Get Well Soon: Barbados Medical Adventures

“I’ll go to Canada for that.”

The doctor looked at me in— surprise? disbelief?

“No. You can’t fly. You need to see a surgeon today.”

And so began a new adventure.

It had actually started a week earlier, on Old Year’s Night. I’d woken that morning thinking I shouldn’t have had that last margarita the night before, but as the day wore on I was getting worse, not better. I called our property manager to get the names of medical clinics close to us, but decided I’d rather wait at home than in a crowded waiting room. Maybe it would improve.

It didn’t, and in the early afternoon we headed to the clinic. When the doctor saw me and my vitals, he immediately started an intravenous to rehydrate me. Anti-nausea drugs and painkillers, two bags of fluids and I was sent home, with a diagnosis of acute gastroenteritis and instructions to wait and it would get better. I still had severe abdominal pain, but on the other hand I’d never been quite that sick before so it wasn’t surprising.

I didn’t get better. We were staying on the east coast of the island for a week as a holiday, but there was no New Year’s bubbly for me, or even much leaving of the hotel room. Only the thought of spending an hour travelling the bumpy roads, clutching my stomach, kept me from heading back to the doctor’s, or maybe the hospital.

When we came back to the South coast after a week, we went straight to the clinic. A different doctor thought it was likely diverticulitis, but sent me for imaging to rule out appendicitis.

Eight hours later, after an ultrasound and a CT scan, they called a surgeon to see me about my ruptured appendix.

Two months later I am fine, if out of shape from all the lying in bed. So much for my surfing improvement program! If you need to convalesce, however, the tropics is a lovely place to do it.

There’s nothing like a medical emergency to make you realize you are in a foreign country. At home, you likely have a relationship with a doctor, family and friends to support you, people to ask about procedures and surgeons, knowledge of how the system works.

Here, Scott was my mainstay, taking me to appointments, caring for me, trying to tempt me to eat with anything he thought might appeal. I had friends to recommend I go private rather than public, to reassure me that my surgeon was a good one. But, as a Canadian, having to pull out my credit card at every visit, sometimes multiple times, and having to navigate my not-very-user-friendly travel medical insurance, was both disconcerting and stressful.

You can get very good medical care in Barbados. With three medical schools and many Bajans who do their specialty training abroad and later return home, there are many competent doctors available, particularly in the private sector. (The public system suffers from the usual stresses, exacerbated by both lack of funding and medical personnel heading for more lucrative positions overseas and in the private sector.)

I don’t fault the first doctor who missed my ruptured appendix. It was the afternoon of a holiday, and he had a waiting room full of patients. There was a bad stomach flu going around, and he treated the acute gastroenteritis symptoms that were pretty obvious. And who knew that appendicitis was not just for young people, that there is a second, smaller peak of occurrences around my age? Not me.

The doctor was experienced enough to feel competent, but young enough that he probably hadn’t seen enough of those “unusual” cases that would make him stop and think a little deeper. And we all know, no matter where we live, of cases of misdiagnosis and treatment. Medicine is an art.

I spend a lot of time in waiting rooms, but I have done the same at home. I may have got in as quickly for the emergency scans, but likely would have had to wait much longer for my follow-up CT scan in Canada.

I also went to a dermatologist here, on the assumption that they would have much more experience with skin carcinomas, and because I could make an appointment without a referral. (My Canadian doctor has been “keeping an eye” on several spots, for years now.) I decided to get one spot taken care of here, rather than waiting for the referral process in Canada. It was removed within a week, and, when the lab report came back two weeks later as melanoma, I was in 10 days later for the follow-up procedure. I paid out of pocket, but it was worth it to me for the peace of mind.

These weren’t what I had planned on, but they were interesting experiences nevertheless! On with the brave travels.