Bangkok Got Into My Heart... Literally!
- Richard Namikas
- Jul 21
- 5 min read
Four years ago in Florida, I had a heart ablation to treat atrial fibrillation (A-Fib). The entire ordeal dragged on for three or four months, requiring endless doctor visits and battery after battery of tests. In the end, I was slapped with a $7,500 deductible—part of nearly $100,000 billed to the hospital—only to find out two months later that I was no better off than before.
Fast forward to my hernia surgery in Cairns, Australia: I noticed my A-Fib frequency was creeping back up. Suddenly, I found myself deadlocked on a decision: Should I attempt a second ablation? Where? And when?
I had two choices:
Return to the U.S. and spend another few months navigating the medical system, hoping for better results this time around.
Use our four-day stay in Bangkok, Thailand, to visit Bumrungrad International Hospital and see what they could do.
I opted for Bangkok. I forwarded my test records from Florida to the hospital and scheduled a few appointments—not just for an EKG and a cardiology consult, but also a quick visit with a dermatologist to take full advantage of the access to care.
On the morning of our second day, Ellie and I arrived at the hospital, checked in, and handed over our information. We headed down to get my EKG done about half an hour before my scheduled appointment, and they took me in right away.
From there, I saw the cardiologist. He already had my Florida medical records alongside my fresh EKG results, and we talked through my history. He wanted an echocardiogram done before finalizing the treatment plan, which was arranged within the hour.
After reviewing the echo, he scheduled my ablation for the very next day.
I would check in overnight and have the procedure the following morning. I’d spend the night after the procedure recovering in the hospital—and while I’d be billed for that second night, the pre-op night was included. Best of all, Ellie was able to stay in the room with me.
Financially, it cost a bit more than my U.S. insurance deductible, but far less than the total bill charged to the American hospital system. Plus, it was happening immediately. No flying back and forth to the U.S., and no waiting weeks or months just to secure back-to-back appointments—assuming I could even get them.
By 2:30 PM, I had completed:
An EKG
An echocardiogram
Two consults with the hospital’s lead cardiologist
One consult with a dermatologist, complete with a full skin check
After settling the financial arrangements with the hospital, Ellie and I took a walk into town, enjoyed dinner, and checked into my room for the night. Oh yeah, and found a great silk robe that I could use during my recovery. And long after.
Not long after settling in, an attendant arrived to present me with official Bumrungrad pajamas. Shortly after, a nurse brought a kit to set up my PICC line and draw blood for the morning's procedure. At 1:00 AM, she returned to set up an IV that would stay with me for the next 12 hours. By 6:30 AM, the staff came in to take my vitals. Then, two technicians shaved me from below the chin to just above my knees, after which I took a shower to wash off the excess hair.
Soon, two young, professional technicians entered carrying what looked like a massive pizza box. When I made a comment about it, they laughed politely. Inside was a two-piece electronic vest made of a rubberized material with embedded circuits and suction-cup-like contacts on the inside—resembling a non-skid bath mat. They fitted it to my bare chest for heart mapping, which was ordered by my specialist, Dr. Konlawee Nademanee.
After kissing Ellie goodbye, I was rolled away in a wheelchair for a pre-op CT scan.
I was wrapped up like a burrito and slid into the giant electronic "bagel." An automated voice instructed me when to breathe and when to hold it. Ten minutes later, I was back in the elevator.
An older woman covered head-to-toe in a black hijab spoke to us in an unfamiliar, lilting language. A woman standing next to me looked around in confusion. The first woman spoke again, holding both hands up to her eyes like "OK" signs. I chimed in, guessing she was looking for the ophthalmology department.
As I was rolled into the pre-op area, I couldn't help but marvel at how truly international this hospital was. Upon request they would assign you an interpreter and a guide to take you from appointment to appointment. Apparently she had not made such a request.
A long hallway lined with rolling hospital beds led to dozens of small pre-op rooms with floor-to-ceiling glass doors. I was transferred to a fresh bed inside one of the rooms. After staff verified my wristband and personal info for the tenth time, I was covered with a warm sheet and told it would be about an hour and a half until the procedure began. It was just before 8:00 AM.
I was left with my thoughts for over an hour. At 9:20 AM, a nurse came in and apologized profusely.
"Your procedure has been postponed."
My heart skipped a beat. Oh crap. Now what?
Her next words were an immediate relief: "By one half hour."
Ten o'clock instead of 9:30 AM? No big deal at all.
The anesthesiologist stopped by to introduce himself and walk me through the process, followed shortly thereafter by the surgeon. Everything was on track. After a quick bathroom stop, I was rolled into the freezing surgical suite and transferred onto a warm operating table. A team of eight technicians and assistants quickly and precisely set up everything for the procedure.
A mask was placed over my mouth and nose as the anesthesiologist explained I’d be receiving oxygen and taking a nap soon. The PICC line on the back of my left hand delivered a cold rush of medication.
I drifted off into a dream about picking activities for our upcoming trip to Vietnam.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the recovery room. Looking at the clock, it was almost noon. The whole thing went far quicker than I expected.
Someone mentioned they hadn't been able to reach Ellie, so I asked if they could grab my phone so I could message her. By the time my phone arrived from upstairs, Ellie was already there.
The doctor informed us that the procedure went quickly and smoothly, and he expected a full recovery (though it typically takes about two months for the heart to fully stabilize after an ablation).
During my first surgery in 2022, I was sore and under strict activity restrictions for weeks. I had had a hole the size of a pencil eraser in my groin and a lot of discomfort. This time there were three small holes the size of a hair follicle, I felt no pain at all and was only put on light duty for a couple of days.
In fact, after my mandatory overnight stay, I went out with Ellie and her friend, Sabrina, to Emsphere and Soi Cowboy.
We were back in bed before midnight, and the next day—after a quick stop at the Sanctuary of Truth—we were back on the ship!
Always heard such great things about the Bancock Hospitals, even this one. The service is suppose to be superior. They really take care of their patients.
Sandy Collier
Wow, glad things went well and you managed to enjoy Bangkok, facilities and city, culture alike!
Great news, Ric. I hope your recovery speeds by. Hi to Ellie and Sabrina. (Laura L)
Glad you got such good care. Please take care of yourself. We don't want any bad news from you.
Love, Gary and Sandy