The sun is still below the horizon, and as I slowly wake to
consciousness, I feel the hard plastic netting on my arm from the mosquito net,
the very firm foam/particle board mattress beneath me, and slightly scratchy
sheets on my legs. I smile as I realize I’m still in Kenya. The clang of a
metal door is the culprit that pulls me from sleep, and I quietly curse the one
team member who is up, trying to get out of their room, and waking the rest of
us at 6am, on the only morning in Mikinduri that we can sleep in. Oh well, TIA
(This is Africa). Behind the sound of metal you can hear a cock crowing, a
neighboring cow crying to be milked, and the chords of a church keyboard.
Pretty soon, the other two churches nearby will start their musical selections
as well and the tinny, over-synthesized keyboards will begin to compete. The
voices that you hear over the music though, is heavenly. I can imagine the
people in the church are swaying along with the music, standing and shuffling
their feet, while the choir is likely dancing up and down the aisle. It’s a
beautiful way to start a Sunday, albeit earlier than I’d like.
My second week in Mikinduri has passed, and though very
different from the first week that I spent in the schools, the people I got to
interact with made it just as special. Our team of 19 Canadians, 35 Kenyan
professionals, and 30 Kenyan students came together to see over 4000 patients
in the morimo (medical), miago (dental), and metho (vision) clinics! That is a
record number of people in one short week for us. It helps explain why we are
all so tired, but satiated, each having collected a few stories and warm
memories, in addition to helping so many. We have sent about 10 people to the
hospital, all emergent cases. One woman had appendicitis and was accompanied by
nurses Marion Jones and Kathy Murphy to Chaaria Mission Hospital, where the
woman had emergency surgery and the surgeons discovered a tumor. Team members
describe Chaaria Mission Hospital favorably, as the busy surroundings are all
influenced by the Italian surgeon, Beppe Giado, who has been working tirelessly
for years. He rarely takes breaks and if you ask him how long he has worked
there, he says it is 8 or 9 years. He’s been saying that since my first year to
Kenya, so it must really be more like 14+ years.
There was an elderly woman who came in with her feet and
legs covered in sores, hidden by plastic shopping bags. The wounds, caused by
elephantiasis, were cleaned and bandaged, and she was sent to Meru District
Hospital to get an ultrasound to ensure her veins were still functioning.
Margaret Gallant and Kathleen Mitchell both went to Meru with patients. In Meru
Hospital, the feeling is not as hopeful as Chaaria. In Meru, people are all
waiting. There are so many people, just sitting and waiting: for the doctor,
for a lab test, to pay, just waiting. Unlike the hustle of Hollywood medical
dramas, the Meru hospital is a void of urgency, and I might even say hope. The
facility has so many doctors, working very short hours, seeing so few patients,
and full to the brim of bureaucracy. We have to send a Kenyan nurse to help
navigate the long halls, and a Canadian as well to ensure the patients get
attention (and pay). Even at that, one man with very high blood pressure was
sent home rather than admitted. We eventually took him to Chaaria where he was immediately
seen. Meru hospital is wrought with apathy.
We sent a young child (5 years) to Meru Hospital to get an
initial consultation and suspect that he will be sent to Nairobi National
Hospital for surgery. The child has both male and female parts, but neither
fully formed, so when the child tries to relieve himself, the stream just drips
out. This is the first time he is seeing a doctor, as I can only speculate that
the parents were either ashamed, accepted his condition, or didn’t have the
funds to try to correct it. These are the cases that justify the clinic. Even
if many of the people who come to the clinics are only slightly sick, just
hoping to get seen by the mazungo (white person) doctor, we are really here to
weed out the cases like the little boy’s, who’s whole life can change.
In medical, the first person the patients see is Nora
Fleming, a sweet Islander with a quick smile. She does the weights and measures
for the babies, an emotionally tough job considering most babies burst into
tears when the first white person they’ve seen takes them from their mother and
stretches them out on a cold scale. Nora can get most of the babies smiling
before handing them back. This is a job Islander Desiree Leary tried one day
and considered quite difficult, not from the mechanical actions, but the
emotional impact of having kids burst into tears because of you. I’m even
cautious when approaching the kids in the halls, though I’ve learned every
child loves peek-a-boo (from a safe distance).
The dental clinics were full this week, each dentist pulling
at least 40 teeth per day. That is strenuous work for Richard Holden, an Island
dentist, not accustomed to that many patients in one day. By Wednesday though,
he was a pro, meeting his 25 patient quota by lunch, a number that was set by
his business partner Bill Allen who came to Kenya multiple times. Different
Canadians worked in dental to help keep the instruments clean and the patients
moving: Catherine Mitchell Bailey of Mississagua, and Sam Murphy and Charlee
Holden from PEI.
Cheri Butt of Mississagua has been steering the ship in
Vision, with her fluctuating team that has included Islanders Marjorie Gallant,
Margaret Gallant, Ben, Sam, Kevin, and Isaac Murphy, Charlee Holden, and
Desiree Leary. Kathy Murphy of PEI is running the medical clinic, as naturally
as if this were her regular day job. Her team hails from all over Canada:
Marion Jones (Saskatewan), Kathleen Mitchell (Halifax), Bea Hawryluk
(Vancouver), and Ida Louis (Toronto).
I’ve been working up in registration with the help of one of
the Murphy boys. It’s a careful balance at registration to ensure there are
enough patients to keep the doctors busy and see as many people as we can, but
not so many patients that the doctors are too tired for the next day. Typically
all of the patients arrive by 10am, some waiting 7 hours before being seen.
When possible, we ask half the patients to come back after lunch so they can go
do their shopping in the market rather than wait at the hospital grounds all
day. The last part of the day is spent going through the receipts and counting
the money that is collected. It was suggested by the community that we charge a
small fee (50 cents for children, a dollar for adults) so that the people take
some ownership of the process. Of course, if a person cannot pay they are let
in for free. This means, however, that a Canadian must count each of the
disgusting, dirt-encrusted bills. After fingering the money, you want to take a
full shower, but instead use hand sanitizer and avoid touching your face until
you can get home to thoroughly wash. (Ask the boys, as this is a task I have
now happily delegated).
Ida Louis, our resident physiotherapist, has been busy this
year with a line as long as 14 people waiting to talk to her. One woman came in
who had a stroke and the neglect from her family would make you cry. She was
left at home and her muscles basically withered away to the point where she can
no longer walk. She will have to do intense work to start using her legs again,
that have nothing physically wrong with them. With the rehabilitation center at
Mikinduri Hospital, it is now a joy to see so many disabled people coming to
the clinics, as we can refer them to the Rehab clinic for long-term, meaningful
help. Previously we could give them a wheelchair and hope for the best. Now,
they can see occupational therapists, physiotherapists, and receive fitted
prosthetics. A much more ideal
situation.
This has been a long blog, but only is the beginning of what
I want to say, to attempt to share the experience at clinics of the last week.
The team has worked so hard, coming back after a long day to pack pills into
little bags (to distribute to the patients), or number the forms (to keep a
count of the number of patients).
No comments:
Post a Comment