Welcome to Kaunas

Welcome to Kaunas

Welcome to Kaunas, as Writing with Labradors tackles a whole new challenge. Leaving the Peninsular War and Royal Navy behind for a short time, I’ve arrived in Lithuania as a medical tourist to get my right hip replaced.

 

 

I’ve written before about the difficulties I’ve had getting treatment for severe osteoarthritis in my hips. After a lot of heart searching and even more research, my husband and I decided to take the plunge and go overseas for the operation. We read a lot about Lithuania, particularly the Nord Clinic in Kaunas, joined a patient group on Facebook and before Christmas we booked to make the trip, leaving Oscar and Alfie in the care of Jon, Anya and Anya’s partner Ollie.

Largely because of how much worse my mobility has got over the past year, we’ve not travelled much. I had a relaxed break in Mallorca at the end of 2023 and a few short trips to visit family or to attend conferences during 2024. This trip to Kaunas hardly counts as a holiday but there was still a sense of anticipation as Christmas came and went and it was time to pack for the journey.

In the chaos of packing, organising the house and trying to get the broken central heating fixed before setting off, it didn’t occur to me I was going to be nervous, but the day before we were due to travel I unexpectedly realised I was absolutely terrified. It suddenly seemed insane that I was about to set off to a country I’d never visited to have a major operation. No matter how much I’d read about the excellent record and glowing testimonials for the Nord Clinic I wanted to cancel the whole thing and go back to bed. My poor husband patiently talked me down from my panic, soothed my tearful moments and reminded me how much better my life would get when I could walk my dogs on the beach or in the forest again.

Travelling off island in winter is always a slightly risky proposition and we watched the weather reports with growing concern as snow and ice were predicted. This is seldom too much of a problem on the island but it’s a different matter in the UK and on Sunday morning we woke to news that whole areas of the UK had been affected and that Liverpool airport was temporarily closed while they tried to clear the runways and de-ice the plane. We went to Ronaldsway and waited, stress rising as the flight was delayed, then delayed again. We were due to stay overnight in Liverpool but if we didn’t make it that day we would miss our connecting flight on Monday to Kaunas and the whole thing would have to be rearranged.

A day of stress, virtually no food and complete exhaustion ended with us collapsing into bed in the Liverpool Airport Premier Inn. We got to the airport so late that it was closed and the passenger assistance we had booked completely failed, leaving us stranded on the plane. I’d like to give a heartfelt shout out to the EasyJet pilot, Mark. It wasn’t his job to wait behind with us, to chase up a man with a wheelchair or to personally help Richard to get me down the icy steps from the plane. He then went off to track down our checked-in luggage and escorted us to the taxi rank to make sure I was okay. That man went well beyond the call of duty and I’ll never forget how kind he was.

Things went much better the following day and we arrived in a snowy Kaunas to be met by the Nord Clinic driver who took us to the Hotel Kaunas. Fear of not making it in time was now replaced by fear of something going wrong with the pre-operation check-up which would prevent me having the surgery. I have no idea why I thought this might be an issue. Apart from the arthritis I’m in excellent health, very seldom get so much as a cold and had no reason to think that had suddenly changed. It turns out that pre-battle nerves can take some strange forms.

Fortunately my fears turned out to be as unnecessary as my patient husband had said they would be. All was well at the clinic this morning and with the knowledge that the surgery can go ahead, along with my first experience of the kindness and professionalism of the Nord Clinic staff, my mood improved significantly. Suddenly I realised I was in a new city, the snow had mostly gone, though it was cold and drizzling rain and I wanted to go out.

Richard made faint murmuring sounds about whether it was wise to go for a walk when the pavements are still covered in slush and I forgot to bring my walking stick from home. He didn’t really argue for long though. I’d spent far too long inside over the past few days, perched on uncomfortable airport seats or wedged painfully into airplane seats without enough leg room. I set off with a mission; I wanted to see the river and at least a little bit of the old town. Richard had a mission of his own which was to buy me a new walking stick before I killed myself.

Both missions were successful. We made it down to the old town despite slightly miserable weather and once we got there, Richard gleefully spotted some rather lovely hand carved walking sticks in a shop which sold local arts and crafts. The shopkeeper helped me to test for the right size and I was delighted with my new stick, for several reasons. It will enable me to make the most of my limited visit to Kaunas before I’m laid up after the operation. It will also be a rather lovely souvenir. Finally, it made me think affectionately of my late father, who bequeathed me a fine collection of walking sticks, mainly because of the number of times he left home without his and had to buy a new one while he was away. I felt like a bit of an idiot for forgetting mine but I’m rather pleased now. I just have to make sure I don’t leave this one in the hotel room.

Our hotel is on the Laisvės Alėja which translates as Liberty Boulevard. It is apparently the longest pedestrian street in Eastern Europe and was mostly built in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. On our way down to the old town we passed an open square with several statues and a memorial plaque. It looks a little bare at this time of year though I suspect it must be pretty in the summer months. The plaque tells a tragic story from a very different era to the one I’m used to reading and writing about. It is a memorial to Romas Kalanta, a 19-year-old Lithuanian student who killed himself by self-immolation in an act of protest against the Soviet regime in Lithuania. 

At noon on 14 May 1972, Kalanta poured three litres of petrol over himself and set himself on fire in the square in front of the Kaunas State Musical Theatre where, in 1940, a puppet legislature had declared the establishment of the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic and petitioned the Soviet Union to admit Lithuania as one of the soviet socialist republics. He left a note on a bench which blamed the regime for his death. Kalanta’s suicide. His death provoked a wave of anti-Soviet public demonstrations throughout 1972 and 1973 including 13 other suicides by fire. 

I’d done a little reading about the history of Lithuania before setting out on this trip, so I knew the outline of its struggle with the Soviet Union. Reading about a nineteen year old giving his life in such a horrific way brought the background sharply into focus. As always, it’s the story of individuals that makes history real for me and this was such a sad one.

There are some lovely buildings in the old town, though slippery streets and some major building work meant I was cautious about exploring as much as I wanted to. I really took a liking to this particular house though. It’s known as the House of Perkunas which means the House of Thunder and was named after a sculpture of the god Perkunas which was found in the house during some renovations in 1818. The house was built at the end of the fifteenth century by a wealthy townsman and was later the home of a famous Jesuit historian. In 1844 the first drama theatre in Kaunas was established there. In 1991 it was returned to the Jesuits and is now used for educational purposes as well as housing a museum dedicated to the poet Adam Mickiewicz.

 

By the time I staggered back to the hotel I was in some pain, though delighted with myself for walking so far. We rewarded ourselves with coffee and pastries in the coffee shop next to the hotel. Being restricted in what I can do and where I can go has been a big problem for me and I was pleased to have seen even a little bit of Kaunas. I have a whole day tomorrow and if the weather allows and I feel up to it, I’m hoping to walk over to the castle and get in a tiny bit of history tourism to go along with my medical tourism.

 

We found a lovely restaurant last night, called the Wood Fired Kitchen. It’s directly opposite our hotel and given its extensive menu, nice atmosphere and good beer we’ve decided not to be too adventurous with eating out and to go back there. It’s tempting to feel I should explore but this week I’m happy with familiarity. I’ve been very impressed so far with how friendly the people of Kaunas have been. Many of them speak some English and I’ve found them very welcoming and helpful.

Thanks to everyone who has sent me good luck messages over the past few weeks. I’ll keep everybody updated with how things are going and hopefully, with how work is progressing while I’m convalescing. After all, there are always stories to be written.

Signing off for today from Writing with Labradors does Lithuania. Looking forward to a new hip and some new adventures once this operation is done.

Writing with Labradors does Lithuania

Writing with Labradors does Lithuania

It’s been a while since I did much of a personal update on here. With book nine of the Peninsular War Saga almost ready to launch, the Christmas short story written and work underway on the new Age of Sail book for Sapere Books, I thought I’d take time to let you know what’s been happening for me.

 

I’ve mentioned a few times that this has been a difficult year. Some of that has been family matters which are now much improved, but a big part of it has been my health. I’ve suffered for years with osteoarthritis in both hips and they’ve been getting steadily worse. I’ve always taken the view that pain is manageable and while I can still get out and about, life is good.

At the end of August, I had a fall and then another one. Quite suddenly the pain went off the scale and my mobility decreased very quickly. I went to the GP and had x-rays. There was nothing broken but my arthritis in both hips has moved from moderate to severe. My right hip is the worst and I’m now having to use a walking stick because every now and then it just gives way.

Working from home as I do, my ability to write hasn’t really been impacted that much. Occasionally I forget, and it’s only when I stand up and the pain hits that I remember. But there’s so much else I can’t do. My life has been turned upside down in less than six months.

I can’t walk my dogs. Those of you who have followed me for a while know that Oscar and Alfie, my two Labradors, are the joy of my life. Winter is a favourite time for walking, since they love splashing through puddles and racing up and down a windswept beach. I miss that with a permanent ache in my soul.

Housework is incredibly difficult. I can’t haul the vacuum cleaner about any more, and everything has to be done one-handed so that I can use my stick to balance. Cooking is okay if it’s something quick, but I need to sit down in between which makes more complicated meals a trial.

Gardening is almost impossible. I ask other people to rake up leaves and tidy beds, and there are bulbs in my shed which probably aren’t going to get planted this year. I’m so sad about it.

I don’t sleep. I doze off but wake up every time I move in my sleep and the pain knifes through me. I have strong painkillers and they work well for a few hours, but the effect wears off long before I can take another dose. I’m sleep deprived in a way that I’ve not been since having a new-born baby and with far less joy.

Everything is difficult. Shopping, laundry, tidying the house. There are other people who can step in and pick up the load but I loathe the loss of independence and the sense of helplessness. I’m a naturally happy, optimistic person but sometimes now I just can’t maintain that.

There’s a solution of course. I need a hip replacement. Actually I need two, but the right hip is the one causing most of the pain so that needs to be done first. It needs to be done now, but the NHS on the Isle of Man is in the same dire state as the NHS in the UK and the wait is unbearable. I’ve been told by my GP that it will take at least a year to see an orthopaedic consultant. Until that happens, I don’t even show up on the waiting list. That list is likely to be years.

We’ve spent months discussing options. The cost of private treatment in the UK has risen sharply over the past few years. We’re both self-employed, with no company health plan. Funding it ourselves is the only option. After a lot of research and a good deal of heart-searching, I’ve decided to travel overseas, where I can get a very comprehensive treatment plan for around half the cost. I could never have imagined doing this a few years ago, but I’m desperate enough to try anything now.

The Nord clinic in Kaunas, Lithuania has been remarkably helpful and easy to deal with from start to finish. They’re seeing so many people like me coming from the UK that they’ve refined their system so that it works seamlessly. After the operation I’ll stay for seven days physio and rehabilitation. I’ve joined a patient group and got to know a number of people who have been through this process and their stories are very reassuring. I’m scared but I’m determined.

It won’t surprise any of my readers that I’m already working out how to set a Napoleonic short story in Lithuania. I mean I’ll be laid up. I’ll have to have something to do while I’m there.

So why have I shared all this, when generally I like to write fun stories about my dogs or lovely walks through the glens of the Isle of Man? It isn’t really because I wanted to vent about the unfairness of it all. I have family and friends I can share that with. Mostly I think it’s because I hope it might help some people who are also struggling with this. I’ve felt very down about it. Almost desperate at times, as the people I love carry on their lives around me and I’m marooned here, in a place where I can’t be myself any more.

What I’ve learned from this process is that paying for private treatment for something this painful and disabling is no longer exclusive to the rich and privileged. I’ve talked to people who have taken out loans, dipped into their pension pots and even tried crowdfunding in their desperation. One lady sold her home and downsized because she valued being able to walk over a bigger house. And these, like me, are the lucky ones.

I can’t stop thinking about the people who can’t manage this no matter what they do. They’re reading the news about further cuts to the health budget and wondering if they’ll ever walk properly again. Their joints are deteriorating along with their mental health and the operation gets more challenging with every year’s delay.

There’s no quick or easy solution to this. Some people rant about how useless the NHS is. Other people are angry about that and list all the ways it has worked for them. Some blame fifteen years of Conservative government. Others blame all the things Labour did wrong before that. I can find bits that make sense in all of this, but the truth is that we’re an ageing population; the NHS hasn’t worked well for years and the abandonment of almost all healthcare during lockdowns has left a backlog which may never be cleared. There’s no point in apportioning blame. Looking for solutions would be far more helpful. I don’t do political debate in public and I’m not going to try.

I’m incredibly grateful that my amazing husband is completely supportive and will be with me every step of the way. I’m lucky that we’re in a position to afford this, though not especially easily. I can look forward to a time when I can walk my dogs through a forest again.

Photo by DAVID ILIFF. License: CC BY-SA 3.0

In the meantime, my brain is mostly still working and I can still type. I can write about people scaling mountains and hauling on sails, even if I struggle to get to the back of the garden at times. I’ll keep everybody updated on progress. Wish me luck and expect to learn some information about Lithuania during the Napoleonic Era along the way.

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