Well, I'm officially back in the states but I'll finish up with one final closing blog.
As a friend from Jos put it, we went out with a bang- literally. This past Thursday the Camiolas, some friends, and I carpooled up to Abuja to check out the celebrations for Nigeria's 50th year of independence. They were going to have a program downtown. A couple of us girls went early the morning of and things were insane, people mobbing at the gates trying to get into an invitation only program. We talked to a guard and made it in but the Camiolas came a bit too late to get inside. The program itself, in my opinion, wasn't all that exciting. Of course, nothing ever goes as planned and that made things pretty eventful. Things like the major rainstorm in the middle of the program, people breaking down the back fence and climbing up trees to get in, guards breaking out the tazers, and then the car bombs a block down from us...just to name a few. The last was sad, reminded me of my last day at the medical outreach where they brought in the man who had just been beaten to death. You try to do something good but there's constantly a reminder of the evil that can pervade every aspect of life. Still, it's comforting to know there is salvation even for a broken place like Nigeria.
In these 2 short months I've wrestled with a lot of hard questions, specifically guidance as to what the next step is. Still don't have an answer to that but it's coming. Before leaving for Nigeria, I would say I really felt like I was on the edge of something great; God would have something amazing up His sleeve. Coming without a group and seeing the day-to-day life, I can equate missions with running the Chicago marathon (which by the way is this upcoming Sunday- can't wait!). People want to come to see the big event, cheer runners on, and be wowed by the greatest results. What the crowd doesn't see is the months of preparation behind that day- logging mile after mile, subsuquent injuries, and the daily struggle to just stay committed. However, that's where the greatest things lie, not in the "wow" but the "how" you got there. I've had some unforgettable experiences like assisting in surgeries, talking to prostitues, and working with orphans. The list could go on but what I did pales in comparison to what was done within me.
Thanks everyone for your support throughout this trip. You've all been such an encouragement!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Life as a Prostitute
This week I went to two brothels with Missy and Karise, two missionaries here. They go every week to a coulpe different brothels to do a Bible study with the prostitutes. They say sometimes the women are receptive, and other times not. It was surprising to me that the owners would allow us to bring in something that could potentially put them out of business. The gospel speaks directly against their business and that's what we're sharing. The unfathomable thing to me is not that they let us in but that the owner of one of these brothels is a leader in his church. The Bible says people will know we are Christians by our love. What love is there in running a business that allows women to sell themselves? At first I was disgusted and then all I felt was pity. He's fooled himself into thinking being a church leader can earn his way into heaven.
The first brothel was dark and the atmosphere heavy, what I expected. The second one, though, had yellow painted walls and somewhat of a cheerful feel. Definitely not what I expected. I realized that what separated the two was not the lack of or presence of bright colors or good lighting but the attitude of the women. With the first, the women's mannerisns were heavy, as if you could see the burden of work hanging on their shoulders. In the yellow brothel, women were going about the morning as if everything was normal- singing and joking with one another while doing the morning's chores. Walking in with no prior knowledge you might've thought it some type of housing project. In each we did a short Bible study with some of the women and I discovered why the women of the yellow brothel seemed so normal. Their hearts were almost completely chained up; letting themselves feel nothing was the easiest way to avoid the pain. Karise mentioned that just the week before one of the woman said something along the lines of, "You think we want to live like this, that we don't know what we're doing is wrong? This place has us all in chains." It was just a short glimpse of that woman's heart, though, because this week she was silent. Some might say it's deserved, they chose this life. True, as far as we know women aren't trafficked in these brothels but what looks like a short term solution to poverty turns into a longterm slavery to debt and hopelessness. I imagine it's the latter that makes it so difficult for these women to leave. If you believed there was nothing better for you outside- and at least here you get food, clothes, and shelter- why would you leave? Steal a person's hope and you have their freedom.
You think that someone living like this would jump on the chance of escape, be open to the prospect of a Savior who could set them free from this life. Mama Rahila ran the first brothel. She told us that she knew what she was doing was wrong and felt her sin piling up. Still she didn't leave, said that only if God would find her another business then she could go. Mama Rahila and what I think a lot of the women can't come to terms with is the depravity with which their lives have been carried out, hence the hardened hearts. How do you convince someone living like this that the power of Christ's death can break those chains?
The hardest thing about the brothels for me to come to terms with was the children that lived there. One girl especially caught my eye, Mama. She came right up to me and within minutes we were playing and laughing. It's like the reality of her life hadn't touched her yet. Naivety and a child-like ignorance had spared her these past 10 years of her life. Then I thought, 10 yrs...that's the same age as my little sister. It hit home. And how much longer would it be until Mama was ushered into the same lifestyle? Five or ten years? Maybe only three? I prayed that Missy's idea to buy the brothel and rehabilitate the women happens before Mama stops smiling.
The first brothel was dark and the atmosphere heavy, what I expected. The second one, though, had yellow painted walls and somewhat of a cheerful feel. Definitely not what I expected. I realized that what separated the two was not the lack of or presence of bright colors or good lighting but the attitude of the women. With the first, the women's mannerisns were heavy, as if you could see the burden of work hanging on their shoulders. In the yellow brothel, women were going about the morning as if everything was normal- singing and joking with one another while doing the morning's chores. Walking in with no prior knowledge you might've thought it some type of housing project. In each we did a short Bible study with some of the women and I discovered why the women of the yellow brothel seemed so normal. Their hearts were almost completely chained up; letting themselves feel nothing was the easiest way to avoid the pain. Karise mentioned that just the week before one of the woman said something along the lines of, "You think we want to live like this, that we don't know what we're doing is wrong? This place has us all in chains." It was just a short glimpse of that woman's heart, though, because this week she was silent. Some might say it's deserved, they chose this life. True, as far as we know women aren't trafficked in these brothels but what looks like a short term solution to poverty turns into a longterm slavery to debt and hopelessness. I imagine it's the latter that makes it so difficult for these women to leave. If you believed there was nothing better for you outside- and at least here you get food, clothes, and shelter- why would you leave? Steal a person's hope and you have their freedom.
You think that someone living like this would jump on the chance of escape, be open to the prospect of a Savior who could set them free from this life. Mama Rahila ran the first brothel. She told us that she knew what she was doing was wrong and felt her sin piling up. Still she didn't leave, said that only if God would find her another business then she could go. Mama Rahila and what I think a lot of the women can't come to terms with is the depravity with which their lives have been carried out, hence the hardened hearts. How do you convince someone living like this that the power of Christ's death can break those chains?
The hardest thing about the brothels for me to come to terms with was the children that lived there. One girl especially caught my eye, Mama. She came right up to me and within minutes we were playing and laughing. It's like the reality of her life hadn't touched her yet. Naivety and a child-like ignorance had spared her these past 10 years of her life. Then I thought, 10 yrs...that's the same age as my little sister. It hit home. And how much longer would it be until Mama was ushered into the same lifestyle? Five or ten years? Maybe only three? I prayed that Missy's idea to buy the brothel and rehabilitate the women happens before Mama stops smiling.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Let me tell ya about the zoos in Nigeria...
This past week has been a bit more relaxed which for the most part I welcomed after last week's medical outreach. Monday I went to the prison to do a Bible study with Missy Camiola. There were only two women prisoners (a good thing of course). It was humbling to hear their stories and prayer requests- that they'd be set free this year. In Nigeria you don't have the right to a speedy trial. I can't remember the exact numbers but Missy told me about a woman who had waited somewhere around 7 years to have a trial. Wednesday I went to Gidan Bege with Kelly to provide medical care for some Muslim women, something I've been doing every week I've been around. Not many women showed because it poured all day. Seriously, it was a huge mistake not to bring my raincoat here! It's rained just about every day. On Friday I went with Kelly to TH (kinda like a boarding school for teenage boys) to do assessments on the boys. It was fairly comical to have a discussion about HIV and Hep B with them. Teenagers are the same, whether in the US or Africa. Of course they got a kick out of seeing who could ask the most awkward questions, like health class freshmen year of high school. We had fun messing around with them and I'm fairly certain we scared at least some of them into abstinence by the end of it all.
The rest of the week I filled my time with getting familiar with Jos; something I probably should've done earlier but didn't really have the time. I went to the market and shops almost everyday most of the time not intending to get anything but often coming back with at least one thing. In the market you have to barter for everything especially because they mark up prices for anyone who isn't Nigerian. It's really fun going back and forth trying to settle a price to the point where I actually enjoy shopping, something previously unfathomable to me. I've also done some serious cooking and baking- mom you'd be so proud! I've made a roast beef dinner for the singles, stew, cinnamon rolls, and banana bread all from scratch. I even had to get the flour ground in the market. Next is learning some traditional Nigerian dishes. I feel like if I can accomplish that and learn some Hausa then this cross-cultural experience will be legit.
So here's the thing...in Nigeria- at least in Jos- there really isn't much exotic wildlife except some goats, random birds, and mosquitos. Of course, none of that is really exotic by any means but that fact that they are in Africa has to count for something. If you want to see some lions, monkeys, or snakes you have to hit up the local zoo which is exactly what a group of us did Friday morning. Let me preface this by saying this wasn't your typical Brookefield Zoo experience. A couple of guys pitched in some money so we could see the lions get fed their goat breakfast. We all made our way back to the lions' cages. They were probably a third the size of Brookefield's cages but had 4 lions in one and 3 in the other. The only thing separating you from them was a metal fence. No 20 foot drop or anything, you were at eye level with the lions and could get face-to-mane with them if you really wanted. Most of us stood at the base of the cages to watch but two of the guys went with one of the zoo keepers to the top of the cage. There was a rocky ledge that you could peer down into the cages from and get a bird's eye view. You could see the lions' hungrily pacing back and forth just below their feet trying to bite/claw through the cage to get a man-sized meal.
Feeding time came and the zookeeper ushered the first goat to the edge of the cage, opened a small trap door (the lion's head was literally right beneath it), and before the goat could even fall 2 ft the lion snatched it by the neck and ran for a corner. Same thing for the other two goats that were thrown. It was slightly anti-climatic and as gruesome as it may seem, I was hoping for a bit of a chase. Putting a rabbit in there seemed like it might've been more exciting. Then we got to the next cage. This one had no trap door. In order to get the goats in you had to throw them up and over the fence. Dustin, one of the guys from our group, threw the first one. Actually, it was more like he was warming up in the outfield and throwing a fly ball to a friend. The sound when the goat finally hit the ground 50 ft later sent some unexpected shivers down my spine. The sound of the lion biting through the skull didn't really help either. Seriously, put some perspective on what Daniel must've been feeling before being thrown into the lion's den. In went the other two goats. The first was instantly snatched up by the 3 other lion's and taken to a back corner as they literally pulled the goat, which was still very much alive, to pieces. The third goat was by far, in my opinion, the most unlucky of them all. The lions were preoccupied with the other food that it was left alone for a good 10 minutes. It broke its leg on impact and was essentially helpless, not that it really had any chance of escape. So, it stood still watching the other two get eaten. We found ourselves starting to cheer for that one, hoping that maybe- just maybe- the other lions would never find it. All our hopes were torn to pieces (kind of like that goat...) when it started to move and instantly caught the attention of a lion who was happy to have fresh meat. I have to say I was very impressed with the way the lion knew exactly where to start chewing and how skillfully it was done. He bit a tiny whole through the fur and underlying tissue and pulled out the stomach in one piece. Of course then he tore open the stomach spilling the goat's very green breakfast over its own carcass. Yah, that was pretty gross especially when some of the juice was flung on my arm. Sick. We watched a little while longer then looked at some of the other animals- snakes, monkeys, birds, and a horse. All pretty standard. I heard you can pay to feed the snakes, though. Maybe next time...
The rest of the week I filled my time with getting familiar with Jos; something I probably should've done earlier but didn't really have the time. I went to the market and shops almost everyday most of the time not intending to get anything but often coming back with at least one thing. In the market you have to barter for everything especially because they mark up prices for anyone who isn't Nigerian. It's really fun going back and forth trying to settle a price to the point where I actually enjoy shopping, something previously unfathomable to me. I've also done some serious cooking and baking- mom you'd be so proud! I've made a roast beef dinner for the singles, stew, cinnamon rolls, and banana bread all from scratch. I even had to get the flour ground in the market. Next is learning some traditional Nigerian dishes. I feel like if I can accomplish that and learn some Hausa then this cross-cultural experience will be legit.
So here's the thing...in Nigeria- at least in Jos- there really isn't much exotic wildlife except some goats, random birds, and mosquitos. Of course, none of that is really exotic by any means but that fact that they are in Africa has to count for something. If you want to see some lions, monkeys, or snakes you have to hit up the local zoo which is exactly what a group of us did Friday morning. Let me preface this by saying this wasn't your typical Brookefield Zoo experience. A couple of guys pitched in some money so we could see the lions get fed their goat breakfast. We all made our way back to the lions' cages. They were probably a third the size of Brookefield's cages but had 4 lions in one and 3 in the other. The only thing separating you from them was a metal fence. No 20 foot drop or anything, you were at eye level with the lions and could get face-to-mane with them if you really wanted. Most of us stood at the base of the cages to watch but two of the guys went with one of the zoo keepers to the top of the cage. There was a rocky ledge that you could peer down into the cages from and get a bird's eye view. You could see the lions' hungrily pacing back and forth just below their feet trying to bite/claw through the cage to get a man-sized meal.
Feeding time came and the zookeeper ushered the first goat to the edge of the cage, opened a small trap door (the lion's head was literally right beneath it), and before the goat could even fall 2 ft the lion snatched it by the neck and ran for a corner. Same thing for the other two goats that were thrown. It was slightly anti-climatic and as gruesome as it may seem, I was hoping for a bit of a chase. Putting a rabbit in there seemed like it might've been more exciting. Then we got to the next cage. This one had no trap door. In order to get the goats in you had to throw them up and over the fence. Dustin, one of the guys from our group, threw the first one. Actually, it was more like he was warming up in the outfield and throwing a fly ball to a friend. The sound when the goat finally hit the ground 50 ft later sent some unexpected shivers down my spine. The sound of the lion biting through the skull didn't really help either. Seriously, put some perspective on what Daniel must've been feeling before being thrown into the lion's den. In went the other two goats. The first was instantly snatched up by the 3 other lion's and taken to a back corner as they literally pulled the goat, which was still very much alive, to pieces. The third goat was by far, in my opinion, the most unlucky of them all. The lions were preoccupied with the other food that it was left alone for a good 10 minutes. It broke its leg on impact and was essentially helpless, not that it really had any chance of escape. So, it stood still watching the other two get eaten. We found ourselves starting to cheer for that one, hoping that maybe- just maybe- the other lions would never find it. All our hopes were torn to pieces (kind of like that goat...) when it started to move and instantly caught the attention of a lion who was happy to have fresh meat. I have to say I was very impressed with the way the lion knew exactly where to start chewing and how skillfully it was done. He bit a tiny whole through the fur and underlying tissue and pulled out the stomach in one piece. Of course then he tore open the stomach spilling the goat's very green breakfast over its own carcass. Yah, that was pretty gross especially when some of the juice was flung on my arm. Sick. We watched a little while longer then looked at some of the other animals- snakes, monkeys, birds, and a horse. All pretty standard. I heard you can pay to feed the snakes, though. Maybe next time...
Monday, September 6, 2010
Medical Outreach Part 3
So, Tuesday ended badly and unfortunately my attitude carried into Wednesday morning. I was still extremely frustrated which only increased when a scrub nurse tried to teach me the different surgical instruments. He had a thick accent and it was hard for me to understand anything he said. We were both about to explode when thankfully a surgeon asked me to scrub in for an inguinal hernia. At least that was something slightly familiar. I tried to remind myself, "Katie, you told God you would make yourself available to serve in whatever way you could" but I felt as if I was at a breaking point. In my last blog, I had said that I'm thankful I didn't relocate and this day was the main reason why. I assisted in 4 different surgeries: 2 inguinal hernia repairs, a bullet removal, and a lipoma removal. For each one I worked with a different surgeon and they were such an encouragement to me. They explained the procedures in detail, even taught them to me, and insisted I asked endless amounts of questions. One surgeon even made me repeat the steps of an inguinal hernia repair- intimidating but I felt like I had accomplished something when I could. What's more is that barbaric practices transformed into necessary actions to provide patients with the best chance of recovery under the current circumstances. For example, the "cut and tear" prevented unnecessary blood loss. Another surgeon took the time to teach me how to suture and let me close a couple patients up. He also let me administer the local anesthetic to the patient. Definitely wouldn't be able to do that back in the US right now!
I became sort of the theater pet. Anytime anything interesting was happening someone would call to me come and look or have me scrub into to assist. Altogether I assisted in over a dozen surgeries; mainly minor ones like hernia repairs, lipoma removals, and what not. Thursday afternoon and Friday morning I learned the scrub nurse position. US or Nigeria, I still think it's the most miserable nursing job there is. It did give me an opportunity to sneak in to see some other major surgeries. One woman had a tumor the size of a basketball removed from her stomach. I walked up to the front of the operating table to get a better view and the woman looked at me. Really freaked me out for a second because in the US for a surgery that intense the patient would be knocked out. What's more is that she only had one unit of blood and no other fluids infusing. There's no way that replaced all the blood I saw spilling onto the floor. I wanted to comfort her but what could I say? Wow, that looks painful...don't think that would be helpful. I was thankful for a language barrier at that point. It was too awkward for me so I left pretty soon after coming. I didn't want her to feel as if she was on display.
The week was coming to a close and although I was very grateful for the learning experiences I had, I could not wait to leave. Plus, we got to end early Friday because the king was having us over for dinner at his palace later that evening. We were just finishing up packing away the medical supplies. When suddenly some police officers came up. They were carrying the body of a young man who had shot a local muslim leader. In retaliation, they smashed his head in. The police literally just dumped him on the ground in front of the theater and as our chief surgeon argued with them about what to do, I watched the circle of blood grow larger and larger around the guy's head. Not that anything could've been done for him, his murders were intent on his death and achieved that, but I thought how sad this was. I know what he did was wrong but how did his death solve anything except perpetuate a cycle of killing? Now his family and friends would avenge his death- where does that end? What really disgusted me was not the cruel death or even the people arguing over what to do with the body but the others who gathered around taking pictures with their camera phones. How disrespectful, how inhumane...this man is a human being. What dignity this man had left after killing the muslim leader was taken from him. It's that kind of ignorance and apathy that makes these horrible things ok. I felt a bit helpless. We had been working all week to help people, save some lives even. To end with such with this- it made our efforts seem almost futile. What can we do in such a corrupt world that would make a difference? Then I began to think you know, that's why we have a Savior. This is why Christ sacrificed himself for us, that people could be saved from lives of sin and death. Things don't have to be this way, they aren't suppose to be. Instead of questioning or staying angry, I thanked God for salvation. What a gift it is to be rescued from that. Makes me wonder how someone can chose not to believe in Christ.
Everyone got cleaned up and we all crammed into vehicles to head out for dinner at the king's palace. I had been there earlier that week and I knew it was no Buckingham, like they had said, but it was good to have a night of fun after a long week. They gave everyone a tour of the place and had dinner in the front courtyard. Two young guys performed a traditional African dance for us which was kind of odd because they were wearing jeans and polos while doing it. Didn't seem to so traditional to me. Anyways, the evening challenged me because I was exhausted- not at all in the mood for partying- and everyone wants to take pictures with the batouris. Having my photograph taken is one of my least favorite things and I had to do it countless times that night, sometimes by myself which was slightly annoying. I was thankful when the evening was over and even more so when we arrived back in Jos the next day. I was really looking forward to a hot shower but of course I had none. I didn't care though because it felt so good to be back!
I became sort of the theater pet. Anytime anything interesting was happening someone would call to me come and look or have me scrub into to assist. Altogether I assisted in over a dozen surgeries; mainly minor ones like hernia repairs, lipoma removals, and what not. Thursday afternoon and Friday morning I learned the scrub nurse position. US or Nigeria, I still think it's the most miserable nursing job there is. It did give me an opportunity to sneak in to see some other major surgeries. One woman had a tumor the size of a basketball removed from her stomach. I walked up to the front of the operating table to get a better view and the woman looked at me. Really freaked me out for a second because in the US for a surgery that intense the patient would be knocked out. What's more is that she only had one unit of blood and no other fluids infusing. There's no way that replaced all the blood I saw spilling onto the floor. I wanted to comfort her but what could I say? Wow, that looks painful...don't think that would be helpful. I was thankful for a language barrier at that point. It was too awkward for me so I left pretty soon after coming. I didn't want her to feel as if she was on display.
The week was coming to a close and although I was very grateful for the learning experiences I had, I could not wait to leave. Plus, we got to end early Friday because the king was having us over for dinner at his palace later that evening. We were just finishing up packing away the medical supplies. When suddenly some police officers came up. They were carrying the body of a young man who had shot a local muslim leader. In retaliation, they smashed his head in. The police literally just dumped him on the ground in front of the theater and as our chief surgeon argued with them about what to do, I watched the circle of blood grow larger and larger around the guy's head. Not that anything could've been done for him, his murders were intent on his death and achieved that, but I thought how sad this was. I know what he did was wrong but how did his death solve anything except perpetuate a cycle of killing? Now his family and friends would avenge his death- where does that end? What really disgusted me was not the cruel death or even the people arguing over what to do with the body but the others who gathered around taking pictures with their camera phones. How disrespectful, how inhumane...this man is a human being. What dignity this man had left after killing the muslim leader was taken from him. It's that kind of ignorance and apathy that makes these horrible things ok. I felt a bit helpless. We had been working all week to help people, save some lives even. To end with such with this- it made our efforts seem almost futile. What can we do in such a corrupt world that would make a difference? Then I began to think you know, that's why we have a Savior. This is why Christ sacrificed himself for us, that people could be saved from lives of sin and death. Things don't have to be this way, they aren't suppose to be. Instead of questioning or staying angry, I thanked God for salvation. What a gift it is to be rescued from that. Makes me wonder how someone can chose not to believe in Christ.
Everyone got cleaned up and we all crammed into vehicles to head out for dinner at the king's palace. I had been there earlier that week and I knew it was no Buckingham, like they had said, but it was good to have a night of fun after a long week. They gave everyone a tour of the place and had dinner in the front courtyard. Two young guys performed a traditional African dance for us which was kind of odd because they were wearing jeans and polos while doing it. Didn't seem to so traditional to me. Anyways, the evening challenged me because I was exhausted- not at all in the mood for partying- and everyone wants to take pictures with the batouris. Having my photograph taken is one of my least favorite things and I had to do it countless times that night, sometimes by myself which was slightly annoying. I was thankful when the evening was over and even more so when we arrived back in Jos the next day. I was really looking forward to a hot shower but of course I had none. I didn't care though because it felt so good to be back!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Medical Outreach Part 2
Ugh, I'm beginning to wish I had brought my own computer out here. I didn't realize that there was fairly good internet access and underestimated my dependency on it! Alright, Family Care Medical Outreach part 2....
Tuesday was a very hectic day, similar to how I felt the first day of clinical in nursing school- completely lost. Devotions and breakfast were at 6:45am and we were off to the hospital by 7:45. Now, having gone through a couple days in the OR back in teh US, working in the theater here was not sounding like much fun to me. So, I was really glad to hear that it had been arranged for me to do a couple home visits, one of which to the king's palace. The first visit was to see the mother of one of Josh's (main leader of Family Care) friends. After the doctor talked with her and rewrote her prescription we headed to the palace. Before coming here I had heard some of the Nigerian doctors saying how great this place was, comparable to Buckingham. Judging from the outside I kind of figured that was a bit of an exaggeration and I was write. To be fair, compared to a lot of the homes we past the palace was enormous and extravagant. Still, I couldn't help but notice the half broken light fixtures in the gardens, unkempt yard, and occasional broken windows. In general, it was a bit dilapaudated. We had a short tour and then met the king and queen. It was a bit odd seeing people bow before him. I know it's a sign of respect but I didn't really care for it. The other thing I really didn't care for was the 50 years of difference in age between the king and queen...so gross...
We did some formal greetings with the king, thanking him for having us here and he thanked us as well for coming. We gave him a quick check up then moved to the reception room to assess 3 more people. If there's one thing I've learned thus far about Nigerians is that they often don't say quite what they mean. 20 people later we were finally wrapping up. You'd think you were at the end of the line and then 2 more people would sneak in. However, it was really interesting to see that those people all shared one thing in common: out of control hpertension. I'm talking like a 200/110 blood pressure when a normal one is 120/80. One man's case was so out of control that his heart, to cope with the stress, had started beating in something similar to the rhythm of a waltz. Another woman who was 22, my age, was walking around with a BP of 150/90. I know part of it is the belief that fat is good and a general lack of education about nutrition but it makes me wonder how stressful their lives must be. After about 3 hours we had to leave. There were more people we could've seen but it was taking doctors and time away from people who couldn't afford any healthcare. On a selfish note, it was already 2:30 and we hadn't eaten since 7 that morning.
After a 20 min break for food they shipped me off to the theater. In truth, I was not too excited but had told myself before coming that I would open to whatever it is God would have me do. That's the general attitude I tried to keep and it really helped me get through some tough experiences, the worst of which happening this afternoon. Upon arriving to the theater, they immediately had me scrub in (really just wash my hands) to assist in a surgery. I told the doctors that I'm ready to help with whatever they needed but I wanted to be like this is not what I had in mind. I wasn't quite ready for it either. So, there I was all geared up in my handwashed, sterile gown and sandals ready to dig in. The doctor gave the local anesthetic, grabbed the blade from the patient's lap (that's where you set all the instruments), and began. There's this method called the cut and tear that they used on all the patient's here. You make a cut that gets just through the skin and then you reach in your fingers and tear the rest of the subcutaneous tissue apart, as far as you have to go. Fixing an inguinal hernia, it's not so bad but when you see them do it for a C-section it leaves a lasting impression.
The surgery I was assisting with, repairing an inguinal hernia, should've only taken about 45 min but lasted 3 hours. It was a mix of poor pain control, a nervous patient, and what seemed like a bit of inexperience on the doctor's part. I got the feeling that either he hadn't done this much or was really trying to rush through it. Either way the patient was moving and begging for more anesthetic and the doctor wanted to continue on. However, when you don't have a patient at ease things become increasingly difficult. An inguinal hernia is a protrusion of bowel through the inguinal canal, which is located near our hip. If the patient tenses his abdomen at all once he is opened up, his bowels will push farther out making it difficult to correct the hernia. With our patient uneasy and in pain, it was pretty difficult to correct. I stood there holding the instruments retracting the patient's skin wanting so badly to yell at the doctor to do whatever it took to get rid of the his pain; close the patient up and just be done with it. I knew, though, that with the extended period of time he had been open and al the pain he had already endured, it would've been far more cruel to close him up without finishing the repair. Thankfully another surgeon came and in 30 minutes everything was fixed and done. Didn't know how much longer of that I could take.
You might have a pretty bad impression of the doctor's and facility there, and by the end of the day I did too. In fact, I seriously considered begging to be relocated somewhere, anywhere else. I would rather be mobbed by people trying to pass out cards than go back to the theater. Thankfully I didn't leave because in the following days God opened my eyes to see everything with a new perspective.
Tuesday was a very hectic day, similar to how I felt the first day of clinical in nursing school- completely lost. Devotions and breakfast were at 6:45am and we were off to the hospital by 7:45. Now, having gone through a couple days in the OR back in teh US, working in the theater here was not sounding like much fun to me. So, I was really glad to hear that it had been arranged for me to do a couple home visits, one of which to the king's palace. The first visit was to see the mother of one of Josh's (main leader of Family Care) friends. After the doctor talked with her and rewrote her prescription we headed to the palace. Before coming here I had heard some of the Nigerian doctors saying how great this place was, comparable to Buckingham. Judging from the outside I kind of figured that was a bit of an exaggeration and I was write. To be fair, compared to a lot of the homes we past the palace was enormous and extravagant. Still, I couldn't help but notice the half broken light fixtures in the gardens, unkempt yard, and occasional broken windows. In general, it was a bit dilapaudated. We had a short tour and then met the king and queen. It was a bit odd seeing people bow before him. I know it's a sign of respect but I didn't really care for it. The other thing I really didn't care for was the 50 years of difference in age between the king and queen...so gross...
We did some formal greetings with the king, thanking him for having us here and he thanked us as well for coming. We gave him a quick check up then moved to the reception room to assess 3 more people. If there's one thing I've learned thus far about Nigerians is that they often don't say quite what they mean. 20 people later we were finally wrapping up. You'd think you were at the end of the line and then 2 more people would sneak in. However, it was really interesting to see that those people all shared one thing in common: out of control hpertension. I'm talking like a 200/110 blood pressure when a normal one is 120/80. One man's case was so out of control that his heart, to cope with the stress, had started beating in something similar to the rhythm of a waltz. Another woman who was 22, my age, was walking around with a BP of 150/90. I know part of it is the belief that fat is good and a general lack of education about nutrition but it makes me wonder how stressful their lives must be. After about 3 hours we had to leave. There were more people we could've seen but it was taking doctors and time away from people who couldn't afford any healthcare. On a selfish note, it was already 2:30 and we hadn't eaten since 7 that morning.
After a 20 min break for food they shipped me off to the theater. In truth, I was not too excited but had told myself before coming that I would open to whatever it is God would have me do. That's the general attitude I tried to keep and it really helped me get through some tough experiences, the worst of which happening this afternoon. Upon arriving to the theater, they immediately had me scrub in (really just wash my hands) to assist in a surgery. I told the doctors that I'm ready to help with whatever they needed but I wanted to be like this is not what I had in mind. I wasn't quite ready for it either. So, there I was all geared up in my handwashed, sterile gown and sandals ready to dig in. The doctor gave the local anesthetic, grabbed the blade from the patient's lap (that's where you set all the instruments), and began. There's this method called the cut and tear that they used on all the patient's here. You make a cut that gets just through the skin and then you reach in your fingers and tear the rest of the subcutaneous tissue apart, as far as you have to go. Fixing an inguinal hernia, it's not so bad but when you see them do it for a C-section it leaves a lasting impression.
The surgery I was assisting with, repairing an inguinal hernia, should've only taken about 45 min but lasted 3 hours. It was a mix of poor pain control, a nervous patient, and what seemed like a bit of inexperience on the doctor's part. I got the feeling that either he hadn't done this much or was really trying to rush through it. Either way the patient was moving and begging for more anesthetic and the doctor wanted to continue on. However, when you don't have a patient at ease things become increasingly difficult. An inguinal hernia is a protrusion of bowel through the inguinal canal, which is located near our hip. If the patient tenses his abdomen at all once he is opened up, his bowels will push farther out making it difficult to correct the hernia. With our patient uneasy and in pain, it was pretty difficult to correct. I stood there holding the instruments retracting the patient's skin wanting so badly to yell at the doctor to do whatever it took to get rid of the his pain; close the patient up and just be done with it. I knew, though, that with the extended period of time he had been open and al the pain he had already endured, it would've been far more cruel to close him up without finishing the repair. Thankfully another surgeon came and in 30 minutes everything was fixed and done. Didn't know how much longer of that I could take.
You might have a pretty bad impression of the doctor's and facility there, and by the end of the day I did too. In fact, I seriously considered begging to be relocated somewhere, anywhere else. I would rather be mobbed by people trying to pass out cards than go back to the theater. Thankfully I didn't leave because in the following days God opened my eyes to see everything with a new perspective.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Family Care Medical Outreach
Wow, this past week was crazy! There was an over abundance of challenges and interesting experiences. I'll have to write about this weeks in parts because there are so many stories to tell.
I went on a week long trip to Okene, Kogi state with a Christian organization called Family Care. They do these outreaches every couple months providing free medical to villages that otherwise would get good healthcare. Another girl, Ruth, and I went together and had a very busy week. She was their to photograph and I worked in the theater (OR to all us Americans). We spent Sunday night in Abuja and one of the leader's (Artero's) house and then drove to Okene Monday morning. Family care had already been there for a couple days trying to get the hospital ready, cleaning it and stocking it with all the needed medical equipment (a lot of which they donated at the end of the week). We stopped at the hospital first just to have a look around. There were so many people we could hardly pull into the gates. When people hear about free medical care they come by the thousands. Some will wait there for the entire week hoping to get a chance for free care.
Here's a broad idea of how it works. There's one person, Solomon, handing out medical cards. Without that card you can't be seen by the doctors. Solomon was mobbed and chased daily. People can get pretty aggressive so we had police with us who helped manage the crowds. With a card you would see the general practitioners who would treat, prescribes meds, or refer them the dental, theater, or optometrists specialists. If they needed surgery, they'd have to wait in a long line again for to be seen. I'm not certain how the dental and eye areas worked- I spent all my time in the theater- but I know a lot of people who had been suffering for years were healed. More about that later...
Monday after noon, Ruth and I got settled in the hotel and I went back to the hospital to jump right into things. They suited me up in a pair of large scrubs, put some flip flops on me (yes, flip flops to do surgery!), and sent me in to watch an inguinal hernia repair. I think how the Nigerian surgeons described it was pretty accurate; they said this is "jungle medicine". You do what you can with what you have in the surroundings you're given. There were 2 theaters, one of which was maybe the size of an OR room in the US and the other about half the size of a US OR room. The first room had 5 operating tables and the second had 3. You would literally be standing back to back with surgeons from the other tables. There was no running water and the electricity didn't work at all times. Even if it did work the lighting was terrible and one table was always in the shadows. Each room had one table full of "sterile" equipment with one scrub nurse attending to all the surgeries that were happening. Those poor nurses were running like mad to fulfill all the doctors demands. The doctor's didn't have it so great either. Majority of the surgeries were done with local anesthetic, only major surgeries got an epidural. Thankfully they had medication to knock out the children. It was shocking to me that none of them were given oxygen or intubated during these procedures, and I can only remember 2 patients who were given transfusions. Almost every surgery I saw in the US, the patient was knocked out and intubated. Here one patient was cut open from sternum to navel and was completely awake. When she looked at me, I didn't know quite what to do. I wanted to say something but what would I say? I felt like "So, how's it going?" wasn't exactly appropriate so I was kind of thankful we didn't speak the same language.
So, one after the other patient's were brought into the two rooms and the surgeons just cranked through surgeries. I forget the exact number but it was about 180 they did in one week, which I thought was impressive. That's not including any of the eye or dental surgeries. Some of the most amazing stories came from the eye surgeries. One man had been blind since a young age; he was now 30. He went home last week being able to see. There were so many miraculous stories like that. The thing I really like about Family Care is that they not only give this free medical care, they take time to minister to the people. Okene is predominately Muslim so they did a lot of talking about Christ to people. I think Josh (the head of Family Care) said that they were able to speak with 5,000 people, some of whom came accepted Christ. I love one story of a woman. They talked with her and she said she had accepted Christ as her Saviour. To show her sincerity in this she broke the fast of Rahmedan (that's probably not spelled right...) in front of many Muslim people by drinking water. Her family could cast her out for that. I admire her boldness; it could only came from a heart truly changed by God.
So, that's us as brief as possible overview of my week. I'll write so more specific stories in the following blogs to come! And, I feel like I've made a habit out of saying this, I have pictures of the week but I'll have to upload them to facebook sometime...when I have more time...which could be awhile!
I went on a week long trip to Okene, Kogi state with a Christian organization called Family Care. They do these outreaches every couple months providing free medical to villages that otherwise would get good healthcare. Another girl, Ruth, and I went together and had a very busy week. She was their to photograph and I worked in the theater (OR to all us Americans). We spent Sunday night in Abuja and one of the leader's (Artero's) house and then drove to Okene Monday morning. Family care had already been there for a couple days trying to get the hospital ready, cleaning it and stocking it with all the needed medical equipment (a lot of which they donated at the end of the week). We stopped at the hospital first just to have a look around. There were so many people we could hardly pull into the gates. When people hear about free medical care they come by the thousands. Some will wait there for the entire week hoping to get a chance for free care.
Here's a broad idea of how it works. There's one person, Solomon, handing out medical cards. Without that card you can't be seen by the doctors. Solomon was mobbed and chased daily. People can get pretty aggressive so we had police with us who helped manage the crowds. With a card you would see the general practitioners who would treat, prescribes meds, or refer them the dental, theater, or optometrists specialists. If they needed surgery, they'd have to wait in a long line again for to be seen. I'm not certain how the dental and eye areas worked- I spent all my time in the theater- but I know a lot of people who had been suffering for years were healed. More about that later...
Monday after noon, Ruth and I got settled in the hotel and I went back to the hospital to jump right into things. They suited me up in a pair of large scrubs, put some flip flops on me (yes, flip flops to do surgery!), and sent me in to watch an inguinal hernia repair. I think how the Nigerian surgeons described it was pretty accurate; they said this is "jungle medicine". You do what you can with what you have in the surroundings you're given. There were 2 theaters, one of which was maybe the size of an OR room in the US and the other about half the size of a US OR room. The first room had 5 operating tables and the second had 3. You would literally be standing back to back with surgeons from the other tables. There was no running water and the electricity didn't work at all times. Even if it did work the lighting was terrible and one table was always in the shadows. Each room had one table full of "sterile" equipment with one scrub nurse attending to all the surgeries that were happening. Those poor nurses were running like mad to fulfill all the doctors demands. The doctor's didn't have it so great either. Majority of the surgeries were done with local anesthetic, only major surgeries got an epidural. Thankfully they had medication to knock out the children. It was shocking to me that none of them were given oxygen or intubated during these procedures, and I can only remember 2 patients who were given transfusions. Almost every surgery I saw in the US, the patient was knocked out and intubated. Here one patient was cut open from sternum to navel and was completely awake. When she looked at me, I didn't know quite what to do. I wanted to say something but what would I say? I felt like "So, how's it going?" wasn't exactly appropriate so I was kind of thankful we didn't speak the same language.
So, one after the other patient's were brought into the two rooms and the surgeons just cranked through surgeries. I forget the exact number but it was about 180 they did in one week, which I thought was impressive. That's not including any of the eye or dental surgeries. Some of the most amazing stories came from the eye surgeries. One man had been blind since a young age; he was now 30. He went home last week being able to see. There were so many miraculous stories like that. The thing I really like about Family Care is that they not only give this free medical care, they take time to minister to the people. Okene is predominately Muslim so they did a lot of talking about Christ to people. I think Josh (the head of Family Care) said that they were able to speak with 5,000 people, some of whom came accepted Christ. I love one story of a woman. They talked with her and she said she had accepted Christ as her Saviour. To show her sincerity in this she broke the fast of Rahmedan (that's probably not spelled right...) in front of many Muslim people by drinking water. Her family could cast her out for that. I admire her boldness; it could only came from a heart truly changed by God.
So, that's us as brief as possible overview of my week. I'll write so more specific stories in the following blogs to come! And, I feel like I've made a habit out of saying this, I have pictures of the week but I'll have to upload them to facebook sometime...when I have more time...which could be awhile!
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Kids Camp
So, this past week was the camp and over 100 kids showed up. It started Monday afternoon and just finished up today. I was a hut leader and camp nurse. We had the opportunity to stay over night but I only did once since my apartment was only 20 minutes away. Plus, tomorrow I'm headed for a week long medical outreach trip near Abuja. Anyways, I was really impressed with how well put together things were and on such a small budget. There was morning praise & worship, Bible time, craft time, sports in the afternoon, and programs at night. Even the food was impressive, at least I thought so. I remember what camp food was like when I went as a kid, rubbery eggs and questionable casseroles. The meals here were basic dishes- a starch with some type of sauce- but it had to be made from scratch every day so it was always fresh. Nigerians really love spicy foods and I could only handle so much. Plus, they gave out huge portions. I usually gave at least half my meal away.
My part in camp was basically to stick with my hut of girls unless someone got hurt or sick. There was a pretty even split in my time between the two things. I cleaned a fair amount of scraped knees and gave out meds for stomach and headaches, both of which seem to be fairly common here. Probably due to the fact that they don't drink enough water and if they do, it's not filtered. Camp having fallen during my time in Jos turned out to be sort of a blessing because it really helped me get connected with the kids. Going to Gyero to paint brought me to where they lived but didn't necessarily help me build relationships. I think I may have said this before but the kids here really are confident. The first day I got out of the car they come running up to you saying, "Aunty, Aunty! What is your name?". And pretty much anytime I sat down there was someone messing with my hair or grabbing whatever I had in my hands. You get to know them pretty fast although that doesn't mean I could remember all their names. There were so many repeated or similar names. In my hut I had two Mercy
I got fairly close with some of the girls in my hut. It doesn't take much, though; if you spin them around a couple times they'll love you for life. There were a lot of strong personalities and energy in my group, which made for some interesting times, but we came out of it without major issues. With a group of about 15 middle school/junior high girls, I feel like that's an accomplishment. One of the girls from my group, Joy, had a collision the first day in morning exercises and cut her face. I cleaned it for her and we were buddies ever since. I'm sure she has parents but if I could take her home with me I would! Her face would light up every time she laughed and you couldn't help but smile with her. I made friends with a couple of the boy as well. Daweng taught me some soccer tricks which I failed miserably at. Everyone here is good at soccer. Even if they've never played before they pick it up fast. It's in their blood or something...same with dancing. These kids, and the adults too, all have incredible rhythm. The first night I stayed over they had some of the Aunties and Uncles (adult leaders) come up in front of the kids and dance to some songs. I was called up a couple times, one where it was just me and older Nigerian woman dancing. Originally it made me a little nervous to get up there but once you started dancing you were having to much fun to even worry about it. I tried to take some pictures at camp but it was a struggle for a couple reasons. First, I just don't care much for taking pictures. Second, if you take out a camera you will have kids all over you trying to take the camera or asking you to "snap" them.
Each hut split up everyday to discuss the Bible lesson that one of the Uncles had given in the morning. I really liked the way they had the lessons progress. There were ones about forgiveness or being a faithful servant. Each day kind of set the stage for today's final Bible lesson which was geared toward salvation. A fair amount of kids accepted Christ today, and I truly believe that most understood and meant it. A lot of these kids come from difficult backgrounds and none of them have cushy lives. Some have lost their parents from sickness and others have 3 sets of torn clothing. It's no doubt God's hand in their lives that they aren't given over to the anger and hardness that would come so easily with their situations.
My part in camp was basically to stick with my hut of girls unless someone got hurt or sick. There was a pretty even split in my time between the two things. I cleaned a fair amount of scraped knees and gave out meds for stomach and headaches, both of which seem to be fairly common here. Probably due to the fact that they don't drink enough water and if they do, it's not filtered. Camp having fallen during my time in Jos turned out to be sort of a blessing because it really helped me get connected with the kids. Going to Gyero to paint brought me to where they lived but didn't necessarily help me build relationships. I think I may have said this before but the kids here really are confident. The first day I got out of the car they come running up to you saying, "Aunty, Aunty! What is your name?". And pretty much anytime I sat down there was someone messing with my hair or grabbing whatever I had in my hands. You get to know them pretty fast although that doesn't mean I could remember all their names. There were so many repeated or similar names. In my hut I had two Mercy
I got fairly close with some of the girls in my hut. It doesn't take much, though; if you spin them around a couple times they'll love you for life. There were a lot of strong personalities and energy in my group, which made for some interesting times, but we came out of it without major issues. With a group of about 15 middle school/junior high girls, I feel like that's an accomplishment. One of the girls from my group, Joy, had a collision the first day in morning exercises and cut her face. I cleaned it for her and we were buddies ever since. I'm sure she has parents but if I could take her home with me I would! Her face would light up every time she laughed and you couldn't help but smile with her. I made friends with a couple of the boy as well. Daweng taught me some soccer tricks which I failed miserably at. Everyone here is good at soccer. Even if they've never played before they pick it up fast. It's in their blood or something...same with dancing. These kids, and the adults too, all have incredible rhythm. The first night I stayed over they had some of the Aunties and Uncles (adult leaders) come up in front of the kids and dance to some songs. I was called up a couple times, one where it was just me and older Nigerian woman dancing. Originally it made me a little nervous to get up there but once you started dancing you were having to much fun to even worry about it. I tried to take some pictures at camp but it was a struggle for a couple reasons. First, I just don't care much for taking pictures. Second, if you take out a camera you will have kids all over you trying to take the camera or asking you to "snap" them.
Each hut split up everyday to discuss the Bible lesson that one of the Uncles had given in the morning. I really liked the way they had the lessons progress. There were ones about forgiveness or being a faithful servant. Each day kind of set the stage for today's final Bible lesson which was geared toward salvation. A fair amount of kids accepted Christ today, and I truly believe that most understood and meant it. A lot of these kids come from difficult backgrounds and none of them have cushy lives. Some have lost their parents from sickness and others have 3 sets of torn clothing. It's no doubt God's hand in their lives that they aren't given over to the anger and hardness that would come so easily with their situations.
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