Air Conditioning

You would think that because it's so hot here the grayish water in the well would've absorbed some of the heat. I don't think it did. And also despite the heat, I shiver through my bucket shower, making faces at the flies and wondering if the murky water really gets me clean. I've almost convinced myself that it's cold outside, then I dry off and am hit with the heat again. I almost want to get wet again and skip the drying off part. Being wet is the only type of air conditioning there is here. Unfortunately that air conditioning doesn't last long in this heat, but it's heavenly while it lasts.

Naomi

Naomi is a strong woman. She's one of those people who has a sparkle that catches your eye and makes you smile. Here in Chad, where women have almost no rights she managed to get a divorce from her abusive husband and is now raising her four boys by herself.
She is always up for an adventure. When Charis and I decided to go to Lai for the fete, Naomi came with us and was the life of the party. I don't think she knows what it means to be embarrassed.
One of her most often repeated phrases is "We are together." Compliment her on a job well done, "We are together." Tell her a funny story, "We are together." Always. We are together.
There is just so much life in her it's amazing. She is dramatic, funny, easy to talk to and amazing. She is one person that I would love to take on a visit to America. It would be like taking a little kid into a toyland. She would be overwhelmed by everything and I'm pretty sure her vocabulary would consist of mostly awestruck 'Wows' and incredulous 'Whats'.
Oh, have I mentioned that she also has 10 languages under her belt including English, making her the perfect translator. Yep, she's superwoman. I want to be like her when I grow up.

Troubled

My eyes scan the room. I'm on a mission. I approach the bed where Dr. Mason is doing rounds. Plopping down on the other cement bedstead I am oblivious to what Dr. Mason is saying to the small group of nurses that are assisting with the rounds.  I lean forward with my camera, not really paying attention to how sick the baby might be, and ask if I can take a photo. Dr. Mason pauses in his explanation of the babies' problems, "I really don't think this one is a good one for a story. It's probably not going to make it." I pause, embarrassed, not quite comprehending what he's saying. The med student accompanying him on rounds tells me plainly, "The baby is too sick. It's going to die." I look at the baby, really look at her. She doesn't look that sick. She doesn't look like she's about ready to give up. Her breath though rattles in her chest. And suddenly I'm angry. Why does this baby have to die? She's so beautiful. So perfect. It's not her fault that she lives in a country ridden with malarial mosquitoes. She shouldn't have to die simply because she was born here in this messed up world. She's not even old enough to know that she's alive. And now she's going to die. And her mamma, her poor mamma, won't have a baby to hug and cuddle anymore. I wonder how many other losses her mom has experienced. How many miscarriages? How many of her children have succumbed to malaria? Or typhoid? Or any of the myriad of diseases that this country is cursed with? How many will? Will she end up like the grandma who came in with a prolapsed uterus, who had been pregnant 13 times, but only had one child living? Who elected to have the surgery that would close up her vagina making it impossible to ever have sex again because it was something she'd always been forced to do?

It's these things that make it so difficult here. It's not the dirt or the heat. It's not the food or the sickness. It's not even the distance from family and friends or the poverty I see everyday. It's the dejected look on the mother's face when there's nothing more you can do for her child who is dying of a preventable disease. It's the emotional drain you experience everyday when you see the way that the women are undervalued and abused. It's the knowledge that there is only so much you can do to fix the problems that are destroying this planet. 

Downward Slope

            I’m a little over halfway through my time here. As Kim would put it, “You’re on the downward slope now.” And maybe because I am, I should be focusing solely on what I’m doing here. But I’m not. I’m constantly catching myself dreaming about going home. About wrapping my Daddy and Mommy up in ginormous bear hugs. About scooping up Christian & Zoe and being able to tell them in person that I love them SOOOOO much! About meeting my new niece for the first time and telling her who I am.

            Yes, I’m counting down the days until I get back home.

            I’ve actually been counting them down since I first got here.

            I know I’m in Africa, I should be thrilled. And I am.

            But I miss my people, so shoot me.

            Besides, it’s possible to thoroughly enjoy being in one place even if you are longing for another, isn’t it? At least it seems to be possible for me…maybe I’m just strange. But isn’t that the type of relationship we’re supposed to have with the world as Christians? We can be living on this world and have happiness and be enjoying ourselves, but we’re also supposed to be yearning to go Home to be with God.

            I think God yearns for us to come Home too. I think he daydreams about bringing us home. About wrapping us up in His strong arms. About being able to communicate with us face to face like He did with Adam and Eve. About letting us see Him in person for the first time and helping us understand everything about who He is.

            Yes, He is counting down the days until He can bring us home.

            He’s actually been counting them down since Adam and Eve first sinned.

            I know He is in Heaven where everything should be perfect.

            But He misses His people, so it’s not. 

Privacy

There is no such thing as privacy here. Not really. The hospital wards are open, bed next to bed without any curtains between. When we go on rounds the bored family members of the other patients will openly stand and stare or eavesdrop as each patient is examined. Sometimes they will even become our translators when the patient speaks a language that the staff do not. HIPPA doesn’t exist here.

            There are two beds in the delivery room. Two hard, metal beds. Yesterday they were both occupied when a third lady came in. So we spread out some plastic on the floor and she delivered right there on the cold cement floor between the two beds.

            In the bloc at least, we try to keep things a little more private. Sometimes we even “lock” the doors by sticking the metal IV hanger from the gurney through the door handles to keep it shut.

There are beds on the porch outside the hospital. I would hate to be out there, it’s cold here at night, but the patients technically have a roof over their heads then and at least the sick are not sleeping straight on the hard ground.

Things are dirty here too. Dirt and spit are mixed together on the walls and floor. Garbage has the uncanny knack of finding its way into corners and under beds despite the trashcans that are emptied daily. The delivery room has blood dried on the walls even after being scrubbed with bleach water and the OR has cobwebs in the corners and dustbunnies under shelves.

And yet, somehow it is beautiful. It seems to illustrate the culture here. These people rely on each other. They have community even if they don’t have much else. Some parts of it may be malfunctional and confused. Maybe it’s not perfectly up to the standards of Western society. But they have a willingness to help each other that is beautiful to behold. Women who don’t know each other will hand off their babies to each other when they need both hands free for a task. Men who are here with their wives or other family will translate and explain things so the patient will understand.

            This place is both amazing and infuriating at the same time. And I love it and I hate it all at once. 

Difficulties

            It’s difficult knowing if some people really need help, or if they’re just hoping for a free handout. I just got back from a chicken project that was started here recently. Money for chickens and a chicken coop was given to a local family in hopes that they would be able to raise hens and make some profit from selling either the eggs or the young chickens. Two projects of this type were started at the same time. One project has 10 chickens and a whole bunch of baby chicks that roam with their mamma’s. The other project has 4 chickens and 1 rooster. No babies and no eggs.

            The later project is the one that I just returned from. I was trying to figure out how the project was going and why they had so few chickens left. I talked with the owner for awhile. He told me that the chickens had some sickness that was killing them off. He said it was malaria and he needed medicine for them. I had a really hard time keeping incredulity off of my face. I don’t know much about chickens, but them being sick with malaria? That seemed a little far-fetched. He went on to say that he wanted something other than rice to feed them, that just rice wasn’t good for them. I asked why he didn’t let them out of their pen during the day so they could forage. He answered that he was worried that they would associate with the sick chickens, maybe eat the other chickens that died, and thus become sick themselves. Ok, this is a little over the top…cannibalistic chickens? And malaria doesn’t get passed that way as far as I know. He says he needs more money, I’m not sure that I’m willing to condone giving more money to a project that isn’t succeeding.

            Thankfully, our other project is doing well. I suggested that they start selling the eggs instead of just having tons of babies, but maybe they want to sell the chickens at the market. That would probably bring good money too. Half of the money they earn is supposed to come to the hospital to help provide food for the malnourished kids in the peds ward. I’m excited about this project, it seems like it might actually be successful.

            Maybe it seems backward, but I would be more willing to pour my money and time into the second project, the one that is actually doing what it’s supposed to rather than trying to revitalize the one that’s failing. I would like some proof that the first project is actually doing what they are supposed to be doing and not just using the chickens and money to their own advantage. They started out with 10 chickens, they’ve lost over half. Is it really all due to some mysterious illness? Or are they being negligent?

            It’s difficult to know who’s telling the truth here. It’s difficult to know who to trust. I guess it’s difficult everywhere, but here there is so much corruption that it seems even harder than at other places. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m here on God’s mission and He is the judge, not me. At least I know I can trust Him. 

Hospital

I have spent the last week “stalking” the doctors as they perform their duties at the hospital. I must admit it has been very interesting. Last Monday, I discovered that Chad is a dangerous place for man parts. There were three men in the post-op ward who had injuries to their private areas. One of them had gotten it stuck in some sort of machinery. It looked quite painful. I feel sorry for any man who has to deal with those types of injuries.

            I’ve also seen something I will apparently never see happen in the States: the vaginal delivery of a breech baby. There hadn’t been many cases for the OR, so I was taking a break in the SM hut after eating lunch. Masa came in and told me there was a C-section in the OR, so I followed her over. The lady was already on the table when I got there and you could already see the baby’s feet. Mom must’ve already had kids because she was pushing like a champ. Danae decided that she was just going to let mom push, though she made sure to take extra precautions to ensure that the baby’s head wouldn’t get stuck in the birth canal. Baby came out fine although the cord was wrapped around its neck, but after cutting it off she started to squall. Danae was relieved. Evidently in the States if a baby is breech it is an instant C-section. I’m just thankful that this baby was ok.

            Last Thursday I was working in maternity. The nurse I was assisting asked me to give the patient some medicine using the IV in their hand. I’ll be honest, I haven’t actually had that much experience mixing medicine to inject or using syringes and such, so I kept looking at the nurse for confirmation that I was doing things the right way. Later, the nurse pulled me into the delivery room. She asked me a few questions about my experience in medical stuff (nonexistent) and my education. Then she told me, “Miki, when I ask you to do something, you need to act like you know what you’re doing.” I just about died laughing. It makes so much sense anyway, because you don’t want the patient freaking out about you not knowing what you’re doing, but I hadn’t really thought about it. And it reminds me so much of one of my Mommy’s mantras while I was growing up. She would tell me over and over again, “Pretend you know what you’re doing, and just do it!” I guess it is really good advice for the medical professions too.

            Then there was today. We had a relatively light schedule for the OR. The first two surgeries were quite uneventful. The first was suspected to be cancer originally, but it turned out to be a typhoid perforation in the gut which had spilled a little bit causing an infection, but then the perf had healed by itself. The second was also suspected to be cancer, but turned out to be an extremely large prostate with no cancer. I don’t know what makes prostates decide to get big on a whim. Like I said, Chad’s a dangerous place for man parts. ;)

            The third case was actually a little bit amusing. A man came in who had been stabbed in the butt, barely missing the anus. At first we thought maybe he had had a run in with a stick, but we were assured that he was stabbed with a knife. Then we thought maybe a woman got mad at him. Or maybe he was with someone else’s wife and the husband got mad at him. I really don’t know how he managed. Anyway, Maison had to give him quite a bit of ketamine (please forgive me, I don’t know how to spell it…) before the patient would let Dr. Rollin get anywhere near it. Even then we had to hold the poor guy down while Dr. Rollin stitched the wound partially closed and then packed it with betadine soaked gauze.

            The last case was definitely the most entertaining for me. A guy came in who had dislocated his hip five months before. Maison gave him a paralytic and some gas so we could work on him. Then Dr. Rollin climbed on top of the operating table while Dr. Olen held the guy by the hips on the table. And they reefed on it. But it didn’t work. So Dr. Rollin climbed down and Dr. Odee climbed on to try. This time both Dr. Olen & Dr. Rollin held the guys hips down. Still didn’t work, so one of the nurses climbed up to try, while the three doctors held the guy in place on the table. Unfortunately all of their attempts were futile. That hip would not go back into place. They were forced to give up and they plan on doing some sort of surgery on it tomorrow.

            Thus my first week in the hospital has been quite eventful and I have thoroughly enjoyed it. It’s very interesting to see the different illnesses and problems that come through. It’s also been interesting to be inside an operating room. I must say, I think it’s a very good thing that the patient’s can’t understand anything we’re saying. These doctors have some very interesting senses of humor. But it’s been good. I think I might actually be able to be a doctor forever, although I can’t say that for certain. But I’m definitely open to the idea, and if God leads in that direction, I’ll go.

The enlarged prostate. It was probably about 2/3 of my palm.

Trying to put a hip back into place.