"TAXI! TAXI!", we called, clutching a sleepy Stella and Max while trying to free one of our arms to wave down a cab. Much to our surprise, it was not as easy as we thought to catch a ride at 3:45 a.m. in La Paz, Bolivia. We remembered that it was a Saturday night and were told later that some bars are just opening their doors at 4 a.m.
A while later, we handed an address of a clinic to a taxi driver. (Earlier that evening, the lady we rented our apartment from, gave us the name of a 24 hr clinic that we could go to that was not far from where we were staying, should Max's condition get any worse). Five minutes later, we pulled up to the clinic .... it was dark inside, the glass doors were chained shut and there was no sign of life. 24 hr clinic, huh?
As I walked up the front steps I could see a faint light on somewhere inside the building so I knocked, ok I banged, on the front doors. No luck. I noticed a switch - was it a door bell? I tried that too. That's when I spotted another button and figured pushing that couldn't hurt either. Still no luck.
Just as I was about to give up, a man in some scrubs shuffled to the front door, rubbing his eyes as if to make it clear that I had woken him up. In my broken, limited Spanish, I told him that my child was sick. I passed him a piece of paper through the crack in the glass doors that had all of Max's symptoms listed on it with some of our concerns and observations from the previous day. Thanks to google translator, we were able to write a full page description in Spanish, before we left the apartment.
The man took a very brief moment to scan the paper and then folded it up and handed it back to me through the crack. He started to speak in Spanish, and even with my limited vocabulary in Spanish, I was able to decipher the words: Hospital and Emergencia! By this time, the taxi driver had joined me at the front door and heard for himself what our next destination would be.
Speeding away from the clinic, we headed in a direction of the city that was unfamiliar to us. We sped past many cars and taxis on some pretty narrow, windy streets. When our driver turned off the 'main' roads onto some darker, cobblestone lanes, I sincerely questioned his motives and my concern turned to panic! Where was this guy taking us? I was no longer just worried about Max but wondered about ALL our safety! Just as I turned to whisper to Jeff and formulate a plan, we turned back onto a busier street with more traffic. Sigh. How far away was this Hospital?!!
What felt like an eternity later, real time probably only 10 minutes, we pulled up to a small building with the words "Emergencia" on the doors. It didn't look anything like a Hospital but we noticed the next day that it was attached to the side of a 4 story building. We payed the taxi driver (a whopping $2 and tip) and walked through the doors. There was a lone guy sitting at an old wooden desk that stood up to assist us. Only two other guys sat on wooden benches in the small, quiet waiting area. I handed the man that same piece of paper and after he read it, he motioned for us to follow him through some swinging doors. Jeff carried a very sleepy, very hot little boy to the first curtain area and laid him on the bed. Scanning the ER, I was relieved to see that it was clean, orderly and quiet. Not as modern, equipped and comfortable by North American standards but truly not too bad at all ... slight exhale.
Max was examined by a doctor. And then another. And then another. Not one spoke any English whatsoever but all read our trusty piece of paper. Nurses assisted with taking Max's vitals and then finally Juan Pablo, a young intern, arrived who spoke English very well ... bigger exhale.
And interestingly enough, everything seemed to shift into high gear when we uttered the words, "Yes, we have travel insurance."
X-rays, ultrasound, urine sample, blood work, some 8-10 other doctor's examinations & opinions and 16 long Bolivian hours later ......
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| heading into surgery for an emergency appendectomy |
After surgery, we got to have a look at Max's appendix ... only in Bolivia :)
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| surgeon confirmed it was inflamed and could have ruptured at anytime |
Interestingly enough, we rushed to the Hospital that night wanting to be reassured that Max was not suffering from High Altitude sickness. We had only been in La Paz for a few days and all of us were feeling the effects of living at close to 13,000 ft. (fatigue, dizziness, insomnia, throbbing headache, lack of appetite, shortness of breath, rapid pulse, nausea and even vomiting). Max had complained of some tummy pain a couple of days prior, mentioned it again maybe one more time, but was not suffering any intense pain. He had a very high fever that we couldn't keep down with Children's Advil and when he vomited in the middle of the night, it was a small, clear amount but it had some trace amounts of blood in it. That's when we didn't want to take any chances and headed for the clinic. It took hours and hours for the doctors to make the final diagnosis. One was convinced it was sinusitis. Another doctor thought it was a bladder infection. Thankfully, no one rushed us into surgery until they were confident it was his appendix. It was definitely a process of elimination, persistent questions and time that revealed what was really going on with Max.
It was definitely a scary experience but our care in the hospital was really good and over the 7 days we were there, we met some wonderful people! In particular, the family we had rented our apartment from became our angels and took such loving care of us - especially Stella, as Jeff and I spent our days and nights in Max's hospital room.
When Max headed in for his surgery, both Jeff and I knew that our travel plans were going to change pretty drastically. We knew that the best decision for our family would be to head home as soon as the doctor gave his ok for Max to travel. Our decision was confirmed by the surgeon who said that Max needed to take it easy for a few weeks which definitely did not include climbing Machu Picchu. It just wasn't worth the risk to us to head to remote areas of Bolivia and Peru where there were few, if any, medical facilities. So this week, we took five different airplanes over the course of three days, to travel back home to Armstrong. And honestly, this whole ordeal knocked the wind right out of our sails and exhausted us physically, mentally and emotionally ... not sure we had the 'umph' to carry on truthfully. One day though, we would love to go back to the country where Max left a little piece of himself :) We really want to go back and visit the amazing family that took such good care of us and became our friends. We would love to carry on where we left off and go see the massive Salt Flats in Bolivia, explore the islands on Lake Titicaca and finally check off one of our bucket list items and climb Machu Picchu. We will finish this trip!
Although our experience in Bolivia didn't turn out the way we had planned and hoped, we shared some great memories there too and I will write about some of our happier adventures and share some pictures just as soon as I get the chance.
