Last weekend was spent with my very best friend here, who happens to also be my roommate. Shadee and I went to every tourist shop in the whole of Cape Coast to find souvenirs for her family and then enjoyed lunch in town. Sad to admit that a lot of our daily conversations happen to be based around food we are craving or miss from home. Then a lot of the time the Ghanaian version doesn't meet our expectations, such as my Big Bang milkshake from Oasis bar. When it comes time for me to do some personal shopping, I will definitely try to pull off some of Shadee's amazing bargaining techniques! She has it down quite well:)
During doctor rounds in the delivery suite, I learned that at postpartum, women can be discharged home as early as 6 hours post-delivery if there were no complications! Compare this to the normal standards in the U.S. of probably at least 2-3 days. The ward wasn't overly busy with births this week, unless they all happened during the time I spent off the ward... I have become the personal assistant to the unit. The girl who runs to the laboratory several times a day, the one who gathers supplies that are needed, and the one who escorts and waits with patients in ultrasound for several hours. It is hard not to complain because I am meant to be serving as a nurse and observing various procedures in the unit, yet I am thankful the staff are putting me to work and making me feel useful.
One patient I escorted had an order for an "URGENT" pelvic scan as she had a previous diagnosis of threatened abortion and was experiencing intense pain. I forgot I was in Ghana. We waited 1.5 hours before she even got called, learned she hadn't drank enough water to visualize the uterus, had to sit again, and then learned the head of the fetus was already engaged into the pelvis outlet and the cervical os was already slightly opened. She was only 14 weeks and 5 days gestation and thus received the final news that spontaneous abortion was inevitable. The thing that made me irritated was the lack of efficiency in providing urgent service. In all we spent over 3 hours waiting! Not that being seen sooner would've drastically changed her outcome but seeing her suffer in the waiting area was horrible. At one point I noticed some fluid running down her leg. I notified the staff but nobody seemed to care. They just made her sit there. I kept asking her questions concerning her health and everyone she answered "yes". That's when I determined she literally had no idea what I was saying and knew no English. I found someone to translate for me so I could at least get a few questions answered. I asked the ward nurse after our return to please go check on her as there was a clear barrier in our communication and I felt her condition was deteriorating. Lets just say I never saw anything be done. She was forced to sit in a saturated gown and clearly was not in a condition to walk back to the unit so I went for a wheelchair to transport her back myself. I learned the following day that she had delivered the remains of a fetus that night.
There were three c-sections scheduled for one morning however the operating room nurse was someone different then before and clearly not so keen on allowing volunteers to enter. There was no chance in me or anyone else stepping foot through those doors to even catch a glimpse of the procedure. In fact, I did get permission from the L&D nurse to go for the baby but as soon as I entered it was "who allowed you to come? who are you to think you can just come in? you oburonis... blah blah blah" In the end I actually got kicked out and had to wait outside, even though I am technically a qualified nurse and have seen previous c-sections. I then asked about me caring for the baby and basically only was allowed to measure the length and head circumference then fill out the birth card. Ironically, I was the one who reminded the nurse about checking the blood sugar, obtaining cotton and tape, etc. Then the baby was crying (like most do after they are born) but the RN thought he was hungry and tried giving 5% dextrose with a syringe. It didn't work so she called the OB/GYN unit and transferred the baby so they wouldn't have to listen to him and someone else would! I helped carry bags and saw where he would be left to lay: a small nook with five carts and clearly no personal attention. I did have the honor to meet the first father I have seen attend the birth of his child (well at least be on the hospital grounds). The baby was shown to him through the double doors. I talked to him briefly about naming in which he will be called Kwaku for Wednesday born and further be given an English name at a ceremony in a months time. He actually asked if I had any suggestions for the name which took me by surprise!
This whole situation in not being able to attend the cesarean really frustrated myself along with the pre-med volunteers who were also in the ward at the time. I overheard the doctor talking that volunteers just show up expecting to be allowed to see anything and do whatever but who is he to give permission to just anyone for a private thing. He understands qualified RN's or advanced medical students, but as for pre-med, they have no place! It's a hard position where I know how to do more than I am being allowed to do yet am still being allowed to do more than others. It's kind of like, what's the purpose in being here if we won't be allowed to practice skills or observe procedures to learn more in depth. Despite this situation, I am incredibly thankful for what I have been able to observe and participate in. The cultural exposure is beneficial in itself.
The most rewarding time for my project is always medical outreach. I thoroughly enjoyed my time at the leprosy camp this week. I did quite a few dressing changes, a lot of them being children since they are on holiday. We also have some new volunteers so it was my job to teach them the proper way to clean and dress a wound as well as show them the way to and from camp using the taxis and tro-tros. The kids' wounds are always open and usually has at least one fly on it which is always disturbing. Majua's legs are almost completely healed and only require basic cleaning to get the dirt off. I spent some extra time just playing with the children. Doris is one little girl who we instantly formed a connection together. I must of held her for an hour straight! When I bent over so she'd hang upside down, she was actually scared and clung even tighter to my shirt. I always enjoy her presence as she has an endless smile with her front missing teeth. Other kids gathered as the morning went on. Some playing jump rope, others with a soccer ball, one with a blow up glove as a balloon, and then those who only want to share a juice box and some biscuits.
As I may have mentioned before, Ghana's president Mr. John Evans Atta Mills died suddenly at the end of July. The traditional three days of mourning leading up to the funeral has consumed the nation. So much that basically no patients got the attention they needed or deserved as all the staff sat hovered around the television set for hours watching the ceremony. It is quite the honor to be here and witness the nations support for his service and offering condolences to his family. Accra has Ghanaian flags lining the streets, red and black ribbon along fences, on cars, and being sold as fashion items. Almost everyone walking down the street was wearing a black dress with red embellishment. Billboards and the front page of every newspaper had his image plastered on it with a heartwarming message. The ceremony was live on basically every radio station and people abandoned their shops to gather around the tv. You can really tell the nation is devastated by his loss.
I took Thursday and Friday off work to travel with Shadee to Accra for her departure. It was so nice to spend the last night together! After traveling around the city, we both agreed we are thankful our work placement and accommodation were not in such a developed area. It is so busy with people and traffic and everything costs so much more. We went out for the night to the Accra Mall which literally blew my mind. It didn't feel like Africa at all, just a really modern and westernized shopping mall. It was the oddest feeling to be in such a place while at the same time looking out the window and seeing women selling stuff, tro tros pass, and the occasional beggar. The mall had a cinema, food court, and clothing stores. There was also a supermarket where you could actually buy fresh fruit and vegetables, bakery goods, meat, cheese, milk, yogurt, cereal, pasta, chips, alcohol, candy... anything and everything we miss from home. I was very surprised and will likely plan a return trip! We ate dinner in a luxurious restaurant. Definitely felt like an intimate setting and we were out of place by the way we casually dressed, but we enjoyed an amazing dinner and ate everything as it tasted so good! We also got a brownie for dessert and if you know me, I was in heaven:) Get this: the bathroom had toilets that you could actually flush the paper down the drain (most plumbing in Ghana isn't strong enough so you have to dispose the toilet paper in a can beside the bowl), running water with soap to wash your hands, and a heated dryer for your hands! Oh the common things for us that I miss. The funny thing is while I was waiting, a lady looked at the dryer and looked at me asking if she should press the green button!
We had a fun taxi ride back to the Pink Hostel, where we were staying for the night. All I can say is good thing we got some directions before we left. Our taxi driver clearly stated he knew where we were going. It wasn't until we pulled up outside a bank, which was on the way, and he said "we are here" that we looked at each other and started laughing. Explaining again where we needed to go, he drove in reverse to a side road and drove a bit further, stopped and said "we are here". At this point Shadee said, "no the PINK HOSTEL! Do you know it?" He said maybe I should ask. He found a security man who pointed us in the right direction, which ended up to be just around the corner. The driver then said "AH! We are here! The Pink Hostel!" He then just drove off in the distant at no second thought!
Sunday was my designated laundry day for the week. I can say it has become just a normal part of my life here to prepare to wash by fetching water from the outside well and set up my three basins. Del and Mel always insist on coming to help wash. It is never seen as a chore to them. We then spent the afternoon together. Del took over my camera which made me quite nervous but it turns out she snapped some good pictures. They both styled my hair and took turns wearing my glasses which was adorable! Mel went and bathed then came running out naked to sit on my lap so she didn't miss anything. It was so enjoyable just to watch them have time being kids. Their mother Betty mentioned to me that she wants to send Del home to the U.S.A. when I go. Del even mentioned it herself that she would come with me so she could have a better life. Very sad to hear coming from a child.
"God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both of their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives. And God is with us if we are with them!
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