Habari Yako!
I apologize it has been a while via telephone...internet...anything! My cell phone died on Tuesday and the Western Province did not have any power for the better part of the week. I breezed through some of my other blogs and was upset that they all sounded so doom and gloom. I do have my moments (actually a lot of them), but overall I know I am gaining experience, knowledge, perspective, etc. It still kills me that I can't contribute more (whether it be monetary or not), but I am doing the best I can. My KiSwahili vocabulary has improved three-fold but I am still on the JV team. I have still been keeping a journal diligently, so I can either write something when I return, or give you more later.
Let's see.....
This week I had to stitch a girls face who split her lip open after a spill. I have never stitched before and did a pretty poor job on mom's porch cushions, so I was a little apprehensive. The poor little eight year old is probably still numb from all the Lidocaine I injected her with, and I am afraid I may have caused a cosmetic catastrophe. I had to straddle the poor soul as her daddy held her arms and head. She comes back on Monday to get them removed....we will see how I did? YIKES!
Two weeks ago, I went home with Irene to her family's house about a 1/2 hour boda boda ride away. Her mom gave me a live chicken as a customary gift (I do have a picture documenting my face of appreciation/terror). I didn't know whether to name it, put a collar on it, or what? We recently had chicken for dinner and I haven't seen Henry lately : (
That boy is alive and well (thank goodness) I saw his schoolmate on the street and asked how he was feeling and he said, "All better!"
Poor little Alexi has malaria again. I cycled to the chemist who surprisingly is open on the weekend to get him some quinine and their version of tylenol. No sooner did I get it in him, he yacked all over the floor. You don't want to know how vomit is cleaned in the Bush....let's just say I had a flashback to elementary school when I saw the janitor dumping powder on a pile of barf. They don't like it when I pick him up and cuddle him (even though he is 5) because they say he is not a baby. It kills me not to be able to give him some tlc, because he is so sick.
I can't remember if I have mentioned my colleague Johnson or not. He's a magnificient person with a heart of gold. Not only does he support me through all my minor mental breakdowns, but he is financially supporting his family of ten (mom, dad, brothers, sisters, etc.) with food, school bills, etc. When I hear him talk about his struggles, I am so humbled because ALL of my problems that I have and have ever had pale in comparison. I am not sure how he stays so positive and level headed all the time.
He is pretty much my sole friend here, aside from Irene and Isaac because I am still not allowed to leave the house without someone. Coming to this little internet cafe in Nambale with Irene shopping nearby is pretty much the only alone time I get. I have not been able to access my emails and apologize that I can't respond to everyone ( Thank you Jo Jo and Sinead, I miss you dearly!). I sometimes can get on facebook (M+ D you should probably get one), and skype is way out of this areas league.
I should probably wrap things up because I think Irene is coming soon but I can't even express to you how much I miss everyone. I have noticed myself changing in more ways then I thought, but I am still the same Kyle. It's difficult to stifle some of my sense of humor sometimes...I am not sure how it would be received. The program director of WorldCorps is looking to place me in a hospital or a more English speaking area. In the meantime, I will be able to hang in there and hopefully not cause any poor child harm. Prescribing and treatment has become a lot more routine because it's a lot of the same diseases with the same drugs (just different weights).
Kenyans love American music and since the radio is always on in my house, it is my link back to Uncle Sam. They play the same 12 songs over and over again, a curious mix of Celine Dion, 98 degrees, Toto, Shania Twain, and some other one hit wonders from the 60's and 70's. Every time I hear the song "Red, Red, Wine" I think of how wonderful it would be to have an ice cold brew. Miss you all oodles and hope to chat soon!
Cheers,
Kyle
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
I MISS YOU from Nambale!
Dear All,
Thank you so much for your kind words and posts, it's just what I needed right now! I went to Busia town today (2+ hours of commuting) and the internet cafe did not have network. For the last week + my cellphone hasn't had network either because the rainy season has started. The rainy season, in the Western Province, literally means that it rains everyday like clockwork at 4pm. It's been pretty difficult to keep my spirits up of late. I have learned to speak some more Kiswahili, but what I have come to learn is that the villagers don't even speak that. There are 42 different tribes in Kenya, which means 42 different mother tongues (completely different languages basically). So I am pretty much at a loss, language-wise. As a practitioner (and one of the biggest reasons I wanted to do this trip in the first place) it absolutely essential to be able to communicate and understand your patients. I am unable to perform patient teaching due to the language barrier, which absolutely kills me! Work goes by relatively quickly because there is never a shortage of patients ( I see an average of 35-40/day). I am in charge of the consulation room which is where patients triage in, I ask them what's wrong (going through my list of symptoms in Kiswahili), I do a brief examination and either send them to the lab for testing, refer them, or write prescriptions right on scene. In the US, RNs do not have prescription rights, which explains why I was really nervous to start doing that in the first place. I have pretty much gotten the hang of malaria, typhoid, dysentary, septic wounds, but everytime a new rash or fungal infection comes in, I am always perplexed. There is no such thing as worrying about overprescribing antibiotics...painkillers, etc. I write for Amoxycillin like candy and all the while am worried that I am creating a village worth of children that will have penecillin resistance. Some patients have really touched me, and other have brought me to tears of sadness and anger. It must be circumcision season right now, because I have had more than a dozen patients coming in with septic wounds of the genitals. I am assuming that they are all coming from the same place and that the place they are coming from are not using sterile instruments. It breaks my heart to think that these little 15 y/o boys could be contracting HIV (among other things) all because I place is not sterilizing their instruments. I notified management, but that is all my language skills will permit me to do. Almost half of my patients come in, and I write for prescriptions that the dispensary doesn't carry. Most of the people don't have money to pay for the drugs themselves and I am pretty sure they just do without. I hate letting them leave untreated especially when I know it is bad. One girl, I actually took via motorbike by myself to the hospital to get IV antibiotics and a solid sterile dressing. She had been walking around for over a month with a septic wound to the bone. She was retarded and had sickle cell, and her mother had pretty much abandoned her. She was also 18y/o , 1 year older than the average person with sickle cell in this area lives. When I mentioned to the staff my plan for her, they kind of looked at me like, why bother? There was no way I was going to let this poor girl suffer in pain while her leg turned gangrenous and body got septic shock. This is just 1 of 897358312758 patients that could benefit from getting further treatment, but I lack the money, the resources, and the language skills to really be able to do so.
The afterwork hours I dread...they are lonely, quiet, dark and limiting. While I and I do speak English when I speak to them, they (and the rest of the extended family) speak in their mother-tongue of which I can understand nothing. It gets dark almost an hour after I get home from work, and I have a few flashlights and book lights that I brought to keep the whole house very dimly lit. Kenyans have excellent vision and night vision, two things I do not! I and I will not let me out of the house past dark, because "it is not safe and I had to argue once when I was running to the latrine that I REALLY REALLY needed out! I have adapted to the home life and survival skills as much as I can, but absolutely EVERYTHING is foreign. I finally made a friend at work (his name is JO! hahaha, I must like Jo's!)
I have to run because time is limited and it is going to rain soon. I wish I had time to write more, or better yet, see you all in person. I am not so sure if this trip is going to be 4 months anymore, but I will be sure to keep you all posted. I have been diligently writing in my journal everyday and will give you all more updates later.
Miss everyone so much and will talk to you asap!
Hugs and Kisses,
Kyle
Thank you so much for your kind words and posts, it's just what I needed right now! I went to Busia town today (2+ hours of commuting) and the internet cafe did not have network. For the last week + my cellphone hasn't had network either because the rainy season has started. The rainy season, in the Western Province, literally means that it rains everyday like clockwork at 4pm. It's been pretty difficult to keep my spirits up of late. I have learned to speak some more Kiswahili, but what I have come to learn is that the villagers don't even speak that. There are 42 different tribes in Kenya, which means 42 different mother tongues (completely different languages basically). So I am pretty much at a loss, language-wise. As a practitioner (and one of the biggest reasons I wanted to do this trip in the first place) it absolutely essential to be able to communicate and understand your patients. I am unable to perform patient teaching due to the language barrier, which absolutely kills me! Work goes by relatively quickly because there is never a shortage of patients ( I see an average of 35-40/day). I am in charge of the consulation room which is where patients triage in, I ask them what's wrong (going through my list of symptoms in Kiswahili), I do a brief examination and either send them to the lab for testing, refer them, or write prescriptions right on scene. In the US, RNs do not have prescription rights, which explains why I was really nervous to start doing that in the first place. I have pretty much gotten the hang of malaria, typhoid, dysentary, septic wounds, but everytime a new rash or fungal infection comes in, I am always perplexed. There is no such thing as worrying about overprescribing antibiotics...painkillers, etc. I write for Amoxycillin like candy and all the while am worried that I am creating a village worth of children that will have penecillin resistance. Some patients have really touched me, and other have brought me to tears of sadness and anger. It must be circumcision season right now, because I have had more than a dozen patients coming in with septic wounds of the genitals. I am assuming that they are all coming from the same place and that the place they are coming from are not using sterile instruments. It breaks my heart to think that these little 15 y/o boys could be contracting HIV (among other things) all because I place is not sterilizing their instruments. I notified management, but that is all my language skills will permit me to do. Almost half of my patients come in, and I write for prescriptions that the dispensary doesn't carry. Most of the people don't have money to pay for the drugs themselves and I am pretty sure they just do without. I hate letting them leave untreated especially when I know it is bad. One girl, I actually took via motorbike by myself to the hospital to get IV antibiotics and a solid sterile dressing. She had been walking around for over a month with a septic wound to the bone. She was retarded and had sickle cell, and her mother had pretty much abandoned her. She was also 18y/o , 1 year older than the average person with sickle cell in this area lives. When I mentioned to the staff my plan for her, they kind of looked at me like, why bother? There was no way I was going to let this poor girl suffer in pain while her leg turned gangrenous and body got septic shock. This is just 1 of 897358312758 patients that could benefit from getting further treatment, but I lack the money, the resources, and the language skills to really be able to do so.
The afterwork hours I dread...they are lonely, quiet, dark and limiting. While I and I do speak English when I speak to them, they (and the rest of the extended family) speak in their mother-tongue of which I can understand nothing. It gets dark almost an hour after I get home from work, and I have a few flashlights and book lights that I brought to keep the whole house very dimly lit. Kenyans have excellent vision and night vision, two things I do not! I and I will not let me out of the house past dark, because "it is not safe and I had to argue once when I was running to the latrine that I REALLY REALLY needed out! I have adapted to the home life and survival skills as much as I can, but absolutely EVERYTHING is foreign. I finally made a friend at work (his name is JO! hahaha, I must like Jo's!)
I have to run because time is limited and it is going to rain soon. I wish I had time to write more, or better yet, see you all in person. I am not so sure if this trip is going to be 4 months anymore, but I will be sure to keep you all posted. I have been diligently writing in my journal everyday and will give you all more updates later.
Miss everyone so much and will talk to you asap!
Hugs and Kisses,
Kyle
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