that makes it totally unfair. What's more, there is medical insurance that is available that you can take out as an expatriate to cover medical expenses and it advised, especially to those that were ill and had to pay out extortionate medical bills. This again is okay is you can afford medical insurance, if you can't, then you have to take the risk of not being ill. If you are poor everything is against you in this world, Bulgaria is no exception.

The question is, what do you do if you are ill? Well if it is life threatening emergency treatment is free for all, beyond that you have to pay. So for the poor, after the emergency is over they will go back home and tended by amateur doctors, namely their families and try and gather enough funds for basic medication to keep them going. The problem is compounded if the patient was working and relying of that income, which now has dried up with the incapacity. There is no escape from more poverty in these instances. You can now understand why Bulgarian weep if illness strikes.

The Answer is Always Food in Bulgaria

Thanks to all those who sent get well messages.

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Whenever I am ill, for whatever reason, unless suffering form malnutrition of course, I lose my appetite. Either I don’t eat at all of very little; it’s just the way I am illness just make me lose my appetite. Being ill is rare for me anyway so the abstaining of food doesn’t happen that often, well actually it is never allowed to happen here in Bulgaria with the food driven society, in a country called the bread bucket of Europe. Every couple of hours there is food pile driven your way by Baba, it has been well documented since I have been here.

So with my slipped disc, there is another move along the Bulgarian learning curve. Whatever your disposition, food is the answer. Whether your fit or ill you have to eat and eat lots and often if you are a man. It is a constant battle fighting off food every minute of the day. The longer I go without food the more intense the food fight becomes, how ironic that this continuous food being making me mentally ill!

This morning two or three times an hour, every hour, I get approached with food on a plate that I had already said I don’t want and then there is a little sulk as it gets taken away again. Later in the morning another tactic, I get a peeled and sliced apple handed to me.

I say, “Thanks you very much, but I don’t feel like food right now.”

The comment replied was, “It’s not food it’s an apple!” I laugh and it hurts.

It is almost like being force fed but not quite there; it gets to the point where I get angry as the effort it takes to keep refusing is immense and with back pain always there my temper rises slightly into a nervous laughter just like after the apple comment and laughter really hurts when you have a slipped disc.

Surely it would be better to just accept the food and be done with it is what I sometimes think. The pressure to take this route is tremendous and would solve everyone’s frustrations expect mine, after all, it is my choice whether to eat or not. Or is it?

The whole idea by trying to get me to eat, I know, is to try and get me better They firmly believe that eating lots of food is the best route to take when you are ill, evenif you are overweight. This is understandable and I know that they are 100% behind trying to the best they possibly can for me, unfortunately they don’t just have a difficult patient, but an English one.

Sick? Bulgarians Know Best

It is a sense of total frustration in Bulgaria when you are sick, times like this just can’t be avoided as everyone had a bout of illness at some point. It was my turn this week. How do the Bulgarians look after me? Too much fuss from my experience.

I had been ill before having impaled my foot with a pitch fork a couple of years ago, that was the last time I have had needed support. Even then I was fussed over from everyone, checking up every few hours doing all the chores I couldn‘t do on the farm, it was overbearing sometimes, but it was reassuring that the community would never let you be ill on your own.

After screwing my Lada headlamps back in – they had come loose driving over the pot-holed Yambol roads twice a day – I leant down to check the headlight windscreen wiper and in tandem with a big crack there was a sudden burst of pain in my lower back. I had slipped a disc and knew right then that this would be a long healing process – I had done this once before in 1990.

News was out as I was on my hands and knees crawling into the house to the amazement Galia and Baba, they thought at first I was up to my tricks, but soon realised that the acting was far too good. The trouble was that I knew exactly what the problem was and they didn’t, but they thought they did. Bulgarians are always so confident that they know best, especially so as I was a foreigner here. What’s that got to do with me not knowing what my injury is I’ll never know.

Being Bulgarian they took charge, it didn’t matter what my diagnosis and suggestions for a remedy, I was helpless to do anything about it. What I needed was a day or tow lying down with a couple of painkillers and heat rub and I’ll be right as rain by the weekend, but that opinion was never going to sway the opinion of Bulgarians.

It was off to a cousin who was a doctor for some advice, the advice that came back was a series of injection, one batch for killing the pain the other was a steroid based injection. I just hate injection and faint at the thought, but this is out of my control. These drugs can be bought over the counter with no prescription, which was a little worrying.

Next thing I know, I am having a needle Sir Lancelot would have been proud of stuck into my bum. Half any hour later I couldn’t feel a thing. This is not what I wanted. I now don’t know whether my back is getting better or not. The following night another dose of injections and later that second evening I was evening dancing a little bit before going to bed.

My fear was realised that third morning when I couldn’t even lift a leg to get out of bed. The painkiller had worn off and I was paralysed and that how I am right now. I am due for another final injection tonight, which I don’t want, but it will be administered. The dancing last night just must has dislodged something and not being able to feel a thing or realise it had now happened.

Who know what will become of me tomorrow?