Sunday, July 22, 2012
How do I even begin to explain today’s travels… First, Clare
and I wanted to wake up and cook Sister Catie and Stephanie breakfast before 8
AM Mass. We didn’t have many materials,
ingredients, or power, so we decided on a makeshift banana French toast. After Clare spilled cocoa all over herself in
the dark and I burnt myself lighting the stove with a match, somehow we came
away with a feast by 7 AM and called everyone to the table. The meal was not half bad and they highly
enjoyed it!
Clare and I walked to church just across the street and
watched as all the students came in.
Luckily, we picked to sit on the right side (girls) and the pew we were
sitting in was the last to be filled.
Everyone was afraid despite our waving!
There was barely any speaking in the service except for the
readings. The children sang and played
acoustic guitar the entire time and it literally sounded like a choir. They were all rehearsed and the music and
melody of every song was incredible. The
handcrafted alter, grass roof chapel, and painted rainbow colors around the
church was one of the most beautiful sights.
At the end of Mass, the deputy principal of the school had Clare and I
stand up and introduced us as a “nurse and a sports teacher” and said that no
one could go to the clinic unless they were seriously ill and everyone
laughed. It was an honor to be
mentioned.
After church, Clare and I headed back to pack up our
things. Sister Catie was already almost
crying and saying she didn’t want us to leave.
She is seriously a riot. After we
were done packing, there was a patient waiting for her injection, so I walked
to the clinic and took care of that and also cleaned an open sore on her
finger. Clare and I were sitting outside
the clinic just chatting and laughing as Sister Catie took our cameras and took
photos of every single flower and spoke about every single blade of grass, when
we saw Sister Veronica and Sister Leonie drive up in their car. That meant it was time to go, and we were so
sad to leave. Sister Catie and Sister
Stephanie packed the car with food and said that if anything went wrong for the
rest of our trip to call and she will come get us. It was so sad to leave and see her upset, and
her 4-foot tall body running after the car.
We stopped at Panatina Ridge to switch cars where we met
more and more sisters and visitors. We
had a quick lunch, and then started off on our journey to Visale, about an hour
away. On the way, we saw Guadalcanal war
memorials as we drove along the coastline of the island. I’ve never driven on such a beautiful road
and I was in awe as we came out of the city into the more rural villages with
no power or electricity. It is such a
sight to see the rich land and ocean juxtaposed with these poor families of 10,
20 people and their children without any clothes. Sister Veronica comes from Visale and she
explained to us that the road we were driving on had mostly Catholic
villages. They all first learn to speak
the mother tongue, then pidgin a form of broken English, and then English if
they get to a good school. It really
sets the family dynamic, because if one does not go beyond the mother tongue,
you can only communicate with those in your surrounding area. There are 15 mother tongues in Guadalcanal
alone.
After driving through rivers, rickety bridges, and receiving
many laughs from people looking at white people as we passed, we reached Sister
Veronica’s school where she teaches home-ec and health as well as her
house. She is set back from the school
in a group of homes all built for the staff of the school. Her house is owned by the Dominican Sisters,
so whoever will come here next in their placement will stay in this house. Clare and I are sharing one room of the
2-room home, and it is the cutest place ever.
Decorated with beautiful Solomon Island drapes, a purple floor, and a
homemade altar, you can barely notice that there is no power ever! We dropped our things inside and Sister
Veronica took pineapple, rice, watermelon, and tea in the car and said we were
going out to the beach. I was so excited! We drove down a small road and Sister
Veronica pointed out each one of her family’s huts and one of their
villages. It seemed that she was related
to every single person on the road. We
stopped at her sister’s house and met their entire family. The kids were hysterically laughing when they
saw us because Sister Vero told them we came especially to see them. Some of them clothed and some unclothed, they
laughed and laughed and were embarrassed to introduce themselves. Clare and I were enjoying this so much! Although it looked like they barely had a
sturdy house, the children and parents came out holding coconuts for each of
us. We thanked them so much and headed
off to the beach.
We parked at Sister Vero’s cousin’s hut that was actually on
the beach, and walked down to the water with our coconuts in hand. I’ve ever seen such a pristine and untouched
scene. I’ve also never had a swim in
water where 2 people were spear fishing about 50 feet away from me. The water was like a bath, and I just floated
and enjoyed the sun. After our swim,
Sister Vero told us that her nieces and nephews had something for us. We walked near their house, and they set up a
whole table for Clare and me, with a tablecloth and flowers! They cut up the fruit and watched us sit
down. I was in shock. I certainly to not need to be treated like a
princess and I felt so horrible about how selfish we can be sometimes in
America. These kids were in joy just by
giving someone a gift. Not to mention,
they made me close my eyes and tied a beautiful flower necklace around my neck
and one on Clare’s. They were the cutest
kids ever and I wish that they will be safe and healthy in their future. So far, this was one of the best days and I
could not believe by just visiting and doing work I enjoy, I was practically getting
showered by gifts.
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| Our beautiful picnic! |
After our swim, we drove to Sister Vero’s family village
about 5 minutes down the road. They
literally had about 7 wooden and grass huts and a bamboo archway with flowers
as you enter. It was so beautiful that
this extended family lived together so close, without any power, and looked so
peaceful and calm. There are no worries
in the Solomon’s. Sister Vero set up
camp and opened yet more Tupperware containers of food and served everyone a dinner
of sweet potato, chicken, and more fruit.
She left a ton of food for her family and the parish priest who lives in
their village, and I could see the joy on her face as well as theirs. We headed back to the school and house when
Sister Vero’s sister flagged the car down.
They wanted to give us more! One
by one, the uncle and children carried out pineapple and cucumbers “for the
American students.” The pineapple was
just picked from their garden! I felt so
terrible taking the food, but they are so happy to give. Clare and I just couldn’t believe their
culture. So carefree, easy, and
simple. Sister Vero’s laugh is
contagious and we spoke pidgin saying “see you later” and “good night” out the
window to all the people passing. Some
stopped us saying they wanted to shake our hands.
When we got back to the house, we toured the school and the
clinic where I’ll be going tomorrow. We
each had a freezing cold shower outside, which felt amazing, and said an
evening prayer. Sister Vero, Clare, and
I sat by her table and told stories for so long. We were all hysterically laughing as we
recounted stories of crazy Sister Catie.
She was one of the first sisters in the Solomon’s, refuses to tell
anyone her age, and even though they say you don’t have to wear a veil anymore,
she insists. She also had a parrot
before Pacifica called March, and a dog ate it.
The way Sister Catie told Clare and I we were both almost in tears, but
Sister Veronica told us that Catie put so much attention on the bird everyone
was neglected. When the bird died, Catie
did not eat or do anything for 3 days.
The Sisters had to buy her Pacifica so she would come out of her
slump. We were laughing so hard. We reminisced on the time Clare and I taught
her yoga and her tiny munchkin self, trying to throw herself on the floor eager
to learn. And also how she thought we
were doing “yogurt.” Finally Sister
Veronica told us that she wanted to be a nurse at one point and took her
entrance exam with one other boy. She
passed with flying colors, and the boy failed.
But, just as politics are in the US, the boy’s family who were
parliament of Western Province, paid off the nursing school so Vero would not
get in. They accused her of
cheating. I could not believe this
injustice. Sister Vero is so happy
teaching health, but to think that her dreams were stolen away unfairly is
sickening.
Heading to bed early at 9 PM for another eventful day. I have no doubts I am going to sleep well on
the floor in this beautiful house.
Monday, July 23, 2012
After my first full day in Visale, a village without running
water and power, I am truly amazed by the community. We woke up around 5:45 and got ready for
mass. We walked to the church and
listened to the choir sing in perfect harmony the entire time. The deacon welcomed us once again and I felt
honored. After breakfast, I changed into
my scrubs and felt a little nervous for my first day at the clinic. First, Sister Vero took Clare and I to the
staff office of the school and we were introduced to everyone. The teachers’ staff room looked like a few
desks pushed together with stacks of books piled on top. They looked so eager to teach despite this
cramped office and I wished that one day the school building could be
improved. All the teachers plus Clare
and I then piled in a room for the “pre-assembly.” This was the first day of school starting the
third term. However, school was supposed
to start last week but because of the Pacific Arts Festival, not enough
students came. This is how things work
here. And also, the principal didn’t
even turn up yet. I felt sorry for
Sister Vero who is one of the nicest an genuine people I’ve ever met trying to
make a difference, with so few resources.
All the students started laughing and whispering when Clare and I walked
in. This seems to be the typical
reaction! I just smiled and waved and
felt so many eyes staring and me and turning away as I looked. It was hysterical. The head staff teacher introduced us and we
spoke about ourselves. Most of the
children can understand some English, but mostly speak pidgin. After the students received their lecture
about no beetlenut, alcohol, or smoking, everyone was seated and 3 girls walked
in holding leis for us! It was the
cutest thing ever as they placed fresh white lilies and a braided palm lei
around my neck. I do not deserve this
kind of welcome, but it is all part of their culture!
I headed off to the clinic where I met Nurse Michaela taking
her time with the line of patients waiting outside. I first worked in the lab,
examining slides of blood to test for malaria.
Keep in mind that this lab is a tiny room with one table and one
microscope. I learned about the types of
parasites in the Solomon’s, mainly Pf and Pv.
Pf is more dangerous and more common.
It affects the liver where the parasite can hatch its eggs. There are three stages, and as they progress
the parasite becomes darker and rounder under the microscope. A positive slide looks like a crescent moon
with the opening connected by tiny dots.
A tiny blood sample stained after 10 minutes is enough to f=diagnose. There are many patients that want to be
tested, but surprisingly, not many have it.
February was the month where most had malaria, with 76 diagnosed and
about 100+ coming in for checks. In the
month of June there were 90 people coming in for checks and only about 17
positive cases. This disease is so
dangerous, and proper prevention is key.
Most families do not have access to bug repellent or mosquito nets, and
their children suffer as a side effect.
It was truly heartbreaking to see this disease take control of these
people’s bodies and their minds.
After learning about the lab, I helped the nurse record all
the patients down including their name, age, sex, village, new/returning,
history, and treatment. In total, we saw about 22 patients for the day. Mothers and children kept lining up outside
because Monday is a “free day” meaning anyone can come and people walk from
very far away. I saw patients with abscesses,
infections, diabetic sores, flu-symptoms, forehead gashes, and simple
cuts. I took blood pressures and helped
with dressings. Probably the most
heart-breaking thing I saw were young mothers coming in with their babies, no
older than 2 months old, with a terrible cough and chest infection. These babies were still breastfeeding and
were already given doses of antibiotics, yet still wheezed and could barely
make a sound without coughing. It is
sickening that these children have no control over the family or location they
are born into. The nurse told me that
oftentimes the mothers neglect the children and forget to finish the dose of
antibiotics. It was amazing to see how freely the perscriptions are
dispensed. No signatures, only a $5.00
payment. The only money patients pay for
healthcare in the Solomon’s is if they see a private doctor, get an injection
($5.00-less than $1.00 US), get a malaria test, or get a prescription. Healthcare is just not emphasized. The kids waiting to be seen were staring at
me as well as their mothers. They
couldn’t believe I was there and one grandma even ran away from me scared
because she couldn’t speak English.
Two cases were most memorable for me today. After I came to the clinic around 8:30 AM,
the nurse just left saying she had to take a shower. Schedules do not exist here. So apparently I was in charge, and I was
talking to a lady maybe 20-30 years old who was waiting for her malaria
test. She kept asking me why I was here
and she was so interested in everything about me. I just feel so bad, not feeling sorry for
them, but just that they are so genuine and could have life so much
easier. She asked me my name a couple of
times throughout our conversation, and then asked how to spell it. When she was leaving (no malaria, thank
goodness) I saw she wrote on her hand, C-a-y-l-a. I don’t know what she wrote it for, but I was touched.
 |
| St. Martin de Porres Clinic in Visale |
The other case was an “admittance,” the broadest sense of
the term, to the clinic overnight. For an admission here, basically the patient
just lays in one of the 2 rooms with a bed and sits there all night, even when
there is no nurse on staff. This woman
must have been over 70. Another
interesting fact is that no one knows his or her actual age here. It is 20+, 30+, and so on. This particular woman had a severe case of
pneumonia and needed intravenous fluid and antibiotic. Whenever I asked a question, the nurse agreed
with me thinking I was trying to diagnose.
Once I asked her if the patient could have bronchitis and she actually
gave that as the final diagnosis. I just
asked! Recording everything factually
and worrying about being correct is just not a priority. There is no such thing as a lawsuit. This lady needed an IV, so I helped the nurse
insert it into the vein and I injected the fluid and antibiotic. I am so thankful I brought gloves with me for
the blood, because the nurse did not even wear any. The lady was then just told to sit in the
room with her family until her next dose at 10 PM.
Tomorrow brings antenatal care, or prenatal care, at the
clinic. The nurse said only pregnant
women come to be examined, but I certainly have learned that things do not go
according to a schedule. I think I am
supposed to be there around “8:00 AM” which means more like 9. I am learning so much each day here, and
slowly realizing that their system is no system. Diagnoses are made by at a glance and
emergencies are driven to hospital whenever the next vehicle comes to town, but
the people and nurses are happy just the same.
People thank me whenever I walk by, but I feel like I am not doing
enough to help. I am just taking it day
by day thankful for this experience.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
How do I even begin to explain today? It started off like usual, heading to church
early for 6 and then having a quick breakfast.
I wasn’t feeling too hot the end of yesterday and this morning, so I
hoped I would be fine for the time I was in the clinic. Clare and Sister Vero set off to town to buy
supplies for the library, and I set off for the clinic. I started walked down
the path and when I passed students would yell out their windows, ”Good morning,
Cayla!” I felt like a regular! When I got to the clinic there were many
patients lined up already, some for antenatal and some outpatient. I knew that having an antenatal day only was
not possible. I jumped right taking
blood pressures to help the two other nurses today who were taking their
time. Once again, I was surprised how
steadily the nurses worked and how they diagnosed at a glance.
Randomly, it was time for antenatal, so we walked around the
corner to one of the four rooms that had two rickety beds, one for delivery and
one for exam. With the dust and
scattered medical papers everywhere around the room, I could hardly believe
that this could be a room for pregnant mothers.
The exams were short and sweet, the mothers would come and be weighed
and they would tell the nurse about all their other children and history. Keep in mind that the only comorbidities they
check for are hypertension and diabetes.
I noticed that some of the women had higher gravidity than parity,
meaning they carried a child and lost it before birth. After the talk, their urine was tested for
glucose and protein. High glucose would
indicate diabetes and high protein would indicate an infection. One of the mothers had high protein, but
nothing was done besides record it. Most
of the mothers were bringing in battered “baby books” or medical history charts
with dirt all over them. The nurse would
constantly tell me that I am privileged and lucky to have technology in the
US. There are no such things as prenatal
vitamins, diet, or ultrasounds in the clinic.
An ultrasound is only administered at a hospital if it is an emergency
and it is very expensive. They kept
telling me to come back when I had trained in the US. I was really starting to feel hopeless at
this point.
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| Antenatal Exam Room |
During the antenatal exams, instead of a heart rate monitor,
the nurse would stick an old-fashioned horn object on the mother’s stomach and
listen for the fetal heart rate. They
violently pushed to see if the baby was breech.
I was observing but also worrying.
My main job was to write down baby names for boys and girls for the
mother. They usually don’t think of
names until they are born. Don’t worry
Coll, all the mothers liked your name for a boy, so I’m sure there will be
plenty of Solomonese alter egos in your future
J. One of the mothers was happily lying on the
table and told me that her husband left her for a woman in the Western Province
and she didn’t know who the father was of her baby. I was seriously heartbroken and couldn’t
believe how nonchalant she was. I tried
to smile and go along with everything, not letting anyone see how sorry I felt
that these poor women were denied basic technology to ensure a safe
delivery. The nurse and mothers told me
that in the Solomon’s I probably would have already had 4 or 5 children by now. Their fertility rate is more than 3%. They couldn’t believe when I said that women
wait to have children until after school and a job in America. There have been girls in the Solomon’s that
give birth at a mere 12 or 13 years old.
When the mothers were finished, we went back to outpatient
care and I gave some fluid to a man through an IV who came in from a 2-hour
boat ride from the weather coast of Guadalcanal to get to Central
Hospital. He did not look too well, but
I moved onto the patient we admitted yesterday for her dose of penicillin, but
her IV created a boil in her arm, so we had to remove it and start again. The poor woman sat in the chair as the two
nurses tried and tried again to get a vein, but each time they were too deep in
the tissue. Finally, they looked at me
and handed me the IV. I had my eye on a
certain vein the entire time and was happy to give it a go. I sat down and slowly pushed in the needle
just under the skin, not too deep, and gently pushed. And what do you know, blood started coming
out the other end, I got it! The nurses
were laughing at the irony and congratulating me and the lady looked just as
pleased.
After a break, I headed back to the clinic to wait for the
nurses to open up again and practiced my Pidgin with the people around. As I was sitting outside, I noticed that the
man who was waiting for his ride to Central Hospital was still lying on the
ground looking terrible. When the nurses
came back, his wife who was chewing beetlenut, finally stood up and decided to
take a bus to the hospital. I asked if
there was anything we could do and the nurses just shook their heads. They said because of no mobiles, no service,
and no cars, many patients die waiting to go to the hospital. Even if they had a car, no one knew how to
drive. They said communication is awful
and transportation is worse. The ride
was radioed from his original clinic, but there was no way to check where it
was. The man tried to stand up, but when
he did, he began vomiting blood. The nurse
went over to check on him, and noticed the edema in his feet was getting worse,
and so was the jaundice in his fingernails and eyes. To me, this screamed liver failure. He was also known to be a drinker, so
cirrhosis was also possible. The nurse
said there is no treatment for cirrhosis and he would probably have to wait it
out. Excuse me?! I was witnessing a man slowly deteriorating
in front of my eyes, in front of his children, and the nurses were laughing
about how ridiculous the transportation is and sat back down. They finally turned on the radio which
“didn’t work before” and got a signal.
It sounded like there was some communication but I couldn’t tell. Finally I had it. I was so angry I told them to write down a
doctor’s number who could speak English at Central Hospital and I would walk
down the road until I reached service.
They said it was only a half an hour walk. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Someone easily could have done this 5 hours
ago. I ran to Sister Vero who drove me
to a cell signal and she tried calling the number. I felt horrible to involve her in this but honestly;
I had it with the lackadaisical approach to medicine. Not so cute anymore. Oh and guess what? The number was not in service. I was holding back tears and felt defeated. I was frustrated with the clinic and with
myself. I know this is the system and
they realize they have few resources, but lighting a spark for them to utilize
what they have is nearly impossible.
Clare said that some of the boys wanted to take us on a hike
up the surrounding mountain, and I was in need of exercise, so I happily agreed
to go. I changed out of my scrubs and
headed out to the start with Jerry, Godrick, Cecilia, and RisaLynn. I vaguely remembered the Mt. Sorrow hike in
Cape Trib and laughed. This wouldn’t be
that hard; after all, the kids weren’t even wearing shoes. About 10 minutes into the hike, I was
sweating profusely. I could hardly
breathe in the humid air, and the hike turned into a steep climb. I could barely grip anything and started to
panic as these children hopped along. We
reached the top after maybe 20 minutes and I admired the view. I could see the island of Savo in the
distance and I was surrounded by paradise.
Jerry interrupted me and said, “Okay, let’s keep going.” WHAT!
I seriously couldn’t chicken out and let the Solomon Islanders think I
wasn’t tough but when I looked up, I realized it was the huge cliff I had been
staring at since I got here. I love a
challenge and everyone knows that about me, but seriously, this had to be
impossible. Cecilia called it quits but I
sucked it up and bit my tongue, and started the climb by hanging onto to blades
of grass while my feet slipped off the slope because of the mossy rocks and
mud. To make things worse, a rock fell
from above which made me look down and I seriously have never felt that
scared. This feeling of panic mixed with
struggle and embarrassment continued for another 40 minutes of pain until my
mud covered body reached the top. I
guess no one warned me? I was
exhausted. The view was the most amazing
scene I had ever seen. I felt the climb was worth it. But I realized, now I had to go down. Clare was trying to perk me up but I started
to worry about the sun going down and also the fact that I could hear wild pigs
and we were walking through grass taller than me.
 |
| Finally at the summit! |
Apparently there was an easier way down (I made sure they
knew I could not go down the way we came), I convinced myself to get moving
even though I was shaking. What was
wrong with me? I finally just decided
that sliding down would be the best for me and finally I was laughing
again. How could I not laugh when I was
enduring the most physical activity probably ever in my life, and RisaLynn
still had time to make me a crown out of leaves while she was waiting for me to
recover. I took a moment to picture
where I was, what I was doing, and who I was with. Clare and I were in the middle of a jungle
mountain in Guadalcanal, with 4 jungle children as tour guides. Jerry kept apologizing to me the whole time
and I was just laughing. He made me wait
while he kicked down trees to clear a path.
I must have asked him 30 times if we were going the right way. A little friend Dominic joined us earlier on
the hike, and he was jumping up and down like a monkey. They hysterically laughed as I slid down
whenever we reached a slope and I called it my “system.” Everyone was working as a team, especially
when I slipped off the slope and Clare grabbed my wrists to hold me while the
rest had the pleasure of hoisting me up.
The sun was setting, and the boys kept saying, “soon, soon.” Finally, I saw a grass hut and ran toward
it. They belonged to families and we
just casually walked through their yards waving while their unclothed children
ran around. Jerry pointed to a blue
house and said, “Look, that’s where you live!” and I took off. I thought I was in Sister Vero’s yard lying
down but it was one of the teachers from the school. I asked her where I lived
and she pointed right next door while laughing.
Finally, I saw Sister Vero and she saw me basically black with mud donning
a leaf crown and starting laughing so hard.
Apparently the whole village and the students could see us at the top of
the mountain and were cheering for us the whole time. Good thing I made it! The boys looked fine in their bare feet, just
another day in Visale. I seriously
couldn’t believe it.
After my success, the rest of the day brought good
news. The patient at the clinic was
transported to the hospital FINALLY and Sister Vero prepared a meal of fish,
pineapple, papaya and cabbage. I
survived another day, but America’s reputation might be a little damaged from
my hike performance.
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| Top of Mt. Chiromagati with Savo, an Active Volcano Island in the background |
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
10:30 PM
So I was about to start my blog for the day and took out my
journal to write something down when all of a sudden everything in the room was
shaking. I looked up at Clare sitting on
her bed and she said, “Um, earthquake?”
I threw my book and ran out of my room and everything was vibrating and
almost toppling off the counters. When I
reached the outside door (probably not a good idea) Sister Veronica was coming
up the stairs after just going out for her shower and was like, “I think we
just had an earthquake.” We all started
laughing when it was over and couldn’t even believe it. They don’t happen quite often here, but when
they do, people panic because they think it is a tsunami. Sister Veronica said that she should always
bring an extra pair of pants to the shower in case something bad happens and
she has to run. She is hysterical.
This day has been filled with excitement, beginning to
end. I couldn’t believe it was my last
day, just as I was getting so comfortable in the community and at the
clinic. But I was also kind of
embarrassed to show my face because I’m sure Jerry and Dominic told all the
kids about my mountain climbing experience.
I first went to the library Clare was constructing for the
students. We alphabetized books and she
had plans to label all the fiction books in order and to place mats and
curtains in the room. It was a big
project, but all the kids were looking in through the windows so excited
because the donated books from Australia were just collecting dust before.
I walked to the clinic and waited outside for the nurse to
arrive and sat with this one little baby, Frederick, who had a moderate ARI, or
respiratory infection. He has been
coming with his mother for a “repeat nila” or repeat needle for 3 days
now. Frederick is the first baby I have
met that doesn’t cry or run away from me.
In fact, it is quite the opposite.
Whenever he starts crying his mom brings him over to just stare at me
and he opens his eyes so wide. He is
seriously fascinated with my bizarre appearance. It works just up until he gets his shot and
then the tears start flowing.
In the Solomon Islands, there is no such thing as “first
come first serve.” Who every is getting
a repeat nila goes first so the nurse
can get it over with. It doesn’t matter
if there is a semi-emergency or someone has already been waiting for an
hour. And all the people are completely
fine and patient waiting. We did the
usual patients and blood pressures and I found out that everyone already knew I
completed the mountain hike! Then the
action picked up. Sitting waiting
outside for all the repeat nilas to
go first was a mother and a little boy, 5 years old, who stepped right on a
metal fish hook. Fishhooks are a little
different in the Solomon’s because the fish are large and strong. The part that was in his foot was probably 4
cm long and he wasn’t even crying. His
mother seemed pretty amused as well. But
as soon as the lidocaine was injected in 3 spots around the hook to numb the
area, he was screaming. I felt so
horrible and tried to calm him down, but I ended up having to hold him in
place. The nurse cut right into the
bottom of the foot with a razor and I do not think the lidocaine was kicking in
yet. Finally after a couple slices, she
got the hook out, cleaned it, and gave it to the mother. The wound was cleaned and the little boy was
sent hopping along on his way. No
worries about tetanus or infection either.
Just after I thought I had seen my action for the day, I saw
maybe 10 people walking very fast to the clinic from the road. They looked like they were on a mission but
when they arrived they sat on the bench and waited outside. When I glanced the little boy a woman was
carrying on her back and saw the blood, I figured that they probably should
just wait outside. I took them in and
when the nurse saw the little boy’s head she just said, “Oh, wow that’s really
deep,” in pidgin. Not so
comforting. I glanced at the 11-year-old
little boy, Ezekiel, and saw his eyes were rolling back in his head. I got him some water and told everyone to
stop crowding around him. It is custom
for a whole family or village to accompany someone to a clinic if they are
seriously injured. The nurse didn’t
exactly see the problem with eight of his family members sticking their head
into the 2-foot wide doorway, but after sitting the boy down and seeing his
head closer, they needed to leave. Just
as I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the grandma showed up in a taxi, opened
the door and started screaming at the mother in pidgin for being careless. The boy was home from school with Rubella,
and was climbing a tree when he fell and hit his head and back on a stick. I convinced the nurse to get the family out
beside the mother and shut the door.
Finally we could concentrate and began to clean the deep gash out and
numb the scalp. I was in charge of
cutting his hair and he started to scream.
I told him to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth and
he actually concentrated on this and toughed it out the whole time. After cleaning, the nurse said it looked good
but I could still see dirt. After a
thorough cleaning, we began stitches.
The nurse pulled it through while I cut and after 6, we were
finished. They had taken a bus to a
clinic and his family smothered the boy for another hour until the next bus
came.
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| Available meds in the clinic |
There were two other interesting patients today. One 24-year-old came in with severe abdomen
pain she could barely speak or walk. The
nurse kind of just stared at her and thought maybe she should take amoxicillin.
I’m no expert but I don’t think amoxicillin would work. It has happened to this woman before but she
only treated it with “local remedy” which is herbal medicine. The nurse decided
to take her in for an exam (first one I’ve seen) and felt her stomach. She felt something “hard” on one side. I think after my IV performance yesterday the
nurse was looking to me a little too much when she asked me, “What do you
think?” Well, I know she needs to go to
a hospital, but that is not possible until Friday on referral day. I said she needed an ultrasound to see for
possible gallstones. For now she is
coming back on Friday, but I secretly told her if possible to go to the
hospital earlier and get checked. The
nurse also turned to me for another patient who was having trouble seeing. Apparently she had clear vision but sometimes
her head hurts and her vision goes blurry.
This happened twice before and was happening again now. The nurse turned to me, and the only thing I
could say was that she needed to go to an eye specialist. There is one in
Honiara at Central Hospital so they agreed to go. I was worried because it was not a simple
“glasses” case. I was suspecting a
possible optic nerve problem. I tried
explaining she needed a brain scan or MRI without scaring them but no one
understood. I took her medical chart
that she brings to the hospital and wrote a note to the doctor about the MRI. I seriously hope this family goes and takes
that advice.
 |
| Ceremony |
After entertaining some of the patients with my remedies for
ear problems, getting water out with baking soda and vinegar, I was told to
report back to the school for a little gathering that the students were having
for Clare and me. It was about 1 PM, and
I worked in the library until they were ready.
I could not even believe the room when I walked in. There was Sister Vero, all the teachers, the
principal, our mountain tour guides (Jerry!), and all the kids around us we
have grown close with. There was fresh
fruit and sandwiches that Sister Vero made for everyone and I felt so
overwhelmed. I could not believe they
were treating me this well. There was a
table in the middle for us so we sat down while each person stood up and
spoke. The words of thanks they
expressed were so sincere and they hoped for more students from PC to travel to
Visale. One of the teachers cried and I
almost did as well. Finally, they
presented us with a shell necklace, as it is part of their culture to give
gifts to those who travel far. I
couldn’t believe this moment and how welcoming everyone was. When I got a chance to speak, I spoke
seriously first and then apologized to Jerry for my mountain climbing trauma
and everyone erupted in laughter. While
we were eating, everyone joked about how I was panicking on the mountain and
how poor Jerry got an earful of my complaints.
I filled Jerry’s plate with apology sandwiches over and over again and
everyone was hysterical.
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| Visale Sunset |
After this special ceremony, Clare and I worked long and hard
to finish labeling the books in the library.
After a few hours, Sister Vero took us for a walk on the beach for
sunset. We enjoyed our last night
together and finished up in the library with the help of Cinderella, one of the
teachers. Clare and I were elated when
we were done. Finally these children
have a place to read and study and spend their time constructively if they
prefer not to go home right after school.
Clare’s project will live on long in the history of Sacred Heart School,
and I think most of the kids will think reading is “cool” now that Clare set up
the library!
Sister Vero just turned on the radio and the earthquake was
a 6.6. That is probably not the best
news because I have to be up at 5 AM and on a boat to Auki tomorrow morning. I’m on Solomon time for now.
