After two lengthy trips during the extended summer break last year, I was exhausted, so during the World Cup break, I decided to stay put. Instead of jet setting to a new locale, I let people come to me and was happy to host. Consequently, my Spring Break trip to the Azores was my first venture outside of Qatar since the summer, and I was looking forward to my usual solo travel routine: stay at an inexpensive Airbnb, eat delicious foods, drink refreshing beverages, take some interesting photographs, and see what adventures would find me.
There was only one problem with my trip to the Azores—I wasn’t feeling well.
Last fall, I decided it would be best if I started using my medical insurance more. I was turning 46 and needed to be more proactive with my healthcare. Additionally, I only needed to walk two blocks to a state-of-the-art hospital in my neighborhood, so medical care was both inexpensive and proximate. I then scheduled a dental check-up and a physical. The dental check-up went fine. I don’t eat much sugar, so my teeth have been healthy for most of my adult life. However, during my physical, the doctor informed me that I was overweight, and my cholesterol was high. The former I knew; the latter was news to me. Given my family’s history with high cholesterol and heart problems, I took the prognosis seriously. I promised my doctor that I would make lifestyle changes to lose some weight and reduce my cholesterol. He also prescribed cholesterol lowering medicine for me to take.
At first, I was a little disappointed with the news because, for most of my life, I was able to burn the candle at both ends. With rest, I would recuperate. But now I was learning that my energy wasn’t boudless and that my predilections were taking a toll on my health. Yet, part of me was probably starting to realize this, and the reason I decided to seek out medical attention when I did, was probably to face the music. The music played, so I listened. From the time of my fall physical, throughout the World Cup, I did what I could to moderate my behavior, and I did ok. At my next checkup, I had lost some weight, and my cholesterol had gone down, but it needed to go down further. Even so, things were on track. Then I got busy at work.
Two weeks before my Spring Break, I established a vicious work cycle. I would wake up early (usually between 5-6am), work until 2pm, come home and take a long nap, and then work some more. During this period, I thought I was eating fine, but I was ordering takeaway for most of my dinners, and I wasn’t making the time to go exercise. As a result, I was starting to feel fatigued.
Just a little longer, I thought, and then I could relax during my trip to the Azores. I was pushing myself, like I had always been able to do in the past. Why wouldn’t it work this time?
A few days before my trip to the Azores, I was entertaining the idea of not going because the idea of relaxing in Doha seemed slightly more appealing. Be that as it may, I had bought my plane tickets and booked some sightseeing opportunities on the island. I needed to follow through with this trip. I told myself that I would feel better once I was on the plane.
On the first day of Spring Break, I boarded a plane at 1am, and then I barely got any sleep on my 6-hour flight from Doha to Barcelona. Then I had a 6-hour layover in Barcelona until my connecting flight to Lisbon. Once in Lisbon, I had a shorter layover until my final connecting flight to Ponta Delgado on the São Miguel island of the Azores. I didn’t sleep much during this period, and it took about 17 hours from Doha for me to final arrive at my destination.
Once in Ponta Delgado, I checked into my Airbnb, walked across the street, and enjoyed a very savory dinner of seafood with rice. Then I went back to my Airbnb at slept.
I didn’t sleep very well that night, and the next day, I got up and went for a walk to explore Ponta Delgado. I had spent all of Friday in transit, and it was now Saturday. The day was a bit overcast, and there was a misty melancholy to the city. São Miguel is about 900 miles from the mainland of Portugal and is subject to the whims and weather of the Atlantic Ocean. Charming geometric mosaics make up many of the streets in Ponta Delgado, and the older buildings in the city are constructed from brick and rock to better stand up to the elements. I walked around for most of the morning, had a lunch of rich Azorean cuisine, and headed back to my Airbnb for nap.
When I woke up from my nap, I felt even worse than I did before. I could feel veins in my arm throbbing with every heartbeat. This was not good. So, I looked up the nearest hospital on the island and hopped in a taxi.
It was a short ride up the hill to the small hospital. Inside, there was a check in room and an assortment of sad people filled all the seats. This did not seem promising. Thankfully, the receptionist spoke English. I explained my problem to her, and she took my passport and insurance card. She then informed me that they did not accept insurance, and I would have to pay 100 euros for the visit. This was fine, I would seek reimbursement from my insurance upon return to Doha. After she processed my credit card payment, she buzzed me into the next waiting area, which was even worse than the first.
In the next waiting area, an attendant took my blood pressure. “Woah. That’s high!” He said, “We need to get you checked out.” However, the way he remarked about my blood pressure was more amused than grave. “Have a seat, and a doctor will see you.”
I looked around the waiting area, and all the seats were taken. More disturbingly, there were hospital gurneys with elderly patients up and down the hallway. All that separated these patients were thin curtain partitions. Additionally, scattered in the hallway, there were people sitting in wheelchairs with IV tubes inserted in their arms. I walked around the hallway for a few minutes before finally squeezing into a seat.
For about 45 minutes, I sat there. I listened to the elderly patients moan and toss on their gurneys. I watched as more people trickle into the waiting area. Doctors and nurses walked by me, looked me over, and then continued. People did not seem to move on from this medical purgatory.
This is not where I want things to end, I thought. So, I got up and left. No one blinked an eye as I walked out. I hopped in a taxi and headed back to my Airbnb. Then I went for a long walk along the promenade and pondered about my situation.
I was worried about things, but the long walk made me feel better. When I got back to the Airbnb, I looked up my symptoms on the internet. I went down this rabbit hole for an hour. My blood pressure was high, but I wasn’t feeling any tightness in my chest nor was I experiencing any shortness of breath. Maybe I was suffering a side effect of the bronchitis I had in January or a side effect of the COVID vaccines? There was no way of me knowing anything for sure, and since I eschewed medical advice when I left the hospital, I didn’t want to delude myself with a self-diagnosis of cherry-picked internet medical tidbits. Despite my earlier concerns, I was feeling a little better, and eventually that I night, I was able to fall asleep.
The next day was Sunday, and most of the restaurants and shops on the island were closed. I felt somewhat better, so I walked around and explored more of the small city. It drizzled slightly throughout the morning and then the sun came out. Maybe I could see this trip through to the end, I thought. However, I needed to be prepared to make arrangement to return to Doha if I my condition didn’t improve. I did not want to be stuck on this island if I needed extended medical care and end up like one of those old people tossing and turning in a crinkly paper gown on a creaky medical gurney. We’ll see how things go today.
I didn’t eat anything all morning, but I kept drinking water. After exploring the city as much as possibly, I head back to my Airbnb for some rest, and that’s when the pulsing in my veins started again. Alright, I decided, I am going back to the hospital, and I’m leaving tomorrow morning!
At the hospital, there was a different rotation of sad people in the first waiting room. A new receptionist checked me in, and I paid another 100 euros. Then I got my blood pressure taken again. It was high, but not as high as the previous day. The attendant told me to go wait in the next room. Again, elderly patients on gurneys, people in the wheelchairs with IVs, and a shortage of seats. This time, I patiently waited for two hours before finally flagging down a doctor.
Excuse me, I interjected, I have been waiting here for quite a while. When is it going to be my turn? She excused herself to find my paperwork; then she came and got me.
I explained what I had been experiencing. She took my blood pressure, and it had gone down even more in the two hours I had been waiting. Yeah, my blood pressure had spiked, but there was nothing in the short-term that could be done. She gave off the impression that things weren’t quite that serious, but I needed to deal with issue when I got home. She inquired if I wanted any medication? No, I responded, I will handle this when I get home. She was fine with my decision, and after I left, she returned to her queue of unceasing patients.
The next morning, I checked out of my Airbnb and headed to airport. I was able to book an early flight from Ponta Delgado to Lisbon to Barcelona. While in transit, I booked an Airbnb to Barcelona. Once in Barcelona, I was able to change my flight from Barcelona to Doha for an early flight at no extra cost. The next day, I was heading back to Doha.
After arriving in Doha, the next morning, I walked the two blocks to my neighborhood hospital and requested to see my doctor. During my impromptu appointment, I recounted what had occurred during my trip to the Azores and was prepared to hear about the severity of my situation.
“Why did you cancel your trip?” He asked.
What do you mean? My blood pressure spiked. I responded.
“Your blood pressure spiked because you were exhausted. You didn’t sleep well for 17 hours. How come you didn’t Whatsapp me? I would have advised you what to do.”
Well, if things took a turn for the worse, I didn’t want to be stuck at that miserable island hospital.
“Fair enough. Next time, if the same happens, Whatsapp me. I’ll tell you what to do.”
I was slightly surprised by how unfazed my doctor seemed but also relieved at the same time.
For the rest of Spring Break, I kept to myself, cooking healthy meals, taking evening walks, and trying to relax as much as possible. Although I had planned to go on an island road trip and whale watching, I had to make a tough decision. Ultimately, what drove my verdict was my desire to avoid returning to the Ponta Delgado hospital at all costs
Am I disappointed with how things turned out? Not really. The incident in the Azores provided me with a new perspective. I realized that I need to prioritize my health if I want to achieve my travel goal of visiting 50 countries by the time I turn 50. Azores, Portugal marked my 45th country. Furthermore, part of what I enjoy about traveling is problem-solving, and while a medical emergency is never something anyone wants to deal with during a trip, I appreciated the focus it required, having to think carefully about myself and my limits. Even when things don’t go according to plan, there is always a way to make the best of the situation and learn from it.
Nevertheless, one day, I hope to return to São Miguel, fully rested and ready to explore more of the island beyond the well-trod mosaic streets of Ponta Delgado, ready to stand at the rim of the island’s volcanic crater and consider what comes next.
The following are pictures from my short stay in the Azores.
opusculum 