This week Marta is on surgery and I’m on medicine.
Rounding is not quite the same as St Joe Medicine back home. The nursing students are taking their clinical assessments this week, so my first day trying to round on patients started out with serious-looking faces wondering why I was interrupting them. In the meanwhile, since my Kenyan preceptor tells me to meet him at 9:30am but doesn’t show up until 10:20am, I’ve learned to sit and relax and enjoy the scenery surrounding the female medical ward. It has been quite entertaining to watch the white pillar of smoke puff out of the kitchen just down the slope from the female ward, to greet the random persons going to and fro on the hospital compound, to follow the three cats that patrol the hospital, all the while trying to keep an eye out for my preceptor. (I know, this sounds like I have too much time on my hands….I guess I do.) Eventually I’d decide it’s time to start rounding, and I would approach the nurses and students huddled in the office. It is such a strange feeling to have all eyes on you, expecting you to say something substantial and educational, but that’s the position I’ve found myself in, when they help me interpret each patient interaction. In fact, I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how much I could teach the students, and even the nurses. I’m still trying to gauge what their knowledge base is, but sometimes I’m surprised by their appreciation for even just explaining the difference between Tylenol and ibuprofen, what I mean when I say we need to wean a patient off oxygen, and why we ask the questions we ask of post-C-section moms. When my preceptor comes as I finish my rounds, we would talk about the patients and he’d take the opportunity to teach various topics. He is quite laid back and easygoing, but he is very smart, and who can blame him for starting the day late with only 3 patients on the ward, as was the case today?
On Tuesday I went with Laura (wife of Dr. Rhodes, the surgeon) to the Children’s Home for a quick visit. The walk was about 40 minutes through the mountainous uneven red dusty roads, frequently shared by grazing sheep and wandering cattle. On our way there Laura shared with me they’ve had some problems with caretakers or board members taking the money or goods that were meant for the children, so now they mainly focus on investing in the children’s education, which no one can take from them. A field separated Children’s Home and the primary school house some of the children attend. As we climbed over the fence to go toward the Children’s Home, a group of children readily ran up to us and cried, “Candy! Candy!” Several of them touched my hair and clothes, but all slowly retreated back to the school when they realized we meant it when we said, “Hakuna candy (no candy)”. The Children’s Home we came upon was more bare than I had imagined, but they had separate rooms, outdoor shower stalls, and latrines for boys and girls. The children cook their own food, and they have a field behind the Home with maize, cabbage, a couple of other local vegetables, as well as chicken, sheep, and cows. A highlight for me was seeing the boys’ room because that’s where an Ashley original still graces one of the walls. I took a picture of your painting, Ashley! J
On our way back from the Children’s Home, several groups of school-age children met us on the way because it was lunch time, and apparently school was out. The children flocked to us and followed us as we walked on, giggling and laughing, all the while calling out, “How are you? What’s your name? How are you? What’s your name?” Laura later said she tries not to encourage them, for although some are genuinely curious and excited to see foreigners, others are just being rude. My mind flashed back to a memory of being at the cultural center with a few of my classmates back in Taiwan. We were probably in fourth grade at the time, and I can’t remember why we were at the cultural center, but we noticed a Caucasian gentleman by the windows. Someone said we should go say hi, but none of us were brave enough to actually initiate contact. After some prodding and pushing and embarrassed laughter, one of the boys went up to him and said something like “Hello” or “How are you”, before we had a brief, kind of awkward, not really fully understood conversations, ending in silly giggles on our part. I now have much sympathy and empathy for that poor gentleman, who was just minding his own business…. J I guess what goes around does come around.
While I was on call one night this week, we did a Cesarean section on a lady named Dorothy. I had to laugh because the Swahili word for baby is mtoto. What does this remind you Kansans of? We operated on Dorothy and mToto!!
A little update on previous notes. The mom who was carrying twins went into labor and delivered by Cesarean section one of the two twins. The other twin had unfortunately died in utero. The surviving baby is now in the nursery, slowly growing. Please continue to pray for them.
Thank you for all of your prayers for me. I am now well and free from chest or belly pain. I am also not taking any prophylaxis for malaria, according to the advice of three doctors and one medical student here. It would be very ironic if I were to get malaria now, but seeing this is a low-risk zone, I think I’ll be okay.
Thanks for sharing! :)
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