Have an operation!
N 44°26'48.2'' E 026°03'41,6''Events from 01.07. until 04.07.2006
The days at the Euroclinic pass with highs and lows. As expected, my situation has not improved. On the contrary. For two days now, the feeling in my left foot has been disappearing more and more. And although I don’t have an injury on my calf, I sometimes feel like someone is peeling it out with a knife. Liters of antibiotics, anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving medication flow through my veins. Nevertheless, I suffer like a dog. “You have to go home,” says Dr. Baltisanu. “But I can’t walk. I can’t even stand up,” I moan. “Then you should have an operation here. There’s no point in suffering like this. “Can Denis try to get up?” asks Tanja. “Sure, it can’t hurt. Maybe it will work out. I’ll be back tomorrow. Have a pain-free night,” he says goodbye and we are alone again with my suffering. “What am I supposed to do? Now my foot is falling asleep. I have less and less feeling. My God, the nerves are starting to die,” I feel sorry for myself and am completely at a loss. “Why don’t you try standing up,” Tanja suggests. “Do you really think so?” “Yes, he said nothing could happen.” “Hm, okay, I’ll try,” I decide and concentrate on the right moment. “Now!” I shout, lifting my upper body, swinging my legs over the bed frame and slowly putting weight on them. I grin. The feeling of success is fantastic, but only about three seconds later I think I’ve been cut in two. My legs buckle and as I fall I manage to let my body land in the bed. From this point onwards, even the pain infusions were of little use to me. I lay there whimpering for the rest of the day and the whole night.
“We can’t inject your husband with any more painkillers. He’s at his limit,” I hear the night nurse say. I realize that. The attempt to stand up was a mistake. As far as I can still think clearly, I’m thinking about what to do next. Tanja has been trying for days to reach an agreement with the three insurance companies I have about repatriation. Each of the three companies does not want to send us a written confirmation of costs. This means that we have to pay for the return transportation ourselves in an emergency. “Fucking insurance companies. When you need them, they don’t fulfill their obligations,” I curse quietly. Tanja had no help in organizing my flight to Germany. She has to organize medical transport herself. What does it cost? I have no idea. A special flight like this quickly raises 50,000 or perhaps 100,000 euros. So the flight home could ruin us. Apart from that, how do you get an air ambulance in Romania? If I were here alone, I would probably die and nobody would care. My parents were considering flying to Bucharest. But what good would that do in our situation? “Please stay at home. We’ll manage,” Tanja comforted her. It has been clear since yesterday that the flight home will not happen. What other alternatives are there? The return flight would most likely ruin us financially. The paralysis in my leg is getting worse by the hour and we are not getting any support from the insurance companies. Nice shit. Due to the increasing pain, the many medications and the ever-increasing panic, I am no longer able to think clearly. For Tanja, however, it is a damn serious decision. If the operation went wrong, she would blame herself forever. So? What alternative do I have? What should I do? How should I decide? Hello! I need an answer and I need it now! I shout in my mind. “Have an operation.” “Excuse me?” I ask quietly. “Have the operation. It will go well. You’re in good hands here,” I hear the voice of Mother Earth. I am not sure if I can really hear the voice of Mother Earth in my condition or who is speaking at all? I’m probably talking to myself. The doubts are great. A few years ago, during our desert crossing in Australia, I no longer had any doubts about communicating actively with Mother Earth. But here? The days of regular communication are long gone. Last year, on the Trans-East Expedition Part 1, there were a few conversations that sounded genuine. I don’t know. What should I do? “Have an operation,” I hear again, whereupon I make a decision.
