A Cure-All Remedy for Tumors and Tiredness

I have a strange little lump underneath my chin, so decided to seek out a dermatologist for a diagnosis. What I found was a creative sales pitch for a cure-all home remedy.

First I visited a clinic in the area I call Medical Alley. It's a section of Bishkek full of pharmacies and diagnostic centers orbiting the National Hospital mothership. The doctor there said she did not know any dermatologists, but after a few calls, referred me to the People's Medical Center of Kyrgyzstan and drew me a map.

The medical center is a grand old building, with a hall of tired gray granite and white marble highlights. Stylized national designs spiral around the directory of doctors and the pay booths.

On the fourth floor, I found a row of patients sitting in the dark. The doctor, it seemed, was not in. I was debating whether to leave when a young man came jogging up the stairs. "Come on in," he said. Dr. Razdorsky at my service.

I pointed to the lump -- just under my jawline -- and confessed my darkest fear. I was afraid I might be host to some kind of a weird bug that had laid an egg under my skin. This had happened to a friend of mine in Belize.

The glass beakers on Dr. Razdorsky's desk and a Breathalyzer-like contraption with hoses and "Vulcan-2" inscribed on the side in Cyrillic did little to reassure me, but the doctor's comments scared me even more.

"It is just a tumor," he said in broken English. "But don't worry, it's nothing serious." My heart leapt. A tumor!? This changed things.

"I know all the bugs here," he continued. "And none is that interesting or special."

OK, I thought, this is a good sign. I was clearly in good hands.

Then he said he would give me some oil to rub on my tumor, which actually turned out to be just an inflammation. (The word in Russian means both.) As he spoke, he buttoned up the white smock he had thrown on upon entering the room.

"This is ozone oil, from gas," he explained, handing me an unmarked white plastic tube from a neat pile. "Smells like watermelon, no?"

My skepticism must have shown, because Dr. Razdorsky handed me a brochure outlining the myriad uses of his magic potion, which was complete with his cell phone number.

"It kills all things animal or living," he said. "If taken intravenously, it helps with chronic tiredness."

I am not about to shoot up the stuff, but I figure it cannot hurt to rub some on my face. What is the worst a little gas-infused olive oil could do?

Ethan Wilensky-Lanford is a freelance reporter in Central Asia.