Going high tech

14 01 2026
Yes, I certainly waited – and fell asleep!

Doctor M is very definitely of the “new” school of surgeons – relatively young (late-forties perhaps) and easy to chat to. When I asked him if the second stage of the procedure to break up my kidney stone would take 15 minutes or so he smiled and said it would take a lot longer than that. “We have to make sure that the stone is broken into really small pieces that will easily pass down your ureter and that takes a while even with a laser. We have to retract the stent enough to expose the stone, insert the scope under active X-ray so we know exactly where we are and then blast the stone with the laser”.

When I was told a few weeks back that the kidney stone that was blocking my ureter could be removed by laser I was quite surprised. I’d assumed that it would be crushed and removed by a more basic endoscope but apparently we are more advanced than that in Zimbabwe. Perhaps it’s the dilapidated state of the nation that automatically primes one to expect that nearly all other aspects of life will be equally decrepit. Medicine has, to an extent, escaped this fate (if you have the means to afford it) though it is generally accepted that for advanced medical treatment it’s best to go to South Africa. Perhaps paradoxically it is often cheaper (it’s the competition thing).

The first stage of removal was to insert a JJ stent (so called for the shape of each end) past the stone which was partially blocking the ureter near my left kidney. This required day surgery and I had to report to the clinic in the Avenues area of Harare at seven a.m. I was checked in by pleasant and efficient staff, escorted up to a ward and then the waiting began.

At 10 o’clock my cellphone was taken away and I was told that I’d go to surgery “just now”. By noon I’d given up on the “just now” and dozed off. Around 3 o’clock I was loaded onto a gurney and moved off to the operating theatre where I was left outside. The paint was peeling off the passage walls opposite. The anaesthetist arrived and talked me through what she was going to be doing. She was young and chatty. She left, doctor M called past carrying a day pack and greeted me and then I was moved into the operating theatre and maneuvered onto the bed. The interior of the operating theatre was, to my untrained eye, modern though the overhead lights had different coloured elements that no-one could explain.

I was awake around 4.30 and the surgeon checked in on me at 5. Marianne picked me up at 7. A day spent waiting. Mostly.

Doctor M’s rooms are new, expansive and indicate a successful surgical practice. When I drove in this Friday past to have the consultation for the second phase of the kidney stone removal the car park was only half full. I was on time at 9.45 for the 10 o’clock appointment. I finally got to see him at 11.45 and yes, I fell asleep in the waiting room. When I left the car park and waiting room were full. Maybe I’d got off lightly.

I go back to the same clinic on Monday for the laser treatment. I won’t make the same mistake and will check up on the time I am expected though I suspect a fair bit of latitude will be built in to their answer. Unlike the last time I won’t be getting out the same day – apparently pain management will be required for at least one night. I guess that I will have to put up with it, hopefully I won’t have to wait too long for the analgesics!





Brain waves – literally

28 09 2025
The author – all wired up

I have to marvel at the irony: there was I, having just had the electrical output of my brain recorded by EEG and there was no electricity to operate the lifts to take me back down the three floors to the building’s exit. Of course there were stairs but as a disabled person I find them a challenge. Some challenges I enjoy – others just have to be endured – so ignoring a staff member’s suggestion that I wait out the outage, which could be minutes but more likely will be hours, I start down the stairs.

The drive into town is remarkable by it’s ordinariness – no stupid overtaking or creating extra turning lanes at the lights. It’s moderately heavy but flowing. I have memorized the route – it’s not difficult, King George Avenue through Avondale, over what was North Avenue (I couldn’t be bothered with learning the Mugabe era name changes) then second left into Baines Avenue and look for number 60.

Baines Avenue is about as grubby as expected with street vendors, dust and rubbish. I take in the Canadian Embassy across the street (most other embassies are further out of town) but don’t have time to do more than glance before a self-appointed parking attendant asks me where I want to go and waves me into an empty parking bay some 30m from my destination. He is missing teeth, untidy but pleasant. I ask his name and forget it but know that he’ll be there when I come out, hoping for a tip.

It’s a short walk past the vendors’ wares of fruit in season, toilet paper bundles and sticky drinks. There are pineapples and papaya (pawpaw in the local parlance) and bags of ready-to-go peas in the pod with a chili pepper in each bag. The foyer of number 60 is clean and I ask my way to the lifts. Arriving on the third floor I have to pay attention to the PVC tiles that have lifted and are loose. The doctor’s rooms are clean and well-maintained.

Doctor G the neurologist, is a pleasant, very slender, small man in his 50s. We discuss my epilepsy which was initially diagnosed as POCD (post operative cognitive dysfunction) after a lower spine operation some three-and-a-half years ago. The diagnosis was changed to temporal lobe epilepsy when the seizures continued after the two year limit. I decided to see a consultant physician with an interest in epilepsy who starts me on a course of lamotrigine which is the medication of choice for this type of seizure – focal onset aware (or simple partial). An EEG was done which the physician assured me indicated that the medication was working. The seizures became focal onset impaired awareness (or complex partial) and the medication was increased. The seizures changed their nature again. They were the typical “petit mal” seizure, which are preceded by an aura where I can sense a strange taste or smell or hear a woman talking following which I go into a state of “absence”, where I am aware of my surroundings but cannot remember what they are. Now they become a partial complex seizure which last longer. A full suite of tests is ordered. All are normal save for the MRI which shows that the right temporal lobe of my brain is smaller than the left. It’s not progressive. The medication dose is upped again. The seizures, such as they are, change again.

One day at work I cannot remember how to walk down the stairs from my office which is a major problem for me as a disabled person who has to think about every step. Dr G is fascinated and tells me what it’s called (no I cannot remember that either!). These seizures or episodes are no longer momentary – this one lasts several hours and I’m only aware that there’s been a problem when I stand up from the table on the verandah and realize my mind is clear. I mention that I am making a lot of silly errors in the programming that I do for my work software. Dr G misunderstands and thinks that I have taught myself programming recently (I learnt at university) and comments: “At least you can still learn something new – I have never learnt to swim. Years ago my son said to me – Dad it’s easy, you just have to float. My reply was – if it’s so easy why do so many people drown?”. I like this man.

Dr G comments that the lamotrigine is not working as it should but before changing the medication he recommends doing another EEG. I remark that it sounds a lot better than the neurosurgeon who referred me to him whose parting words to me were – “of course the only permanent solution is surgery”. I tell this to Dr G, he smiles and says “that procedure requires very precise measurements”.

The EEG technician is available so we do the EEG right away. I am required to keep my eyes shut for most of the hour. I don’t fall asleep because the chair is so uncomfortable. I ask him how long it will take to analyse the results. “A while” he replies. “There are 360 pages to go through”.

The staircase takes a while to negotiate. Fortunately someone offers to help and I ask her to take one of my walking sticks down so I can use one hand on the railing.

The informal parking attendant is hovering near my pickup truck. Next to my truck a person has his laptop out on the boot of a car and is listening to a smartly dressed gent in a black suit talking intently on his cellphone. The car-watcher reminds me as I get into my truck that he’s hungry. It’s not very subtle but I don’t mind and give him $2.

The drive back home is as uneventful as the one into town.