So far this fortnight has proved as full of eye-opening medical cases as the last. I have seen a couple of emergency caesarians, more strokes, much more tuberculosis and a motorcycle accident that left the rider with a broken femur and his pillion passenger with a brain contusion – the outcome of not wearing a helmet while overtaking on a blind corner. By far the most remarkable case in the last two weeks was one that resulted in brain surgery in an 85-year old.

The woman was from Kullu, a town 50 km down the valley from Manali. She had been experiencing fluctuating levels of consciousness and had a CT scan which showed a large subdural haemorrhage occupying around 15-20% of the cranial vault.

The doctors in Kullu took one look at the CT and made a prompt referral to the neurosurgical unit in Chandigarh, seven hours from Kullu. I’m still a little perplexed as to how she ended up in Manali, one hour in the opposite direction, but the general surgeon here agreed to take her on and she was whipped away to theatre.

Observing the operation was an experience I won’t forget; I’ve never seen brain surgery in New Zealand but I imagine that back home they may have the benefits of power tools. Here, the patient’s skull was opened with hand-operated drills and a Gigli saw.

With this access they were able to evacuate the blood clot which released the pressure on the brain. The best part of this case was the outcome: within 12 hours of the procedure she was alert and talking and she was discharged from hospital the next day.

Outside of the hospital, the highlight in the last fortnight has been a weekend motorcycle ride over the low Himalayan mountain passes into the rural valleys beyond. Aside from stunning vistas, what set this experience apart from the rest was just how far off the beaten trail I was.

As a tourist hub, Manali has a lot of resources put into it- the road signs are written in both Hindi and English and the road surface is immaculate (by Indian standards). As a comparison, in the next valley over I motorcycled past a crew of 20 local villagers who were grading their road with picks and shovels.

I was very interested in asking these people what kind of healthcare they experienced – it appeared the Ministry of Transport had forgotten them, had the Ministry of Health? Unfortunately my lack of Hindi proved to be my downfall; I guess it will have to wait for my next trip to India.

From my seeing bizarre pathologies through to experiencing the generosity of the locals, India has been an experience that I would love to relive some day. It has set high standards for Gibraltar, where I will be resuming my elective after Christmas holidays, to live up to.