Emergency at Sea

From letter dated March 12, 1995

I reached home late Saturday afternoon last week, slept late Sunday morning, and unpacked at a leisurely pace. Early in the afternoon, I interrupted my labors to sit down for a pre-lunch beer. Almost immediately, the Punta Gorda agent for the Caribbean Prince called to say that a passenger with a coronary was being air-evacuated to Belize City. He gave us only the bare facts, but we had no way of knowing when the plane would arrive.

We learned later from Lew Holland, the ship’s emergency medical technician, that the doctor from Punta Gorda, who was to accompany the patient in the air ambulance, was late in arriving. The doctor-passenger from the Caribbean Prince who had been attending Mrs. Gerstle considered her condition so serious that she “ordered” Lew into the plane and insisted that they take off without further delay.

Lew called me from the Casualty Ward in the hospital as soon as they arrived. I rushed over to the hospital and was there when Mrs. G. was admitted. I think Lew said that a doctor had seen her briefly when she first arrived. However, she was disconnected from the oxygen Lew had been supplying, and the Belize Hospital never gave her oxygen again. They installed a glucose drip. Mrs. G. was told that a doctor would not see her until the next day. Her only attention was occasional checks of pulse, temperature, and blood pressure. The nurses ignored her completely, even when she complained of increasing pain.

During Lew’s and my absence getting necessities from luggage that was in my car, Mrs. G. got up to use the lavatory, unhooking and carrying her IV. She found she was expected to ask the nurse for a piece of toilet paper. The ward facilities were unisex. One cubicle had no door, and the other, no seat (“Not that I would have used one, anyway”). The nurse did not accompany her, despite her frail condition, and watched, unmoving, from the nurses’ table at the end of the room when Mrs. G. stumbled down an unexpected step and bruised herself returning to her bed.

“I have bad vibes about this place,” she remarked when we returned. I had them before she was admitted! I promised to find her a private doctor.

 

It took Alex and me one hour on the telephone to get through to the small private hospital connected with Belize Medical Associates. In that time, we learned that every doctor in the city had gone to Corozal for a free clinic. By the greatest good fortune, I finally was able to get through to the little hospital. By even greater luck, Belize’s only heart specialist was on call. I talked to Dr. Cawich, who promised to make immediate arrangements to transfer Mrs. G. by ambulance. When Lew and I got back to the Belize City Hospital, the ambulance was at the door.

Mrs. G. (now Marj to me) had a serious relapse from the stress of being moved. However, she was hooked up to oxygen immediately, given an IV with medication, and received another nitroglycerin tablet from Lew. In ten minutes, she was stabilized.

The private hospital is very nice. Rooms are large with large private baths, both ceiling fan and air conditioner, refrigerator, and remote-control TV. The man on duty when we took Marj in was Mr. Chinade, with whom I worked hard last year trying to get his family from Lagos to Belize. He was wonderfully attentive. The hospital seems to have more nurses and attendants than patients. I think they have just four rooms. The hospital is adjacent to a clinic of four to six doctors of varying specialties. It is expensive for Belize, but worth every penny.

One day and two EKG’s after Marj’s admission, Dr. Cawich told me that there was no sign of heart damage. He thought she was suffering from angina brought on by very low hemoglobin. In a comfortable private room and with attentive medical care, she improved steadily.

 

From the moment I first met her, I knew that Marj was someone I would love knowing. We became fast friends. For years, she has spent about half the year on large cruise ships, giving craft classes (Royal Caribbean, Crystal). She is my age, has a wonderful sense of the ridiculous, has the same standards of morality and behavior I grew up with, and is a fine conversationalist.

I was with Marj from 2 pm till 8 pm the day she arrived. After that, I saw her two or three times a day. It was hectic rushing from office to hospital, back to office. Alex protested that I was pushing myself too much. All I could think of was how I would feel if I had nearly died away from all family and friends in a distant, backward country. Marj needed me. Aside from the pressure, I loved every minute with her.

 

Marj has the best travel medical insurance anyone ever has seen. The company was in touch with her once or twice daily and with me at least once a day, coordinating plans for her return. It took a little talking to let them understand Belize and to convince them that I intended to cooperate.

The first request was for a non-stop flight Belize/Newark. I had changed her return tickets, but they said to cancel everything. Through their own travel agents they rebooked with American, which offers First Class. They sent a doctor down to accompany her home. The insurance company doctor arrived Thursday, and the two of them set off on the return to New Jersey that midday.

It was hard saying goodbye, we had become such close friends. Unfortunately, it was a hectic day for me.

• Hair appointment at 8 o’clock

• Sav-U [grocery store] shopping for essentials only en route back to office

• Office catching-up

• Back to hospital at 11 am

• Goodbyes at 12:15

• Home for quick lunch

María and Alex had fixed marvelous pork pepper steaks from a new recipe

• To Ann Crump’s for our old bridge foursome (Ann, Emilie Bowen, Betty Lindo)

  

Betty’s husband Dean Lindo is the Belize Ambassador to the U.S. They were here for a conference Dean skillfully had scheduled to bring him home for the Ninth of March boat races.

• Duplicate bridge at night

  Survived, despite the room’s beginning to rock like a ship at sea toward the end of the session.

Even a three-day weekend (Baron Bliss Day), long nights of sleep, and afternoon naps haven’t counteracted the stress. I hate being reminded that I’m a septuagenarian.