Does that really need an introduction?
I didn’t think I was going to get to go to Church but at the last minute Dr. Peduche found someone who would take me…to the 7 A.M. service. Beggars cannot be choosers so obviously I didn’t sleep at all that night worried I would miss the wake up time for getting to mass. I showered at 3 O’Clock in the morning when I couldn’t sleep and you know what I still didn’t have any hot water and everyone knows there is nothing better than a shower at 3 A.M. with cold water.
I went down to meet her (Theodora-the physiotherapist) at the gate for a ride to mass. It’s weird it being a seventh day hospital it was open and ready to go first thing Sunday morning. It’s a little unnerving standing by a gate waiting for someone to pick you up and having no idea what they look like. 6:40 our meet up time, came and went, but I have become an expert in Africa time and so I wasn’t surprised when the taxi pulled up at 6:50. The door just kind of opened and no one got out so I went over and made sure to ask if it was Theodora before just getting in a random car, because let’s face it, if I’d been less awake I might have done just that.
Mwami is in the only forested part of the valley so as you come down from it it opens up into a savannah and you can see the mountains across. There aren’t a lot of cars on this road–mostly bicycles that come onto the road from mystery trails that I assume lead to villages. The church was about three miles down the road and even though we arrived after 7 no one had gone in the building yet. They were waiting for the priest. The inside of the building was rather sparce. There weren’t even pews just little shin high benches to sit on. The tabernacle although it was pretty obvious was helpfully labeled as well–just in case. I was hopeful for mass in English but no it was in Nchanga (which I might be spelling wrong). The singing was really beautiful once again and similarly joyful but in a much more reserved way. It was like a soft sunrise with beautifully harmonized voices that were distinct in their own way and just a little bit off of pitch–intentionally so I think.
After mass they had me go up front to introduce myself–which was a painful experience. First I didn’t talk loud enough. And then they didn’t understand me because I don’t speak Nchanga and then my name is really difficult. The deacon thought it was hilarious–me less so. But they warmly welcomed me and someone even wanted a picture with me which does fantastic things to my ego.
Theodora had me get some pictures in the church but I kept getting distracted by chickens running past the doorway. When I got back I ate a lovely breakfast–you’ll never guess what it was, peanutbutter, bread, banana, and coffee! I was supposed to shadow Dr. Peduche on rounds that morning which she started at 8. It was about 10 A.M. when I went down there. I got to the hospital complex and realized there are a lot of wards–where am I going to find the Doctor? I don’t know why I thought it would be immediately obvious where she might be a 10 A.M. on a sunday morning.
The hospital from one end to another is a one story complex. The out patient department including the pharmacy and physiotherapy room and then through their is a courtyard off of which is the pediatric ward. The next building down the line has the maternity ward and the paying portion of the hospital. They call it fast lane and it’s like urgent care.
The next building is the x-ray on one side and the Operating Room (Theater is what they call it) on the other. Then the next building has the male and female ward, the records, and the sole doctors office. I was completely unsure where to find her and at this point didn’t know the hospital at all–it just appeared to be a maze of buildings because apart from the hospital that I have just described there are some quarantine areas, parts of the nursing college, a kitchen, a dining hall, some random workshop buildings, and the place where the pregnant ladies stay.
I wandered around half heartedly skirting the edge of the hospital before settling down in the sun to read. I’d texted her so I figured she’d tell me what ward she was in eventually. This does mean I got to sit outside and read for a while longer. When 40 minutes had passed by and she hadn’t responded I was beginning to wonder if I should start my ward by ward search. Thankfully Dr. Ang happened by.
“Hi Claire, what are you doing?”
“Waiting, I don’t know where Dr. Peduche is and I’m supposed to shadow her.”
“Oh I know, follow me!”
First though we stopped off at the female ward so he could release some patients and show me their long term case of a burn victim. This poor woman had been in there for two months, was missing several fingers and I won’t go into any more detail than that.
We found Dr. Peduche in the maternity ward and she has a kind of scary efficiency about her. “Oh hi Claire, I’m sorry I didn’t have my phone on me.” She then turned and went back to what she was doing. We rapid fire went through the patients she had left to see which were pregnant mothers in for different complaints, a lot of malaria, one lady that Dr. Peduche literally said, “Why are you here? Go home stop complaining.” (The patient didn’t speak English so I hope this got translated a little less bluntly.) Even better they were all younger than me.
If you are past 35 weeks you just live on the compound till you deliver so most of these woman went back to the pregnancy shelter. There was a poor lady getting ready to go home with her new baby who discovered that her and her boyfriend had an STD. She wanted to stay with him but wasn’t sure how to get ahold of him to give him the good news–besides you know that he’s a father.
It is really interesting going on rounds with a doctor who is taking care of patients where neither of them are fluent in each others languages. Dr. Peduche can get by in Nchanga but the nurse was always on standby to help her out when needed. Finally, we went to the fast lane where a donor for the hospital was waiting–he hadn’t been waiting for long though because you don’t keep the man who funds some of your hospital waiting for long. The guys name was Rafiki and he’s a grocery store tycoon in Chipata. He was pretty funny and very nice. He was bemoaning how Mwami has gotten to big and that there are people everywhere. I understand the sentiment but everynight when I go on walks I don’t run into hardly anyone.
Dr. Peduche was scraping dead skin off of an ulcer he’d had for six years and I got dizzy and nearly passed out. (Update three days later I have gotten over this weird affliction so no worries.) I’d never had this happen before and I don’t know if it was the smell or what but it made me feel a little concerned especially because my current career goal is to become a doctor where nothing under the sun bothers you. (Your arm is haning on by a thread, whats for lunch, mentality)
Thankfully that was the end of the day and I was released. I had time to go for a walk too which made it even better. My original goal was to climb the hill across the hospital from where I live. You notice the word original well as soon as I stepped off the road my brain went “snakes.” What happens when I run into one? I don’t want to die here. It felt even more clandestine because I was not on a trail. “What happens if a Zambian sees me a random white girl in the woods and I’m not supposed to be here.” This resulted in a mixture of very slow careful movement and trying to get out of sight of the road as quickly as possible. The forest is very open and dry. The bugs make this incredible buzzing sound the entire time and there isn’t much undergrowth at all.
Just as I was wondering about the pros and cons of this idea I got to a well worn trail–must be one of their village trails. I started following it as it seemed more appealing than tiptoeing through more underbrush. The trail trended south towards Malawi and was really picturesque. When I saw the village up ahead I ended my trek as I didn’t want to disturb them/I don’t know what I’d say popping out of the woods. “Oh hi, I found your trail on accident and I’m trying to find my way around. Oh you don’t speak English, what’s the extent of my Nchanga-”mile bwangi?’” (Hi how are you?) That’s about as far as it goes. Everyone I work with and live with either speaks English or Spanish so it isn’t something I’ve had to work at quite as much as I did with my Swahili.
On my way back up the trail I noticed a small cut off that went up the mountain–this is a good one to follow. It led up to a ridge line and then to a clearing where there was a stack of stones and a cleared space and opposite a rock that was perfect for sitting on. I’m not sure if it was a grave or a sacred spot but it was really pretty to sit in and pray as the sun came through the trees.
Snakes kept me from going further so I headed back down the trail and walked to the church. There were kids inside singing hymns which was super cute. “Heaven is for kids,” was my personal favorite–it was about heaven having cute animals in it so it was a place for kids, but if you are a grown up that is okay. It was a little weird to hear these kids singing in English but to each their own.
I headed back home ate dinner and at last yes I did my laundry while watching Princess Mononoke be proud of me.
Monday morning my first real day yay! Or not yay–it was kind of an embarrassment in a lot of ways but hey as you’ll see when I continue to catch up–I am adapting fast. Mondays at the hospital start with a 7:00 A.M. prayer service led by Pastor Dream himself. No one is very punctual and so I showed up at 7:15 and I was still early. We filled the time by singing songs until a sufficient number of people had showed up. The service was an opening prayer and then a sermon.
Pastor Dream were a double act. Pastor Dream preached very excitedly in English. He was so excited that he would gesture up down everywhere and slap his hand on the podium and sometimes get so excited that he just had to walk away from the podium. His dad repeated it all in Nchala (I learned how to spell it just now) with much more reserved hand gestures–probably because it would have looked like a cat fight if he’d been equally as excited.
He preached on missionary work and our duty and our gifts and pulled from lots of random bible passages. It was pretty good except he kept talking about how we were saving the patients with our amazing gifts and the patients needed us and the patients were in the next room listening which was a little awkward. It would have been less awkward if the pastors dad hadn’t been broadcasting everything he said in Nchala.
After the prayer was over I got to talk to Pastor Dream yet again. This time he asked me to come to church and preach. Being the good Catholic I am I said, “sure if I can play the piano.” The unfortunate thing is the theology I’m reading is on the Eucharist and the other thing I’m very well versed on is the saints and I don’t think those are hot topics at the SDA.
Ah well I like listening to Pastor speak so it’s not bad. Then it was off to the theater (OR) with Dr. Ang. I was a little trepedacious. I’d heard Dr. Peduche talk excitedly about an amputation she’d done last week–which I’m not sure I was ready for. I wasn’t feeling particularly well that day to begin with.
I scrubbed up for the first time which felt pretty badass tied my hair up, put on a mask–immediately had my glassess fog up and cursed masks–and slipped on my state of the art surgery shoes…crocs.
Two cirmuscisions was the start of the day and it’s pretty entertaining to watch a sobbing child be knocked out instantaneously. They just stop mid cry and their head rolls back. Before we got very far on this one Mr. Nkomo the head of the OR pulled me out for a tour. His name is Lazarus and he keeps giving me his number for taxi rides but I just don’t know if that is his main goal so I haven’t texted him yet.
There are two rooms in the OR, one more minor surgeries and one for major surgeries like C-Sections. In between it is the scrub up room and behind that is the cleaning room. There is a sterilization room across the hall and through there is the lunch room. The Theater nurses don’t leave during their shift so the lunch gets handed through a window. At the end of the operating room hall there is a door leading to labor and delivery so that they can bring C-sections in through there. I think one of the reasons they do so many of these is that they don’t have a way of inducing patients but I have to ask later to be sure.
There are also several storage closets and a space for writing notes along with the main entrance and a changing room for girls and one for guys. Thats the space. It’s definitely the cleanest in the whole hospital. Mr. Nkoma also lectured me exstensively on the gear I had to wear while in his surgery.
By the time I got back to watch the circumsicion it was pretty much done so I had to wait till the next one to see something. Unfortunately, 10 minutes into the next one as I was watching them get a hold of the foreskin I started getting light headed, dizzy, and my vision started going. “Well,” I thought, “I’m going to make an excellent doctor.” And then I walked dignified out of the room and then stumbled to the changing room where I slid against the wall and put my head in between my knees. “What am I doing? This is really unfortunate. I can’t even watch a circumcision and I’m about to fall over.”
I took some deep breaths and waited till my ears stopped ringing. “Please God, please don’t let me pass out in front of them that’ll destroy my dignity and also I’ll be a terrible doctor and wow what is going on?”
By the time I got back to the operating room they were finishing the procedure so I’ll admit I still haven’t really seen a circumsicion. Becky the anesthesiolgist asked if I was alright.
“Yep,” I lied, “Just had to go to the bathroom.” It was my hope that I could get a grip.
The next case was a repair of a previous surgery that had been infected on the face-just closing a trauma wound. So Dr. Ang cleaned it up and restiched it. I again got dizzy but I was holding it together well enough that I was still standing when they brought me a chair because it was a long procedure. In my head I thought, I should really tell Dr. Ang that I’m not feeling well–so obviously before the next surgery instead of saying this I said yes of course I’ll assist you on the hernia removal.
I did get a crash course on washing hands for surgery and I had to do it about four times before it was up to Dr. Ang’s standards. He then had them raise the table to my height and had the nurse get him a stool to stand on. We got the wound open I got to feel around for a minute and we were moving a muscle when I started to pass out. That was the end of my first assist. I went out and hung out with Becky who wasn’t doing the anesthesia for this case.
She started by asking if I was okay and what was wrong. I responded that I’d been light headed and dizzy all day. “Hmm okay, after lunch we will do a Malaria test.”
“Okay, I also haven’t drinken much water.”
“Oh you must drink water it’s so important!”
“Yeah.”
A little later after watching her k-drama for a few moments she spoke again.
“I want a white husband. Do you know any white men? Do you have a white husband?”
“No, I don’t–it’s hard to find a good guy.”
“But there are no good Zambian guys there have to be good white men.”
“I don’t know I haven’t been very lucky.”
“How old are you?”
“21”
“Oh you are so young, you are a baby! I am 29 and still no husband, anyways lets go eat they’ve brought the food.”
Everyday at the hospital they eat Ugali with some variations of protein but always vegetarian because its an SDA hospital. At lunch we continued our conversation in front of a male nurse and Mr. Nkomo. My favorite.
“I want a white man because they are gentler, black men are not gentle or good at all.” -Becky
“No, no, black men are far better,” Peter the nurse. “They are gentle.”
“No they are not, Claire you want a white man, me too.”
“No Claire you want a black man he is far better, do you want a black man?”
“Err?”
Mr. Nkomo and Peter had a quick whispered conversation in Nchala, “A black man will take care of you like you don’t believe. Trust us!”
“I’m not really looking at the moment.”
“Ah but why? Do you not like Black men?”
“Ummm”
Becky–”No because they are not gentle, trust me.”
It was actually a pretty funny lunch conversation and it made me love Becky how blunt and forward she was.
The afore mentioned malaria test came back negative…good and I laid down for a second before going to see the finishing touches on the hernia replacement. “Are you okay Claire?” Dr. Ang asked as he took off the gear.”
“Yes, I think I’m just dehydrated.”
“Well have you drinken anything today? Or eaten fruits for your immune system.”
“Well no.”
“And yesterday?”
“Umm not really.”
“Claire it is very important. Where is your water?”
So I went and got my water, drank it and what do you know felt better just in time to assist with the next operation which was a relocation. The guy had pulled the elbow out of the socket a week ago and was just now coming in. So obviously as soon as he fell asleep Dr. Ang and I started tugging. When that wasn’t enough two other nurses joined in on either side. Then I got shoved out of the way and they got a piece of cloth involved. When that didn’t work they kept pulling. Picture this for a second. A short 80 year old Phillipino doctor and two big Zambian men yanking at this joint. It was pretty funny. What finally worked is the guys were on either side of the joint pulling and Dr. Ang was jumping and putting all his weight onto the elbow. So did I really assist? No. But I didn’t get dizzy.
The last case of the day was with Dr. Peduche and was a C-Section. Great I’ve heard these are really bloody so my odds of staying standing are slim but I’d drank water and was ready to give it a go. And you know what I watched it and it was fine. And I could describe it in detail but I don’t think you need to know unless you are really curious and people might stop reading the blog if I describe surgical procedures. What I can say is Dr. Peduche is scary efficient and neat. She’s how I imagine my mom is as a surgeon.
That’s about it for monday. I found produce at the produce market which is much better than yesterday when I went looking for Avocados and all there were were tomatoes that had seen better days. She kept trying to sell them to me and kudos for the effort but they weren’t what I was looking for. Monday though there were lots of options and I got my Avocado fix. I watched the sunset which was pretty darn spectacular and went in to cook dinner.
They started a new load shedding schedule which cuts the power from 3-11 which is a fantastic time to have no power, so I now cook by candlelight on a gas stove. I’m starting to get really sick of wingspan but thankfully I have a piece of Russian Literature to keep me company for the next 5-10 business years. A good day although I was a little nervous about going back to the theater hopefully I won’t go back for a little while. (Okay you know that’s just foreshadowing cause I’m writing about monday on thursday.)
Song of the Post: Like a surgeon by Weird Al Yankovic
Quote of the Post: Dr Ang-”I don’t really know what this hole is but it’s not supposed to be there, here feel it.”
Comments