8/21/13
A statement that seems so appropriate metaphorically and
literally. It’s been
frustrating week . . . and it’s only hump day! For those of you who have not worked/volunteered/whatever in
a third world country, it is important to go in knowing that unless you are
personally taking care of everything (and I mean everything) . . . NOTHING will
ever go according as planned.
Also, NEVER underestimate the healing power of music.
I really have no complaints of any of the people who have so
graciously invited me to their home atop the clinic. Everyone here has been so nice and accommodating. They have even given me my own room
(something that I insisted was not necessary . . . but it’s nice to have
privacy). Now that Sandra is gone
(and my soon to be second in command in kicking cervical cancer on it’s ass is
no where to be found), everyone has been practicing their english with me. I have felt very welcomed here.
In really reflecting as to where all my frustrations stem
from . . . it is probably just cultural differences and the language
barrier. In clinic, the
staff has a tendency of walking into the exam room as they please to give you
more patient charts. Today, while
I was in the middle of getting a patient history, I was interrupted five
times! I also realized today (as
I’m familiar with some of the French/creole terms) that my interpreter
interchanges the terms ovary and uterus . . . something that I find more
comical than upsetting. She’s just
not someone I’d want interpreting during an emergency.
With the lack of communication between people here, I am
honestly surprised how anything gets done. I was told yesterday that there will not be an
anesthesiologist here until September 7, something that many of the other staff
were not aware of seeing as earlier that same day one of the nurses was telling
me I should schedule a hysterectomy this week (reasoning why is a long story .
. . but I get the feeling that there are a lot of non-indicated surgeries that
are performed here, hence the reason I have not needed to schedule a
hysterectomy after being here for two weeks).
No one knows when Carinne (the nurse I will train in cancer
screening) is coming back . . . no one can tell me if I’ll need an interpreter
next week . . . and no one knows when the internet will be back for good. For the past several days . . . I’ll
maybe get ten minutes of internet time a day (with my priorities of [first]
attempting to complete an online application for hospital privileges in Alaska,
and secondly updating my blog so that people like Dan Jackson can be
entertained (I’ve thoroughly enjoyed all of the encouraging posts from
everyone!)).
I’ve said this before . . . I know that not having the
interweb is not the end of the world.
I challenge you to abstain from using a phone or internet for an entire
work day . . . then tell me how easy it is. I’ll admit, I have become quite accustomed to using this
amazing thing . . . for work, entertainment, communication . . . I have no clue
how people functioned without it years before.
As I’m sitting here typing listening to a genius playlist of
‘I’ve seen all good people: your
move,’ I don’t feel so disconnected from my family and friends. The song came on last night while I was
working out . . . just hearing the start of the song, I was back in St. Louis
running with my dad (he’s telling me how this was one of the best songs by Yes
because it was all acoustic . . . so out of character) . . . I was going to see
Almost Famous at the Chase with Joe V and Melissa . . . I was finishing
hospital hill for the fourth time.
Have you ever noticed how a certain song can take remind you of a happy
time in your life . . . or if you’ve had a bad day for one reason or another,
you can here a song for the first time, and it suddenly makes everything better?
. . .
In medical school, it was the songs of Bob Dylan and The
Allman Brothers and Joni Mitchell (to name a few) that reminded me of a simpler
time . . . hot summer days at the pool . . . long car rides with my dad, where
he would tell me in detail what every song was about (and as I got older, he
would tell me stories of what he was doing when the album came out . . . which
significantly contributed to my love of the Grateful Dead and ‘Friend of The
Devil.’). During residency . . .
it was the music of Florence and the Machine and Michael Franti (despite Dan
Robertson’s feelings . . . I like his positive point of view!) and Mumford and
Sons would turn my frowns upside down after a bad day.
Now . . . I can’t emphasize this enough . . . the named
artists are just a small representation of my extensive musical collection. There is just so much artistic talent
that has the capacity to promote positive energy, if you let it.
No comments:
Post a Comment