Bosnian Medicine

Henry on eve of operation: One day you get cake; the next they cut off.... well, you can't count on happiness. Or humans.

Henry is small and only 6 months old, but I knew it was time for him to be neutered when he came out on the balcony with me the other day. Almost instantly a gaggle of feral felines in heat were pacing and yowling in the courtyard, wiggling their tails at Henry, who seemed confused but promptly went inside and peed in the living room.

Ugh. Time to call Mustafa.

Mustafa is not quite a vet, but he only has a couple more exams to pass. He doesn't have an office, but he comes to your place. And he speaks a little English so he lots of internationals recommending him to newcomers.

The minute I let him in Henry went racing for cover. Mustafa, a tall, thin man with a mop of dark hair, dropped to his hands and knees and chased him. "You do know that Mustafa is crazy," Leila in our office had told me. He takes care of her dog. He caught Henry, lifted him by the scruff of the neck, held him against the kitchen door and plunged in a needle. Henry yowled. I felt a little sick.

Mustafa then plopped my terrified cat on the kitchen table, examined him, administered two more needles. Henry kept on fighting him and encroaching sleep. But soon, he was immobile and Mustafa pulled a hairnet over his mop and put on gloves.

I excused myself and went into the living room.

I didn't even have time to finish a cup of tea before he called me back in. Henry's backside was coated in a garish green disinfectant and we put him in a box with a soft towel to recover. I paid Mustafa 80 KM ($36) and he was out the door not 40 minutes after arriving. I was thinking I'd have to tell my sister Christine, a veterinarian, about how must less expensive vet care is here. I mean, he came to my door and everything.

But then I went into the kitchen and THERE WAS BLOOD ON THE TABLE! Oh God, I thought as I poured bleach over it and scrubbed -- the wastebasket. WHAT might I find in there? No, my fears were unfounded; there was just a bloody paper towel and nothing else, but I would have paid extra for use of an operating room.

Co-workers hearing this story wanted to know why I had neutered my pet. It appears not to be the usual practice here judging by the roaming, homeless cats and dogs.

Medical care for humans is equally casual. On a walk this weekend (2/29/06) I mentioned to Miranda, our translator and web wizard, that I had another urinary tract infection and probably would have to find a doctor. You need Bactrim, she said. Exactly, I agreed, so I needed a prescription.

Nope. We talked into a drugstore and bought a box of antibiotics and an herbal tea women use here apparently the way we use cranberry juice to prevent infections. Anything that keeps me out of a doctor's office I am in favor of.