The trip was strenuous yet enjoyable. It took four full days
for us to travel from various parts of America to Chimala, Tanzania. I thought
it was very interesting that of the seven nursing students we are all from
different states. It’s amazing how people can come from across the US and
gather together to work toward the same mission. The hospital is in the shape
of a square a full square. There are many different wards including pediatrics
(watoto), male, female, minor theatre (minor surgery), major theatre (major
surgery), and my mind is blanking on whether or not there are more wards. The
days are long and I am exhausted by the time I get back to the house. In the
middle of the hospital square is a hut, where many people stay throughout the
day, both patients and families.
We arrive at the hospital every morning at 730. I have come
to love the culture of the Africans. Time is not of the essence, unless it is
in regards to worship. At 730 sharp, everyone from the hospital, who is able,
joins at the hut and has a short devo. We begin with prayer (tu ombe) and then
sing in Swahili, the language that the majority of the people in this community
speak. There is a short devo, with a translator for us Americans. Then we sing
some more, pray, and split up to various parts of the hospital to make rounds.
I have been in peds the last two days. It is very different
from an American hospital. The role of the nurse is something I am still trying
to understand. The family is responsible for changing the sheets, feeding the
patient, bathing the patient, which I have learned to do as a nurse. Here, the
nurse is more like a doctor. I love the environment and the trust that we are
given. Our responsibility is more than I would have ever expected. From little
things such as sitting and smiling at patients and making sick children laugh
to injecting shot after shot after shot, mixing medications, assisting with a
spinal tap, pulling up drugs that are used for anesthesia, to many other
activities that a nurse in America would not be qualified to do. We have the
training, and I feel comfortable in this position.
But, there is also the reality of life and death. Yesterday
we had two deaths in the peds unit alone. People are very sick here. The lack
of clean water, food, and the deadly effects of diarrhea and vomiting is
something that Americans do not have to deal with. There are resources
available to fix those problems. But here, in Africa, these are the things that
cause death. And it happens so fast. The women were in the ward with the
children and one lady motioned me over. The language barrier is extremely
frustrating but we do all that we can and we are learning fast. I would point
to one thing, she would shake her head, and this would continue for five, ten,
fifteen things until we finally got the right thing. She was laughing at me,
and finally I got everything done and checked her baby who was extremely
tachypneic. I immediately sought more assistance, and sister Janice began
working on the child. I went on to work with other sick kids and then I heard a
scream from across the room. The mother got up and moved away from the bed.
(The entire ward is one large room) I finished what I was doing and then went
over and sat on the bench with the mother. She just clung to my arms and my
head and was holding on so tight. We sat there and wept together for who knows
how long. Our laps were both wet from tears, and when I had enough strength to
talk I asked her if I could tu ombe (pray) she nodded and said (endio) which
means yes. I prayed in English, which she did not understand, but when I said
amen she said asante which means thank you. As much as I wanted to stay, I
needed to continue working with other children.
Another difference with the culture and medical work is that
in the one large room of pediatrics, and im sure other wards, when a person
dies they cover them with blankets and leave them on the bed until the family
takes them away. Then, the mother took the child, wrapped her on her back with
a kitenge and went home. And this was the first time my heart broke. And there
are many more to come. We have experienced four deaths in the last two days,
and each time, my heart mourns, breaks, and I feel like I leave a piece of me
with each family that I have worked with.
Despite the sad times, there are many good stories too. On
my first day we had 26 children, and about half of them have been discharged
home. I have seen children not be able to breath one day, and be completely
better the next day. I have given many medications and seen improvements.
And my favorite part is making people smile. The women just
laugh every time I try to communicate with them. They attempt to speak to me in
Swahili and thinks its so hilarious when I shrug my shoulders and giggle.
Oh! And today I whipped out some nailpolish for the
mommies…. So with about three people, in about a minutes time, there were fifty
or so women waiting to get their nails painted. For about an hour I sat and
painted and then some of the other girls had finished in their ward and came to
join me. Thank goodness or I would have been there all night long! They LOVED
LOVED LOVED the nailpolish. It was such a wonderful feeling to be able to make
people smile and just see their eyes light up. Hands were flashing in our faces,
people were begging us to take pictures with them. It was a good way to end the
day, and by end the day I mean head back to the house for dinner before we go
back for rounds. For now, I need to go set the table because I am on dinner
duty.
Usiku mwema (Goodnight)
Please continue to pray for us all, the team, the sick, the
mourning, the families, and for our hands to do the work of the Lord. To God be
the glory.
Meghan
(as the Africans say MEEGIN)
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