That is how we spend our days in Kuwait right now. The first week was a calm breeze, the second is like a rocky storm. We encountered several problems in our plans such as unwilling officers, unneeded circumstances and such, some got solved, some yet to be.
One of our least expected complications occurred when we took Dori to a doctor to check out her continuous ear problems, stretching three weeks back to Britain, as mentioned few posts earlier.
First doc, recommended by my mother-in-law (a nurse), just looked at it and referred us to Al-Sabah Hospital in Shuwaikh area with acute mastoiditis. There we got checked once again, and to our surprise there was no do-it-and-leave treatment, we were immediately hospitalized on the ORL ward, not even a chance to pick up pyjamas back at home.
Dori got her first infusion in the life and my heart still shatters into hundreds of pieces remembering how full of real pain was her cry. Up to today we are on her fourth infusion spot and several allergy tests and blood taking from her instep and a toe. The poor baby is full of needle holes, and we are still to stay here several days, so we will complete the whole week – Sunday we came, Sunday we’ll leave – inshallah.
On the same day Dori got hospitalized she was ordered to the X-Rays of her ear bones and nearly at the midnight to a CAT scan – that’s how urgent her case was according to the doctors in Kuwait. (Good morning, Newcastle?)
Monday noon she was in the surgical theatre getting an inner ear surgery to clean up the infection, and after an hour and a half back in the room with us, eventually in a new room; the first night we spent in the general women’s ward, which was empty on Sunday, but started to fill with other patients on Monday, and Abdullah didn’t like that and got us transferred to a private room on a different ward. That first night I got no sleep whatsoever, Dori was crying out of her sleep every few minutes, and honestly sleeping on a chair is a little bit spine-breaking anyway. Not mentioning that there were nurses and doctors checking on Dodo every moment, once for the drip, once to prepare her for a general anaesthetics for the CT scan, than for a second sleep for the surgery. That day she had been fasting – except a small cup of water and three biscuits – for nearly 22 hours, more than many of the first-Ramadan-fasting reverts and Muslims.
Since then, alhamdulilah, her ear is getting better and the threat of a second, bigger and bone-opening surgery is fading away every day. We have to stay here in the hospital room for few more days, till Sunday. Dori will remain on the dripping funnel with Penicilin and antibiotics and doctors will keep an eye on her ear, making sure the infection is gone before we are let to go home again. To the “sand castle”, as Dori says. To the “stinky”, as she calls the incredible heat outside. And to the “king”, as she refers to all the men in the traditional Gulf clothing here, beginning with her grandfather.
I’m trying to make her daddy more of a “royal” too, but unsuccessfully so far. Maybe later, perhaps?