Moving on in Mostar

And finally interning as a “medicinal sister”

Written by

Dieter

Published

March 26th, 2022

In

Zenica, Bosnia

WELCOME BACK! KAKO STE?

With one week to go, it once again has become clear how living the life and trying to keep up writing about it, is harder than it seems. Since last time you were here, I’ve spent a weekend in Mostar, did one workout in the local gym, ate Burek for the first time, participated in a “wine and cheese” night, and finally started my internship in the profession that’s locally known as “medicinal sisters”. If this short summary satisfied your hunger for beautiful English prose, you’re welcome. If on the other hand, you enjoyed this appetizer and would like to have a main course as well, please be seated. Get comfortable, and read on!

Before we continue, though, I feel it’s important to clarify my feelings towards Bosnian people. Yes, I might have made a little fun of them in my last post, but I was obviously joking. No Bosnian hearts were intentionally broken during the creation of this blog. In fact, since arriving here, people have been nothing but super friendly. From the uni students buying us drinks, to the chief of medicine inviting us to go party with her daughter and the nurse slash world famous DJ slash bar owner inviting us for drinks at his bar, every single one of them has been asking interested questions, proposing to help and suggesting to contact them in case we need anything. Some might speak no English at all, or know only a few words, but if you take the effort of trying to say a few things in Bosnian, you’ll receive the biggest smile and they’ll use whatever means possible to help you (while still talking quickly in Bosnian of course).

That being said, after our snowy visit to Sarajevo, and in the absence of any information on our internship, my fellow Belgian students and I decided to schedule our next trip to somewhere warm and sunny. After comparing temperatures, bus schedules and chances of rain, Mostar won the competition by a full two degrees. So on Friday morning we left Zenica again for a bus ride of four hours, over mountains with breathtaking views and through tunnels that gave you instant claustrophobia, to the city with the famous bridge.

Within less than an hour after our arrival, though, it became clear that there was not much more than a famous bridge to visit. While looking for a place to have lunch, we had already walked through the entire touristy old town without realising it (since it was too cold for tourists yet). Luckily it was warm, there was a lot of sunshine and a McDonald’s (something we had been missing for more than a week now!) to keep us happy. Also on the agenda was a long hike to a viewpoint on top of a nearby mountain. Not only was it a perfect place to take some pictures, it also served as an ideal way to challenge myself by walking over the viewing platform with the glass floor, all the way up above the city.

Having recharged and being reloaded with some much needed sunshine, we headed back to Zenica. Fast forward a few days, and after being swabbed by the Department of Health, I was declared fit for duty as a medicinska sestra – only a mere nine days after I was supposed to start.

The hospital is in reality one big campus, with different buildings spread out across a hillside. So yes, going from one department to another usually involves a lot of stairs. Scattered in between are parking spots, although no general rules for parking seem to apply. The main guideline seems not to block the ambulance’s path. And parking is free, which is something Belgian hospitals could learn from…

The buildings itself are pretty old, with cracked tiles on the floor, and walls painted in a white-isch yellow. Patients sleep in rooms with three to eight(!) beds, without any kind of separating curtain. The bathrooms, one per gender, are shared by the entire department, and serve both as toilet and smoking room for patients. Doors to the rooms open outwards, into corridors that generally are barely wide enough for people to still pass once the doors are open.

In almost every way possible, it’s different than the system I’m used to in Belgium. Nursing techniques are performed differently, and usually in ways that I couldn’t imagine – with a seemingly sole focus on the patient’s physical health, forsaking the mental and psychological aspects. Yet, with over 600 nursing students in the entire hospital (out of which almost 40% is male, yay!), there’s no lack of healthcare providers.

All these differences, though, have had one huge advantage; doors to wards were opened that I could only imagine going through as a second year nursing student in Belgium. I’ve been to the dialysis department (where external machines filter blood from patients with failing kidneys) and visited intensive care units, I’ve witnessed small operations and was around when another patient’s plasma was exchanged for fresh fluid.

I’ve also been really lucky to have been able to assist with administering some therapies, preparing medications and observing doctors during rounds. With the few Bosnian words I know (and careful not to throw any swear words in the mix), I’ve been able to communicate with patients and other nurses. And what we couldn’t express with words, we said with our eyes and smiles…

DINO OUT

So that’s it for me for now. In the coming (last) for days you’ll find me in the gynaecology, the surgery and the psychiatry ward. Up until now I’ve only had to leave a patient’s room once because my stomach couldn’t process the way they were treating an old patient, so I’m curious to see how it’s going to be next week! Keep sending me love, Dino (as I’ve been calling myself here, since Dieter turned out to be too difficult) loves it. And while you’re at it, please send me pictures of fruit and vegetables, I sincerely miss them! Cao!