Romania: That Time I Was Hospitalized

"Who travels to Romania?"

That is a question I was asked frequently before going. Apparently I do. I have been twice now with a five year gap between each visit and a different intention with each visit.

(Stay tuned and I will post a blog that I wrote after my first visit.)

In March 2017, I packed my bags, boarded a plane and flew to Romania where I thought I would be working with children at an after school program. Much to my pleasurable surprise, I was asked to write a curriculum for this after school program that will be expanding to other areas in the fall. The school I was with is called Project Ruth.

In Romania, there are hidden fees associated with attending school. Project Ruth in located in the poorest part of the city and offers a safe, and completely free environment for students. Most students are from Roma (Gypsy) families. The school provides homework club and after school programming for mothers who can provide proof of employment. This encourages families to work, and in turn provides a better role model for the children at home.

Romania was a culture shock I was not expecting. Not very many years ago, it was still a communist country and the communist influence is still shockingly apparent. The language is not easy to pick up on, and I barley managed to learn how to say "yes please" and "thank you".

I had big plans for Romania. I spent my second weekend touring Bucharest, and seeing the good and the bad parts. And by the bad parts I am not kidding you. I found my self in a ghetto Roma village at a home wrestling tournament that night.

I was becoming a pro at the metro system, and I was meeting some really fantastic people. My third weekend was supposed to be spent touring the seaside and my last weekend was supposed to be spent in the mountains touring Dracula's castle. But alas, life likes to throw curve balls.

At the halfway mark to my stay I had a severe gallbladder attack and was rushed to the hospital via ambulance. The doctors were very attentive and saw me right away. After a number of tests they came back and told me that I would need emergency surgery. My gallbladder was highly infected and my blood cell counts were 1500 over 900 (That's really bad apparently). Being a stubborn human being, I refused to let them touch me and ever so rudely said "no! not in this country" for which I would later have to apologize for. The doctors did ask me if they could admit me for at least the night and put me on an antibiotic drip. Too tired to argue and still in pain, I agreed. Little did I know, they had no intention of letting me out (basically ever). The next morning I discovered that I would have to provide my own pyjamas (no problem), as well as my own toilet paper, hand soap and drinking water ... and there was no hot water. Missing Canadian health care already, I learned the hard way that I was not allowed to leave my room and walk around, or stand by the window, I was in a room with 16 ladies, no curtain barriers, and the beds were old metal frames (flashback to 50 years ago). With hopes I had changed my mind about surgery, the doctor would not let me eat for almost 3 days. On my third day it became painfully apparent that the doctor was not going to let me out. Thus, I booked my flight home for the following day, making it clear that I would take my own IV out if I absolutely had to.

Two weeks too soon, I flew home.

Romania was a learning curve and a story I never thought I would be telling. I learned much about myself, culture and health care. Most importantly, I learned that you can't always plan life. There are going to be things that happen that you cannot control. You learn to either roll with the punches and fight on, or you shrivel under the pressure. As humans, we are resilient. We have the ability to march on, to adapt, to keep on learning. And to be blunt, shit happens so roll with the punches or take a seat. And always purchase health insurance!

Most importantly, Romania made me ready to see more of the world!