Almost one year to the date of my spine surgery, I had to once again go under the knife. I thought only had a dislocated shoulder, but it turned out to be a Grade 5 separated shoulder. This is the type of injury rugby players usually get. I knew from the bulge coming out of my shoulder that it was bad, but it wasn't until I saw the x-ray image that I realize how bad it really was.
I left Yemen early in order to seek medical advice in Bahrain. I was glad to leave the bastard Wagdy behind in Socotra, he deserves to be dubbed worst island guide ever. One of my former Yemeni students was my flight attendant on the plane and he sat with me on the flight to let me know what he was doing with his life. Amazingly, he knew a miracle working doctor 45 minutes outside of Sana'a who could apparently fix me. As sweet and tempting as this offer was, I had to decline...the amount of pain I was in combined with the thought of having to get into an abeya dress and wear burkha and the drive to and from this doctor was too overwhelming for me.
Upon arrival at the airport in Sana'a, I tried to get a flight to Bahrain that night, but was not able to get on a Gulf Air...the only one was Yemenia and I would lose money. Flashbacks of being robbed by that airline came back to me, so I instead decided to wait one more evening before returning to Bahrain. A colleague of mine from Cairo is a freelance journalist in Sana'a and she offered to take me to the Saudi German hospital there to get checked out. I have to admit that my entire time in Yemen, I never once had to go to the hospital aside from when I had to get a mandatory HIV test in Aden. Now I was becoming well acquainted with nearly every medical facility imaginable. The doctor at the hospital agreed with the Soctori doctor that I would need surgery. As if to ease my anxiety, he then pulled up all these photos of metal plates as if I were going to say, yes! Let's do it right now!
Upset by it all, I returned to Bahrain the next day. I rented a Hertz car at the airport and was upset to not be able to turn off the hazard lights. I actually started screaming as a result, I think that all the stress went to my head. I drove to the American Mission Hospital where a jack ass of a doctor looked at me and said I was fine. He took some nursing tape and taped my shoulder...not even binded it...just taped it and then told me to come back in two weeks. He was Asian and for some reason it made me feel good I suppose due to the surgery I had in Taiwan. The next day I realized that the bump on my shoulder was still pretty damn bad so I sought a second opinion...I mean I couldn't even tie up my hair, so I had to cut it super short.
I went to another doctor and sure enough with the new set of x-rays I was in need of surgery. I was scheduled for surgery at the Bahrain Defense Force hospital where they boast about giving Royal Medical service...my surgeon was always in military fatigues and when I was in the operating arena he was wearing a camoflage dew rag.
I had to have a reconstructive shoulder surgery with a metal plate put in my shoulder. Six months later the plate can be removed...it holds the bone in place to repair the fully ruptured ligaments.
An absolutely amazing colleague of mine drove me to and from the hospital and even gave me a teddy bear with a ribbon sling for support. If it were not for her, I think I would have completely lost it. It's not easy having surgery...but try having surgery without any kind of support network in a foreign country. It's not easy, but I think I'm going to be a pro soon.
In the end, the surgery was a success. I underwent physical therapy with a man named Socrates and oddly enough he was from the Philipines with absolutely no connection with Greece. I still have a metal plate, but it is set to be taken out in October or November...I'll return to Bahrain in order to have it done.
