Re: Don’t give me the shits.

Posted by Kathy Schlegel on Oct 22, 2014; 1:36am
URL: http://sundownersadventures.385.s1.nabble.com/Don-t-give-me-the-shits-tp5707032p5707037.html

This story will be on topic but overly long (sorry): I reckon most of we overlanders picked up Delhi Belly in Srinagar and by the time TK159 got to Swat Valley, many of us had requested unscheduled stops enroute. While the rest of the punters had gone to local doctors who knew appropriate  treatment and were over the worst by the time we got to Swat, I had the misfortune to be treated by an Aussie doctor travelling overland by car who had joined us in convoy for safety because of the riots in Pakistan and who had zilch knowledge of appropriate treatment. I was so crook in Swat that Dr. Roger visited me as I sat on the loo in the motel. In Peshawar, another 'home visit'. The four nights in Kabul to be close to 'facilities', meant that I missed out on the trip to Bamiyan with my husband, Rom, and others well enough to do that rough side trip. Things were no better all the way through Kandahar to Herat where I finally got to see a local doctor. His prescription for a glucose saline drip sent Gary Petersen (our driver) out onto the streets to buy the necessary equipment on the black market using Russian roubles. Fortunately, one of the punters, Sue Cannon, was also a qualified nurse and kindly undertook the procedure to administer the same. So no champagne to celebrate our wedding anniversary but a glucose saline drip which, within a short time was out of the lower orifice.
The next day was the border crossing into Iran which involved everyone doing so on foot passports in hand through the passport office. I was so weak that Rom carried me across and I couldn't care whether I lived or died.
We arrived in Mashhad around 4.00pm. When all I wanted was a loo, bloody Gary very kindly did a tour of the Golden Mosque prior to going to the camp ground. As soon as we arrived, I was off to hospital with Rom in a taxi. Needless to say, none of the doctors had more than a smattering of English. So a lab pathologist, Ali, was brought to my bedside where I was again hooked up to a glucose saline drip. Fortunately, his English was very good and he was able to explain that I would need 3 day's treatment including daily Vitamin B injections - into my buttocks! He also advised that it would be healthier for me to stay at the camp site rather than the hospital and undertook to come all the way across the city after work to administer them. Truly a Good Samaritan! He also bought all the medication I had been prescribed. Not only that but, while I was recuperating, he took Rom around the city to show him the sights including a tour through the Golden Mosque. On the second day, Rom also came down with Delhi Belly. Again, Ali took him to the hospital and bought all the necessary medication. By the evening of the third day, we were both well enough to accept Ali's dinner invitation with his family - a rare privilege especially when he advised his wife to drop her veil. I might add that Ali also had a daughter who was of an age that she should have been in full niqab in public, but his attitude was so progressive that, to give her more freedom, his daughter's hair was cut very short and she wore dungarees so that she looked like a boy.
In the meantime TK159 had gone on to Tehran and we were to meet up again in Isfahan. So on the fourth day, we flew out via Iranian Airlines. Again, Ali was so generous. Not only did he buy the tickets (and not let us pay for them) but he and his family took us out to the airport to see us off.
When we said that we would like to repay his generosity, he initially brushed it off, saying that we were guests in his country so no repayment was required. After a great deal insistence on our part, he finally admitted that he had been admiring our Jeans Adidas (remember them - they were blue) and would love a pair each for his daughter and son. Because we were not returning to Aus until April the following year, we promised that we would write at that time to ascertain correct shoe sizes. Which we duly did. But never received any correspondence in return.
The rest is history. The Shah was deposed;  Ayatollah Khomeini took over and many Iranians suffered, particularly the more progressive ones. Ali was truly a Good Samaritan, and I believe that he and his family no longer exist. But to this day I will never forget his kindness and generosity.
To conclude, two days later I was climbing round Persepolis in the blazing heat as though I'd never been ill in my life. Mind you, I had lost so much weight that my jeans were safety pinned on each hip so that they wouldn't fall off!