Lucky

I am beginning to write more often as I realize that I will be gone in a short 12 days. It is so hard for me to believe that I have been here in Arusha for over a month.

I have met some very influential friends on this trip. The people I have lived with during my time here are all unique. We all share our own individual passions, goals, and opinions. It’s the differences between us, though, has enabled me to view certain aspects of life on a different level. Last night Ben pulled up a video of a famous Australian comedian, Tim Minchin. In this clip Tim talks about “9 life lessons”. As I sat on the couch last night, frozen in silence in attempt to hear the video through dull phone speakers, I was moved by what Tim was saying. I agree with all 9. But, the most moving lesson in my opinion was number 3; “It’s all luck, you are all lucky to be here.”

Since I have been here in Arusha I have seen evidence of this first hand. In America it would be hard for me to believe that I am luckier than the bum I pass each morning on my bike ride to school. But, after seeing a slew of unfortunate people for the past month, I can’t help but to feel lucky for the things I looked past before. I am lucky to be healthy. I am lucky to have two parents who love me dearly. I am lucky to have shoes.
Do you believe in luck? Or, do you believe you simply worked harder than the 19 year-old that lost his battle to AIDs this morning. 

I don’t mean to change your opinion, or make you feel sympathy. I'm not worried about why you feel you are living the life you live. Instead, I ask that you make an effort to become more aware of how lucky you are.
Be thankful. 

For the big, the small, and even what you don’t think about… like the musical beat of your heart in your chest.

XO miss you all

I hope you all know, I am thankful for you. The most sincere card on this side of Africa.

Credit: pediatric ward.

Healthy kids and sick kids

Good Morning!

I have a cup of coffee at my side and my light blue scrubs on. I am preparing for another day at Mt. Meru Regional Hospital. This week Heather, Ben and I are in pediatrics. But before I go on to explain the wide arrange of complications we have witnessed in kids 6 weeks to 8 years of age, I want to catch you up on my weekend.

As I stated in my previous post, most of the volunteers have left. Because our house is a lot quieter, so was this past weekend. However, Heather and I did take an adventure Saturday night.

During our Eid encounter with our neighbors I mentioned how much I loved the henna tattoos drawn on their 4 and 6 year old children. They were beautiful. Immediately after seeing our faces in awe they offered to take Heather and I for henna one night after he arrived home from work. Heather and I knew we were working in causality Friday night, so we told him we’d love to go Saturday night! He readily assured us he’d make an appointment with a family friend.

After a fun Friday night in causality on full of baby deliveries, a few facial lacerations, a split toe, and a psychotic patient we were excited for a relaxing night of henna. All Saturday morning we worked on various tasks at FiFi’s, which is a popular tourist coffee shop. After one cup of coffee too many, we walked home and completed a roof workout. I was feeling particularly lazy and decided to only kick the soccer ball around on the roof. A powerful kick resulted in the ball flying off the roof and into the street. I ran as fast as possible down eight flights of stairs to retrieve the ball. Upon bringing the ball back into the gated complex, six neighborhood kids surrounded me. I willingly kicked the ball to the kids and we began playing a little keep away.

Apart from the times we got the ball stuck under cars and in gutters, I had a great time playing with the little guys.

A honk at the gate interrupted our game and I was pleased to see it was our neighbor! After his two young girls ran to him screaming “papa!” with joy, he turned to me and told me he was ready to take us into town. I ran upstairs with the soccer ball to grab Heather. We piled in his company truck with his wife, and three children. First stop was to drop mom off with a friend, and papa went to purchase henna ink, all the while Heather and I were left in the car alone with the two kiddos. The time was 7p, which is dusk in Arusha… this is also the time that the town becomes very skeptical. As we sat in the truck with the windows down we were grabbed one another’s hand. We gave each other a look of shear fear. We had never been outside of the apartment alone at night. As we sat frightened, the girls were jumping around us telling us their favorite shows, and favorite foods.

“Spongebob is a girl when he wants, and a boy when he wants.”

As I tried to interact with the children I stuffed my debit card, 12$, and phone in my bra. That way I could easily hand over my bag in the event of a bad situation.

I must’ve nearly broke my neck I turned around so many times to peer out of the back window, hoping to see our neighbors face. A century later (more like 5 minutes) we caught sight of him, and we were instantly put at ease. He jumped in the car, and we drove to a new location not far from the parking lot we were just in. It was now pitch black outside. Our neighbor mentioned that he was going to go shopping at a near by grocery store while we got our henna. We began to bombard him with questions: “when will you be back?” “Is it safe?” “Where exactly will you be?” He assured us it wouldn’t take him long, and that the woman doing our henna was a family friend that he and his family had known very well. We stiffly walked into the building and up to the 5^th floor. We entered an apartment and were greeted by a family from India. I immediately picked up on this once I noticed the Bindi and Sorry worn the mother of the household.

The younger daughter greeting us and then preceded to get us chairs to sit on while she did our tattoos (the only furniture in the house were four plastic chairs, surely meant for outdoor use). The artwork she gently, and meticulously drew on my arm was breath taking. Each design draw was different but the designs together spread down my arm with great harmony.

The paint was thick. Because of the language barrier, once she completed the tattoo Heather and I were unsure how to make sure we treated the henna with the proper aftercare. We were told different things by three others and finally decided to use our American instincts and Google search.  Papa arrived back just in time for us to be on our way (the tattoos only took 90 minutes!). We left the home, thanked our artist, picked up mom and traveled back to our apartments as a group. I felt so welcome in their family. Although there was a small language barrier, and apart from different skin color I felt like we were family.

Heather and I have been enjoying our Henna… taking artsy photos of our arms where ever we go.

As for Mt. Meru, we have had an AMAZING week in pediatrics. Being in a foreign country, we are used to the language barriers. Most of the time the language barrier hinders our learning and our ability to understand diseases, but this week we have been blessed. We have been completing rounds in peds with a doctor and three medical students from Oregon Health and Science University, two English speaking doctors from Mount Meru, and many English speaking medical students. Because of the large number of English speaking doctors and students we are able to better understand conditions and talk through the pathophysiology of the diseases seen in the ward.

The diseases seen at Mount Meru are diseases not seen commonly in the western part of the world, as one might assume.

Some examples of the diseases we have seen this week in peds are: Viral Meningitis, Patent Ductus Arteriosus, extrapulmonary tuberculosis (TB), rheumatic heart disease, interception of the bowls, brucellosis, suspected anthrax, suspected Friedreich’s ataxia (congenital genetic disorder found on the 9^th chromosome), suspected diabetes insipidus, suspected pituitary tumor,

It’s been a gift to expand my knowledge in the field of medicine by seeing so many rare conditions.

As you guys know, I have been raising money for the hospital. Each day I witness a new obstacle that could be solved by a simple resource. Please help my fellow volunteers and me by donating even a small amount.  Five dollars can help someone stuck in causality suffering immense pain because we ran out of Diclofenac or Tramadol. If you can’t donate please send a prayer over to Mount Meru and twins like these two below will thank you, among many other patients! Xo

https://fundrazr.com/campaigns/fpqrb/ab/a3poZ3

This week: Watoto (babies!)

This week I have been in the OBS and GYN ward at the hospital.

Heather and I began Tuesday by simply walking right in and offering the “sisters”, aka nurses, shortbread cookies.  It is also fair to say we walked in with ONLY the cookies, lacking any previous knowledge or experience in labor. We shuffled into the labor ward and noticed that five beds were occupied, and two of the beds were taken by screaming mothers. The women are not given any painkillers in order to hasten the second stage of labor.  We had no idea what we were doing, or what was going on… so we stood around until one of the nurses snapped on two pairs of sterile surgical gloves.

An injection of oxytocin was prepared and a sterile pack was set on the end of the bed of the birthing woman. I stood at the edge of the bed looking on as the nurse half guided the birth. She wore a very tired, apathetic face. My face was lit with excitement and anxiety. Before I knew it the head was out, and the rest of the body was guided out in a short instant following the head. I felt a rush of indescribable joy and happiness that moment. It was truly a feeling I have never felt before. My body suddenly warmed toe to head, and I heard myself utter an uncontrollable “aw.”

I saw that child take his very first breath of air on earth.

The following day in labor ward a crying baby was slow to come. After about one hour of waiting, the screaming from the mama of bed three began. A baby was born. The baby had low muscle tone and was having difficulty breathing. The births I had seen the day before lacked complications, so when this blue baby was born I was unsure how to stimulate breathing. We rubbed that back of the child vigorously, before the nurse brought him to the newborn warming table. The sister used suction until she entered a suction tube down the baby’s nose and throat. The machine broke, and the nurse reverted back to manual suction. Final the baby was breathing well enough that they ceased suction and let the child lay under the heat lamp. It was clear that the baby was still having trouble getting air in and out of it’s fresh lungs. It was painful to watch the fight of this 15 minute old mototo. All we could do is hope for a happy ending.

Upon walking back into the labor ward we found the doctor who was in distress over a woman who had umbilical cord prolapse. Umbilical cord prolapse is a delivery complication in which the umbilical cord leaves the body before the infant. Because the umbilical cord is the fetus’s lifeline, without it the fetus will die.

This woman had to be rushed into surgery for an emergency cesarean section.

I SCRUBBED IN!

Thankfully I had a second pair of scrubs, thanks to Zigi for running home to get us (Heather, Zigi, and I) an extra pair. What we didn’t have were hairnets, so we used old cotton rags pictured below. We looked pretty official.

If I thought I couldn’t handle blood before, NOW I without a doubt know that I am capable of seeing blood… and lots of it. We saw handfuls of blood in surgery. The mama was first given a vertical cut sternum to lower abdomen. The second small incision was in the fascia, which was made bigger by ripping a bigger hole to make the uterus visible. The last incision was made in the lower portion of the thick uterine wall. The doctor quickly grabbed the baby by the foot (the baby was positioned breach in the uterus) and set her down for the nurse to take over. The nurse whisked him away and we heard a faint but audible cry. We all smiled and awed, thankful that she was healthy. Before the three layers of suturing the doctor showed us the woman’s anatomy (briefly). Looking at the tightly packaged organs was my favorite part. He also showed us the very full bladder, which was the reason behind the initial vertical incision. Next was the bloody suturing… three layers of it.

The doctor did a beautiful job. After the Ketamine (street name: angel dust) had worn off the patient was dazed but awake and healthy.

Heather and I saw the baby in the neonatal ward today, pleased to see it’s happy smiling face.

Today (lao) is Thursday. Our move tonight will be to club ViaVia with many other volunteers and friends! It will be lonely without our crew of 12 but we are anxious for the night regardless!

Holiday

Happy Eid al-Fitr from Tanzania!

Eid is a “festival of breaking the fast,” celebrated by 1.6 billion Muslims around the world. It follows Eid al-Adha, which is the “festival of the Sacrifice.” The holiday’s significance comes from the commemoration of Ibrahim (Abraham)'s willingness to sacrifice his young first-born and only son in obedience of a command from God. Today the Islamic population celebrates the end of Ramadan fasting. Celebration includes family and friend gatherings, sweet dishes, using perfume, wearing new clothes, musically performances, etc.

The streets are often loud with backfiring motorcycles and loud rusty cars, but this morning I woke up to Islamic music bursting through my bedroom window; it was a nice change. I knew the holiday was upon us and the music excited me! I went on a run with Ben this morning hoping to see some of the celebration. The streets were much less crowded than we are used to. We noticed many men and women dressed their kufi’s (cap), and hijab’s (head scarf). We passed by a Mosque FULL of people. The ceremony was so loud that we could hear it from across the street. This volume was surely to accommodate the 100+ people outside the building listening in. The experience didn’t stop there. Heather and I decided to go into town to food shop, but before doing so we were invited into our neighbors apartment to have a special treat. We were caught off guard but very pleased to join. We sat on the couch and waited as our Islamic neighbor’s wife set out some sweet dishes for us to try. The first dish is known as, Seviyaan. It is boiled milk, sugar, and Vermicelli. I enjoyed it very much. This experience explains the festival's alternate title of “The Sugar Feast.”
Our neighbors were so kind to allow us to join them in their celebration, which continues into tomorrow. I am pleased to be learning about the many cultures and religions that surround me in Arusha!

Colorful land, colorful culture

Good morning everyone!

Another adventure to update you all on: a hike halfway up a dormant volcano to see a 50m waterfall.

Clemmons, our tour guide for the day, started us about 12km from our waterfall destination. The scenes weren’t like anything I have ever seen before. I will attempt to describe them but there is no way I can describe the beautiful landscape, no matter what mix of adjectives I use. If I were to paint a panorama of what I saw yesterday, I would only need four colors: green, brown, black, and white. Everything I touched with my feet or my hands was either earthy brown or various shades of green. But, upon a close-up view, I would add every other shade of the rainbow due to the wild flowers that were sprinkled perfectly across the land.

 I couldn’t help but pick one and put it behind my ear.

The land we walked wasn’t a compilation of random backyards it was village farmland. Each way you looked you’d see patchwork of various gardens.  What kind of fresh food vegetation did we see? Maize, carrots, beans, red cabbage, Chinese cabbage, avocado trees, sweet potatoes, brown potatoes, zucchini, COUNTLESS banana trees, and my favorite of all… coffee bean bushes. Did you know that coffee beans are sweet before being dried and roasted?

We also pick our own FRESH carrots…

 I don’t know what heaven is like… but I imagine it’s similar to this magical place.

 According to Clemmons we passed through three villages on the way up, one of them being his own. His village is the Kipande village, which translates into, “a piece of something.”

We were told this while we sipped banana beer provided by his friend since childhood who brewed the batch fresh that morning before we all journeyed on our hike. It was an interesting flavor, very acidic but sweet with bananas. 

The taste didn’t matter because, according to Clemmons, banana beer is a drink that brings people together. It is only served from one shared cup. The people who share it are usually strangers who leave with a tummy full of ndizi beer, and a new group of friends.

After 4 liters of banana beer gone, we taught our new friends the game of Frisbee. We played with a bucket lid that some young children (mtotos) were playing with. Our game consisted of 13 people, and our goal was to get 10 caught passes in a row. We had so many good laughs at falls, and fails before we finally reached our goal. We carried on down the mountain through a number of villages, passing more farming land as the sun set at our backs.

I fell in love with the countryside yesterday. I once thought I was strictly a city girl until I imagined my life in a small hut made from banana tree stalk, running through the hills each morning before tending to my our fruit and veggie gardens.

This morning I woke up at 6:50a for church. I thought it was going to be impossible to wake up, but I was reminded at 6:30a that our complex has a roaming rooster. I was up and ready for mass at seven-thirty. Phabian came to pick me up with Harriet and we were off to church. I was eager to compare the differences between a mass in the states vs. Arusha.

For starters, I soon realized I was the only white person of nearly 300 local Tanzanian people. As mass went on I realized that coming in late to church is no problem. Rather than seeing a your average five late families, the church began with the amount shown in the picture below, and grew about four times that amount.

Of course, this attitude is something readily accepted here. “Pole, pole,” which is Swahili for “slowly, slowly” is the motto here in TZ. I read in the same tour book mentioned in a previous post that arriving 30 minutes late to an appointment is on time, and arriving an hour late is acceptable. Those who know me well know that this place is absolutely perfect for me and my bad habit of being late. Oh and the choir singing was magical. We clapped during the songs, and there was no book to follow, the people in the pews knew the words and sang along with ease. I wanted to dance along with the musical artists! Their enthusiasm during each song persuaded me to ask Phabian if we could sit next to them next Sunday.

The Swahili mass lasted two hours, which is double the time of mass at home. Because I couldn’t understand the words I decided to say a few rosarys on my new 2000 TZ Shillings ($1.30) rosary. The most interesting difference to me was that all those volunteering to give money during the offering and/or participating in communion just got in line when they felt like it (no one was ushered to leave the pew during these events). Although, this felt like disorder to me, all things continued without a problem. I had no clue when to stand up to receive the bread…

Apart from the differences, many things were the same. The progression of the mass was the same. I knew when the sermon was being given. I kind of knew when to stand, sit, and kneel (thanks to watching others, of course). I murmured the Our Father prayer under my breath in English when I knew it was being recited. AND my VERY FAVORITE part of mass was offering peace to those in the pews around me. To those of you reading this who are not Catholic, that is when we offer those around us a sign of peace: handshake, hug, kiss. In TZ this moment was so special to me. Church was a bit cold this morning but this instant warmed me right from my heart out.

amani na awe nanyi – Peace be with you

xo

miss you guys.

Thoughts Tonight

Tonight I lie in my bed wide awake thinking about my time in Arusha since I arrived 11 days 6 hours and 30 minutes ago. I am trying to put into words how I'm feeling right now.
It's a mixture of love, sympathy, frustration, excitement, gratitude, pain, and happiness. All the negative adjectives can be explained by both what I've seen at the hospital and the surrounding cultural environment. 
I finished another night shift at the hospital tonight. We all had a productive night of learning and growing, as we always do.
I felt love today when I held a little boys hand as he received a 5% dextrose IV drip. The little guy was suffering a hypoglycemic coma. He had been rushed into the hospital by his mother who feared she was going to see her son die.
I felt sympathy for the mother who wouldn't even let go of the 7 year olds hand, not even to grab her phone to answer relative's calls or get a drink.
I was frustrated when I was told a patient from gen med wasn't going to get the medications she needed simply because the family refused to get them. Especially because those same family members treated other med students and I terribly upon the young girls arrival into the ER Wednesday, stating the urgent need of attention to her situation. 
I am excited to embark on a 15 mile hike around Mt. Meru tomorrow.
I am extremely grateful… for countless reasons. I am grateful for the small: being able to sleep on a mattress. I am grateful for the big: the chance to be here in Africa exploring a new culture each day.
It pains me to have to see the economic snuggles of a a 500 bed regional hospital... because I know if they had more money and more equipment that could serve the sick better.
I am happy. Happy to be breathing, living, and smiling.
Goodnight world.
Xo

Loving and Learning

“Nafurahi kukuona” is my phase of the week. I have been slacking on new lingo outside of the hospital. HOWEVER, I have been using the following words in the hospital: pain, where, good job, so sorry, why did you come to the hospital, blood, yes (in response to being called), head, and stomach.

But, my phase this week comes from an encounter I had with an Army man from the Congo. I met him in radiology as he assisted a patient there. I was waiting with Heather, Sophie, and the Elective Africa's assistant coordinator, Phabian, when he approached us. I spoke the little Swahili I knew and introduced myself, and the others did the same. He explained his background in choppy English and we had Phabian translate what we couldn’t communicate in Swahili about our background. We all ran into the problem of not being able to say, “nice to meet you.” He taught us how to say it, and we had a good laugh as we struggled to pronouce it correctly.

He was really good looking… I should add.
After speaking to the head doctor of the radiology department and as we were leaving the ward I ran into the Army man, Nukuna, once more. He grabbed my hand, and as I said bye (kwaheri), he said “I love you.” I asked him to repeat it and he repeated the three words often heard after 7 months of dating not within 7 minutes of meeting. We had a laugh.
Watch out mom, I may come home a married woman.

I want to quickly mention today’s events at Mt. Meru Regional Hospital. We again went on rounds with Dr. Farrah. He encourages us to complete the rounds independently as a team. We are even encouraged to make an educated guess on the diagnosis based on patient history, current symptoms and a physical examination. Today we had five volunteers from Elective Africa, and one from Work the World. We saw everything from chronic renal failure, to gangrene. We ended the shift with a plural tap/pluralcentesis…. AND I ASSISTED. Only with the lung-fluid draining process but I assisted none the less!

Check out that photo bomb ;) 

Tonight is a big night for us in the program. It is one of the last nights we will all be together as 12 (including Phabian). After a great week at the hospital, we are all eager to have a few drinks and relax. I’m lucky to be here in Arusha with such an fun group of people. XO