On one of my previous visits to Vietnam—my final “scouting mission” before deciding to move to Hanoi—I looked into a lot of practical things. One of them was whether I could get Tamsulosin here.

To my surprise, you can buy it over the counter in most chemists for about 20p per tablet. Even though I was getting it free on prescription in the UK, 20p a day wasn’t going to break the bank, and it meant I had a consistent supply.

So what happened?

About two months ago, I went out for something to eat and a few beers on a Thursday night. That had become fairly normal since retiring here—eating out most evenings and having a few beers maybe 4 or 5 times a week. My girlfriend worked in one of the busy bars down Ta Hien (Beer Street), so I was often around that area.

That night, I went out around 10pm, had something to eat with a can of Coke, and then drank four bottles of local Hanoi beer.

At about 1:30am, I decided to walk home. My girlfriend was going back to her place as she was working again the next morning.

Before leaving, I went to the toilet—but although I felt like I needed to go, I couldn’t. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I assumed I’d be home in 10 minutes and could go then.

But when I got home, I was desperate to go—and still couldn’t.

Over the next hour, nothing changed. Looking back, this was foolish, but at the time I thought it might help—I drank 2 or 3 glasses of water. That just made things worse. More fluid, but still unable to urinate.

I started searching online. It suggested trying a hot shower or bath, so I had a shower. Again, no success—just more pressure and discomfort.

Then I read that a urinary blockage should be treated as a medical emergency. Not being able to urinate can cause serious permanent damage to your bladder and kidneys.

That got my attention.

At around 3am, I rang my girlfriend to ask which hospital I should go to—but she was fast asleep and didn’t answer.

So just after 3am, I walked to the nearest hospital, about six minutes from my apartment.

It was so quiet when I arrived I thought it might be closed, but a security guard appeared. He didn’t speak English, and my Vietnamese isn’t great, so I used Google Translate to explain the problem.

Slightly lost in translation, he first showed me where the toilet was. I had to explain again that I needed a doctor—it was an emergency.

He radioed someone, and within seconds a receptionist appeared—as quickly as the shopkeeper in Mr Benn!

Again using Google Translate, I explained the situation. I had to pay 1 million VND (about £32), and two doctors came to see me.

I was taken to a ward with 4 or 5 other patients and given a bed. Over the next 30 minutes, they took basic stats—height, weight, blood pressure, blood tests, temperature—and examined my stomach. By now, I was in quite a lot of pain.

Then came the catheter.

Not the most pleasant experience of my life. But within seconds of it being inserted, my bladder started to empty—and the relief was instant.

After about another 30 minutes, the doctor told me to stay in bed and that a consultant would see me in the morning, as it was quite serious.

At around 9:30am, I was woken (although I hadn’t slept much) and taken for an ultrasound.

Shortly after, I was asked to see the consultant. So there I was, walking up the corridor—catheter in, carrying a bag of urine—through a now very busy hospital.  Not my finest moment!

I know it was a serous situation but this next bit still makes me laugh.

The consultant, in very limited English, told me the results and said:
“I need to have sugary.”

Tired, stressed and in a strange envornment I thought he meant I should drink sugary drinks to help!

He then typed it into his translator…

What he actually meant was:  “I need surgery.”  Slightly different!

Naturally, I was shocked.

He explained that if I wanted the operation in Hanoi, there were three hospitals that could perform it. I asked which one he would recommend, and he suggested the German Hospital.

I asked the cost—knowing this wouldn’t be covered by insurance. He said around 40–50 million VND (£1,100–£1,450).

Then I asked how quickly it could be done.

He said he could call them—and they might be able to see me that day.  Wow.

I quickly weighed up my options.

Fly back to the UK? That’s £500–£600 for a flight, then who knows how long on the NHS waiting list or how much would it cost privately?  I later found out a friend’s father had the same problem, he was told there was a two-year wait, so he decided to go private and it cost him £8,000.

My experience of healthcare in Hanoi had been good so far—professional, efficient, just busier and less private than the UK.

So I said yes—let’s proceed here.

Thirty minutes later, the consultant returned.

“Good news—they can see you now. We’ll send you by ambulance.”

That’s when it suddenly felt very real.

I panicked slightly—not about the surgery, but practical things. I needed my phone charger (Google Translate was essential), my contact lenses, glasses, and bank card.

I asked if I could quickly go home—it was only six minutes away.  They agreed.

What happened next sums the whole experience up.

I walked home uncomfortably with the catheter, trying to hide the bag. Got to my aprtment block and got into the lift up to my apartment on the 7th floor ..…and it broke down between floors. A few minutes later, the lights went out.

So there I was—stuck in a lift, with a catheter, an ambulance waiting, and holding a bag of my own urine.

You honestly couldn’t make it up.

To be fair, I rang my landlord, and within 20 minutes someone came and got me out—but it felt like a lifetime.

Long story short, I got back, took the ambulance to the German Hospital, and was seen quickly, they were expecting me. 

Another 1 million VND, or £32 paid, more tests followed—but then came the best news of all.

No prostate cancer.

And even better—no need for surgery at this stage.

The doctor believed it could still be managed with medication. What a relief.

I was prescribed two types of medication (costing about £25 in total) and sent home for the weekend—with the catheter still in.

I had to return on Monday.  The Doctor gave me his private number and told me to ring him over the weekend if I experienced anymre problems. 

It wasn’t a comfortable weekend, but on Monday the catheter was removed—and thankfully, I could urinate again.  Not perfectly, but enough to avoid further treatment.

I’m pleased to say that after finishing the medication, I went back in for further analysis and I’ve been given the all-clear and am back on my daily Tamsulosin.

Of course, one concern remains—will it happen again?  And what about alcohol?

The doctor reassured me that as long as I’m urinating normally and not waking frequently at night (a key warning sign), I can carry on as normal.  Easy for him to say!

About six weeks later, I had my first couple of beers again.  Two nights later, I had three—and I’m happy to report everything is back to normal.

I’ll finish by saying this.

I cannot thank the doctors and nurses in Hanoi enough—at both hospitals—for the care I received as a foreigner.

The facilities and treatment were first class, easily on par with the UK.

Yes, it was busy. Yes, there was less privacy. But when you’re in pain, you just want help—and they delivered.

It wasn’t free—but as a visitor here, I completely understand that and expect I should have to pay. 

And considering the level of care I received, it was money very well spent.