Sunsets and Hospital Visits

RTW Health Care

Shortly after my brother Scott arrived in Mauritius we had two appointments scheduled:  one for the Blew family and one for me.

The first was a dentist appointment for all three of us, one right after the other.  We were all due for a cleaning and a checkup, and one of the villa owners in our complex recommended a relative, Dr. Basgeet, in Curepipe, a town about 45 minutes away near the west coast of the island.

I had agreed to be the first in the chair so if it turned out to be a Saw-style horror show we could grab the boy and flee.  Upon entering Dr. Basgeet’s reception area we were pretty sure we had nothing to worry about.  It was warm, modern and tastefully decorated.  I was escorted into the exam room right on time by a polite and professional assistant and greeted by Dr. Basgeet herself, a lovely woman who spoke excellent English.  The exam room was new and the equipment up-to-date, and my cleaning and checkup were positively breezy.

Braeden went next, then Juliann.  J took a little longer because she had to have some minor fillings which the doctor did on the spot.  We were in and out in about 90 minutes and the total cost for three cleanings, three checkups, and several minor fillings was a little over $200.

The second appointment about a week later was for me, with an ENT specialist.  Back in Paris in late July I developed a bump on my lower lip (which you can see in some of the photos if you look really, reeeaallly closely) that looked like a cold sore.  I was pretty sure it wasn’t one, so I ended up going to the doctor in Annecy, who told me it might be a bacterial infection.  He gave me a prescription, charged me $23 (yes, $23) and sent me on my way.

Two weeks later the bump had grown, gotten bright red, and bled when I brushed my teeth too vigorously or dried my face with a towel.  So I went to see another doctor, this time in Aix-en-Provence, who listened to my story, looked me over and suggested that it might be a virus.  He prescribed a homeopathic remedy, charged me $23 and sent me on my way.

Two weeks went by, and by this time we were in Antibes.  My bump (we had nicknamed it “Mark” by this point) had not only stubbornly refused to go away, but it had grown even larger.  I was growing frustrated and worried that I would not be able to get the problem addressed without any continuity of care.  I was also a little concerned that it might be cancerous, and naturally when I woke up at 3am on some nights I had rather nasty thoughts popping into my head.

Once we arrived in Antibes I immediately started looking for an ENT specialist.  I found one just a few blocks away, made an appointment , and a few days later I went to his office with all my fingers and toes crossed.

After a brief conversation he examined me and told me in French that it wasn’t serious or life threatening, but he believed that I had a hemangioma.  He inserted a needle to see if it bled (which it did, all over the place) and declared that he was pretty sure that’s what it was.

Hemangiomas sometimes go away on their own, and he recommended that I wait a month and if it wasn’t gone by then to see a surgical specialist to have it removed.  I explained that we were only in France for another week or so and then we were flying to Mauritius, and he reassured me that I could get good medical care in there.

So Mark and I agreed on a truce for another month, and now we are fully caught up with our story.

Doctor Maurice is the island’s expert laser surgeon and ENT specialist.  He is a jolly little fellow with a twinkle in his eye and a quick wit, and he sports a Scottish accent left over from his years of medical training in Scotland.

He looked me over, peppering me with jokes and small talk, and then confirmed that it was indeed a hemangioma and that he believed he could probably remove it with a laser.  He had an opening two days later at the local hospital, Apollo Bramwell, and I showed up with high hopes.

The hospital was beautiful and modern, the staff friendly and professional.  I was taken to an OR where I waited for a few minutes while the team set up the laser and a cauterizing tool that they had standing by in case the bleeding got too heavy.

Dr. Maurice breezed in with a smile on his face, greeted me warmly, and assured me that everything was going to go smoothly.  Minutes later I was on the table, surrounded by Dr. Maurice, a couple of technicians, and two nurses.

Other than the initial shot of anesthetic in the lip there was no pain, just the beep of the laser and the acrid smell of vaporized tissue.  Soon the doctor chuckled, “I’m an artist!” and gave a little tug on my lip with the tweezers he was holding.  Something small gave way and he held up a tiny little oblong chunk of dark red tissue.

“It looks like a fibroma, not a hemangioma, my friend,” he mused, then set the chunk to the side.  He spent a minute or so using the laser to cauterize the hole in my lip, then clapped me on the shoulder.

“Now stop chewing your lip,” he grinned, “and you should be fine.”

I smiled, thanked him and the rest of the staff, and a technician escorted me down to the front desk to settle my bill.

The total cost of the procedure was $224.  I don’t know exactly how much the same thing would cost in the States, but I’m guessing I wouldn’t be out of line to say….10 times that amount?

The point of all of the above isn’t to suggest that my life has been hell for the past few months.  It hasn’t.  I had a bump on my lip and even though it was annoying I was aware every day that many people wake up with much, much worse.

The point is that healthcare outside the U.S. can be very good.  And affordable.  So if you’re interested in traveling – particularly with children – but you’re afraid you won’t be able to get good care, start packing and go.  Do your research, of course, but go.

RumrumrumrumRUM!

Within a few days of arriving in Mauritius my brother Scott had already established a cadre of friends for himself, and one of his friends, a very beautiful, very sweet Mauritian woman named Deb, decided to take us to Chamarel, where there is a park and more importantly, a rum distillery.

We visited the park first and gaped at the gorgeous falls and the 7 Colored Earth.  It’s an amazing place and we spent a few hours looking around and soaking up the beauty.

Then we went to the distillery to soak up some rum.

The Rhumerie de Chamarel offers a tour and tasting, which we thought was a fantastic idea at 2 o’clock in the afternoon.  The tour was brief, and we learned about sugar cane and how it is grown, harvested, and processed into rum.

We studied the huge conveyor belt and its cutting blades, peered into huge vats of bubbling, fermenting cane juice, and at the end of the tour, we were privileged to sample 9 of their rums.

Yes, I thought 9 was a rather large number too.  But we shrugged, did our best Joel Goodsen impression, and did it anyway.

At the beginning of the tour there were perhaps 20 of us entering the tasting room.  By the time our hostess was circulating with the ninth bottle of delicious rum there were only a few tasters left:  us and a small family of English tourists.  We toasted to our mutual hardiness and sipped the final offering, an incredible coffee-flavored rum.

We then sauntered over to the dining room and had a very tasty lunch (I skipped the rum with mine) and hung out for awhile in the dining room, taking in the scenery and enjoying each other’s company.

Before making the journey home we of course bought bottles of Chamarel’s Gold, Spiced, and Coffee rum for a rainy day.

And a sunny day.  And the days in between.

A Full House

A few days later my brother Matthew arrived in Mauritius with three kites, two boards, and a boatload of equipment in tow.  How the hell he fit all that gear on his Air France flight I have no idea, but the guy loves kiteboarding so much he dragged all that stuff halfway around the world.

He also brought more Larabars for B and some new shorts for Juliann, who had been frustrated in her attempts to find a good pair of all-purpose traveling shorts.  In the end she gave up, ordered some from Athleta, and sent them to Matt to mule across the Atlantic.

It’s been years since I’ve been able to spend quality time with my brothers and it’s really been wonderful to have them here.  Braeden loves his uncles and we get so much joy out of watching him follow them around like a puppy dog, peppering them with questions about kites, cameras, and computers.

We’re looking forward to having a full house for a few more weeks, during which time I’m sure there will be loads of shenanigans to report.

A bientôt!