Some of my co-workers Alamean, Musa, and Joseph.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
You say "Po-ta-to", I say "Pa-tah-to"
One of the biggest challenges I have encountered working at the hospital is deciphering the patient's medical complaints. Let's just say that obtaining an accurate history is next to impossible because the people here have a totally different concept of disease. For example, I would say that 95% of the people I see state that they have "burning in the urine." At first I thought it was a glitch in communication with my translator, but after hearing the complaint on average 50 times a day, I started to get suspicious. In addition, when I have had patients that speak English they say distinctively in English "I have burning in my urine." Even the mothers of 9-month old children look me straight in the eye and state that their babies have "burning in his/her urine." This lead me to have two large concerns: is there a urinary tract infection epidemic here and why hasn't my nephew of the same age gained as vast of a vocabulary yet? Dr. Tom has assured me that UTIs are not running rampant in the Nuba Mountains and confessed that even he is unsure what to make of the compliant. I will have to discuss the latter concern with my brother and sister-in-law via skype or perhaps directly call child services because they clearly are not taking this parenting role very seriously. It doesn't help that the follow-up complaint is usually "I have hotness in my body." One might conclude that all the patients have hemorrhoids, ulcers, and horrible sunburns, but being the astute clinician that I am, I have discovered that they are not all suffering from such inflictions simultaneously.
Another barrier to getting to the bottom of a patient's problem is their warped sense of time and convoluted stories. I have learned that one can not trust a patient's concept of time when they honestly have no idea how old they are. This is probably every American women's dream, to just pick a ball park age, but it makes getting a history that much more difficult Allow me to reenact:
Patient (who appears to be in her late forties but claims to be 31 years old): "I have burning in my urine, headache, joint pain, and back pain"
Me: "Okay. For how long?" (in perfect Arabic)
Patient: "I have hotness in my stomach, hotness on the bottom of my feet, and my left eye waters during the night when the hotness reaches my head."
Me: "For how long?" (again, using impeccable Arabic)
Patient: "A long time."
Me: "How many weeks, months, years?"
Patient: "15 years."
In my training as a PA I have yet to come across a disease entity that fits that description and has no findings on physical exam.
Another problem is that the patients tend to be rather tricky and slip in the legitimate compliant at the end of all the temperature sensitive ailments. A patient whose hotness throughout the body is "so strong" will casually reply that they have had vaginal bleeding for 2 months or say they have some swelling on their thigh which turns out to be an abscess with over a liter of pus inside. I guess all that heat fully encompasses the patient's body and consequently consumes all of their other physical problems.
Having been here now for 3 months, I have gotten a better handle on interpreting their medical complaints and making a proper diagnosis, but it has not been an easy path. I must say that it is quite fitting that here in Gidel the sun is amazingly strong, beating down on your entire body, and that the "roads" around here are twisting paths of rocky dirt.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Third Time's A Charm
Fasten your seat belts, hold on to your hats, and secure your wigs because the following is a doozy of a ride.
In the videos below you will witness first hand the entire gamut of human emotions associated with SUCCESSFULLY killing a chicken.
WARNING: if you are a chicken lover please refrain from watching the videos but if you like chicken soup please cut and paste the following links.
I will have to admit that one of my previous entries may have insinuated that killing a chicken was a slightly less fear inducing activity, but there is no hiding the raw emotion of terror via video.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Burger Night
Unfortunately, with limited supplies and limited access to obtain new supplies, it can start to feel like you are living in the movie Groundhog Day when you walk into the kitchen for meals. Therefore, among the ex-pat staff, we try to think of new ways to prepare the food that is available to us. I came up with the idea of hamburgers, since I walk past a baker's dozen of cows pretty much everyday. I did not anticipate the idea to be all that unique considering they eat beef all the time here; I was gravely mistaken. Not only had no one actually tasted a juicy burger, but they did not even know what a hamburger was. Hence, project burger night was put into effect. We got some fresh meat at the Saturday market down the street and began our preparations. To obtain the proper consistency, we used a grinder attached to the foundation of the kitchen table. This means that you have to bend over like a hunchback or squat on the floor rotating a metal handle using sheer muscle power. I assure you there was not a dry armpit in site. Next, I chopped up garlic and onions for seasoning and mixed it in with the meat. Dora was on fry duty and cut up all the potatoes and cooked them in oil. To top off the American burger feast we had tomato salad. Dr. Tom contributed with a bottle of mustard he had received from a friend at another NGO in the area.
Warning: cover your keyboards before continuing on...heavy salivation is likely to be induced.
Warning: cover your keyboards before continuing on...heavy salivation is likely to be induced.
Francis's first hamburger bite. He is clearly mesmerized by the flavors.
Phillip ready to sink his teeth into some meat.
Josephine says, "washing hair takes the back seat when amidst the air is a burger treat."
We helped Darius dress his burger right.
Julius proves to be another satisfied customer.
Yusef has now perfected the two hand "i'm lovin' it" burger pose.
Dr. Tom saluting gluten-free burgers
the full crew with their bellies filled
With the drastic success of burger night among the ex-pat crew, I have decided to plan another burger night for the locals who have also been deprived of hunks of cow hugged by two buns. I definitely got burger fever because I also decided that I should open up my own hamburger hut at the top of the street. If this dream because a reality I will try to follow the FDA serving size guidelines. After all, I don't want to single handedly be responsible for an obesity epidemic in the middle of central Sudan.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Photo Montage #1
Uploading pictures takes forever because the internet connection is rather slow. It has also been difficult to take a lot of photos because my luggage was lost that contained the charger for my camera, which is now powerless. To top it all off, my computer was stolen several weeks ago. Against all odds and to satisfy the cries of my 23 followers, here is the first installment of a purely photo blog....
welcome to Gidel from Tyler & I
the full theater team ready for some serious cutting action
new home sweet new home
the driveway and parking spots out front
people beginning to line up for outpatient clinic
my outpatient office to see patients
sudanese sandwich
Saturday, February 5, 2011
So what do you do in the middle of nowhere?
It's not exactly an exaggeration to say that working at the hospital consumes the vast majority of my time and energy. Nor is it a far fetched statement to say that this area is slightly lacking in the realm of live entertainment. But, I am a firm believer of making your own fun. So here is a list of some of my new favorite hobbies while living in Gidel.
1. Slaughtering animals
Do not be alarmed, I have not developed a sadistic personality disorder; I am simply embracing the inner Nebraskan farm girl in me. (Although I've never been to that state and I am pretty sure sledding in a cow pasture as a child does not constitute being a farm girl) In any event, killing chickens, goats, and cows is a normal occurrence here and I have become intrigued by it. I was taught step-by-step how to kill a chicken and when it was my turn I failed to complete the task. I had perfect form: my right foot on the wings, my left holding down the legs, its' head in my left hand and I de-plucked neck for optimum slicing, but then the chicken got squirmy. Apparently she was not too happy about having a knife to her jugular. The chicken's movements made me nervous and I lost my cool. So, I ended up handing over the task to a true professional (my ex-pat friend Dora). As of now I am 0-1 for making chicken dinner from scratch.
2. Learning a new language
The primary languages spoken in this area are Arabic and various tribal languages. I am trying to learn Arabic which is by no means an easy task. For example, the word "where" is pronounced exactly like "when." I mean, really? One of the biggest handicaps is not being able to visualize properly what you are trying to say. My usual plan of attack is trying to write the words phonetically in English characters as an aid in memorization. All of the national staff has been really helpful and I have made some progress, but I have a long way to go! So far I have mastered essential sayings such as, "I am going to pee" and "dance party today."
Most of the national staff are from the Tira tribe and they try to teach me that language as well. My American brain cannot learn both Tira and Arabic at once. The only word I confidently use in Tira is diarrhea. I cannot even say "I have diarrhea." Simply just the word diarrhea. I use it in many expected scenarios. If, for example, I have felt sick I will grab my stomach and say "gaucha." or if something smells horrible on the wards I will plug my nose while saying "gaucha.". There are other times, I will admit, I just say it completely out of context; it does roll off the tongue quite nicely. I believe knowing one word instills a belief in my colleagues that I am still trying to learn their tribal language and it is important for them to hear me say it. There is a chance they might catch on a few months from now when my Tira vocabulary has not grown. I am confident my brother would be proud of the word I have chosen to utilize, considering that instead of saying "eeny, meeny, miny, moe" as children to determine the dreaded "it" we recited "ink, stink, poop, fart, out."
3. Food preparation
Let me start off by saying that Sudan is the mecca of sorghum, which means living here is a glutard's paradise. They prepare medida often, which is a sorghum based porridge. (Yes, think Goldielocks) They even make marisa, which is a gluten-free beer. Overall, the food here has been really good. The cooks' staples are beans, rice, and kale. Eggplant pops in sometimes, as well as homemade salsa. Cassava is a popular treat, which is prepared similar to a potato. I have started to become an iron chef myself with the small kerosene burner and help often in preparation of various dishes; although I have had my share of trouble. Often, or perhaps always is a more accurate term, I have been forced to call in reinforcements for the extinguishing of the fire. I spent one afternoon sitting in front of a roaring kerosene torch waiting for a fellow hungry ex-pat to stumble in. They walked in, long after what I had prepared was eaten, to a solitary kerosene burner strategically moved away from all flammable items in the kitchen. They say the wicks were too long; I say we should get an NYFD volunteer for the year. In any event, I was quite grateful (again) to stop inhaling the fumes and now secretly only use the kerosene burner when I know someone is around to put it out.
1. Slaughtering animals
Do not be alarmed, I have not developed a sadistic personality disorder; I am simply embracing the inner Nebraskan farm girl in me. (Although I've never been to that state and I am pretty sure sledding in a cow pasture as a child does not constitute being a farm girl) In any event, killing chickens, goats, and cows is a normal occurrence here and I have become intrigued by it. I was taught step-by-step how to kill a chicken and when it was my turn I failed to complete the task. I had perfect form: my right foot on the wings, my left holding down the legs, its' head in my left hand and I de-plucked neck for optimum slicing, but then the chicken got squirmy. Apparently she was not too happy about having a knife to her jugular. The chicken's movements made me nervous and I lost my cool. So, I ended up handing over the task to a true professional (my ex-pat friend Dora). As of now I am 0-1 for making chicken dinner from scratch.
2. Learning a new language
The primary languages spoken in this area are Arabic and various tribal languages. I am trying to learn Arabic which is by no means an easy task. For example, the word "where" is pronounced exactly like "when." I mean, really? One of the biggest handicaps is not being able to visualize properly what you are trying to say. My usual plan of attack is trying to write the words phonetically in English characters as an aid in memorization. All of the national staff has been really helpful and I have made some progress, but I have a long way to go! So far I have mastered essential sayings such as, "I am going to pee" and "dance party today."
Most of the national staff are from the Tira tribe and they try to teach me that language as well. My American brain cannot learn both Tira and Arabic at once. The only word I confidently use in Tira is diarrhea. I cannot even say "I have diarrhea." Simply just the word diarrhea. I use it in many expected scenarios. If, for example, I have felt sick I will grab my stomach and say "gaucha." or if something smells horrible on the wards I will plug my nose while saying "gaucha.". There are other times, I will admit, I just say it completely out of context; it does roll off the tongue quite nicely. I believe knowing one word instills a belief in my colleagues that I am still trying to learn their tribal language and it is important for them to hear me say it. There is a chance they might catch on a few months from now when my Tira vocabulary has not grown. I am confident my brother would be proud of the word I have chosen to utilize, considering that instead of saying "eeny, meeny, miny, moe" as children to determine the dreaded "it" we recited "ink, stink, poop, fart, out."
3. Food preparation
Let me start off by saying that Sudan is the mecca of sorghum, which means living here is a glutard's paradise. They prepare medida often, which is a sorghum based porridge. (Yes, think Goldielocks) They even make marisa, which is a gluten-free beer. Overall, the food here has been really good. The cooks' staples are beans, rice, and kale. Eggplant pops in sometimes, as well as homemade salsa. Cassava is a popular treat, which is prepared similar to a potato. I have started to become an iron chef myself with the small kerosene burner and help often in preparation of various dishes; although I have had my share of trouble. Often, or perhaps always is a more accurate term, I have been forced to call in reinforcements for the extinguishing of the fire. I spent one afternoon sitting in front of a roaring kerosene torch waiting for a fellow hungry ex-pat to stumble in. They walked in, long after what I had prepared was eaten, to a solitary kerosene burner strategically moved away from all flammable items in the kitchen. They say the wicks were too long; I say we should get an NYFD volunteer for the year. In any event, I was quite grateful (again) to stop inhaling the fumes and now secretly only use the kerosene burner when I know someone is around to put it out.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Celebrating Nuba Style
It was a first to spend the holiday season in a warm climate and be away from my family. Not having to wear a winter coat while opening Christmas presents on 1 Thomas Drive was a plus, not seeing my family and friends was a big minus. Christmas here in the Nuba Mountains was about as action packed as I've seen it get in these parts. People started walking to Christmas mass at the wee hours of the morning. I woke up at 6am not because I was anxious to open presents underneath a nearby baobob tree, but because of the sounds of chanting and drumming. There were hundreds of people from various tribes walking to mass. I would like to compare this to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York with the Snoopy balloon omitted. The mass commenced with the bishop at 10AM and the sounds of praise continued well past that two hour celebration.
The highlight of the day was the tribal dance competitions. Representatives from various tribes put together a routine which they performed in front of the Bishop and about a thousand bystanders. Because we were considered part of the Bishop's entourage, we got front row seats to the event.
The highlight of the day was the tribal dance competitions. Representatives from various tribes put together a routine which they performed in front of the Bishop and about a thousand bystanders. Because we were considered part of the Bishop's entourage, we got front row seats to the event.
Not everyone was as lucky and they had to get creative in order to sneak a peek at the action.
The performances were extremely entertaining and we were also graced with the presence of many local village characters who liked to blow the instruments right in your face.
After watching the dancing and singing for many hours we retreated back to our compound, only a 5 minute walk away. We then enjoyed some goat and karadae wine that we had prepared the week prior. Some enjoyed a larger quantity than others...
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