May I Help You?

The Last One

Mon, 05 Dec 2011 10:33:24 -0500

Woof. Back in America is crazy. But more on that later, let me summarize the last days in Africa.

So on Monday, I presented my research, which was actually awesome. It was really satisfying to present my work that I am so passionate about to others that were at least marginally interested in it. I then got to listen to everyone else’s presentations. It’s absolutely fascinating how varied all of our research was. Monday night most of us stayed at the program house, where we cooked a big communal dinner, and watched Bridesmaids.

Tuesday we got up pretty early to debrief the entire program. Joy. Then we left to drive to St. Lucia where we would begin our two days of safari! We started with a boat safari in the estuary, and saw a bunch of Hippos and Crocodiles, and it actually got to be pretty boring, but it was nice just to relax with everyone. We all went out to dinner that night, which was again very relaxing.

Wednesday we got up at the ass crack of dawn to get to the game park. We got there as the sun was rising (which actually did look like the lion king) we started driving and BOOM ELEPHANTS. So after having an inner freakout at how amazing my life was, we kept going. Then all of a sudden there was a giraffe in the middle of the road. IN. THE. ROAD. Kept trundling along and there were impalas EVERYWHERE. And babies too the little cutesy things. Then we saw a mama warthog with a bunch of babies. So. Cute. Then some zebras posing along the road, a dung beetle, and some rhinos. Then we found some big mommy kitties. LIONS! So. Cool. Then more rhinos, another elephant, mor giraffes and some buffalo. Pretty big day. We all got some groceries and hung out before bed, but we all turned in early. We woke up crazy early again to go to the airport. It was so strange that it was my last day in Africa. First flight was fine, little puddle jump to Joberg. Second flight was fine. Of course I was sitting next to a guy who lives around the corner from my job in somerville and works for the Harvard School of Public Health. Of course. The third flight (after we all got sprayed down for yellow fever. lolz senegal) sucked. I decided to take an ambien (prescribed, calm down) but it just made me super woozy, and I spent the majority of the flight throwing up, but since it was Ambien induced, I barely remember it. Then I landed in DC and had the easiest customs of my life. I was practically skipping through the airport. I got a blueberry muffin, OJ and hot chocolate from Dunkies. Then I hopped on my flight to Boston. I flew over NYC and saw Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty which was really nice. Then I landed, and SPRINTED off the plane to the door where my parents were waiting. I pretty much flung myself at them. Lots of crying. Then we grabbed my suitcases and brought me home.

Being back in the US is weird. I keep having these feelings like I’m just dreaming and I’ll wake up back in Durban. It’s also SUCKED being home for the biggest consumer season of the year. I was bumming around downtown with my mom the other night and a woman said to her boyfriend “Well you can buy me THIS Gucci belt” and I nearly flipped a shit at both of them. It’s sucked, because I know many people don’t have the perspective to understand how sad this is. There are people living in South Africa in the direst of conditions, and here we are trying to find the perfect holiday gift.

I think, in retrospect, that as much as many aspects of this trip sucked and were extremely difficult to deal with, this was probably the biggest and most important learning experience of my life. I have a much broader perspective on the world, and I have gained so much knowledge about healthcare, and about myself. I am so grateful to my family and friends, and also all those that I worked with in South Africa for all of their help, love and understanding.

This is me signing off until the next adventure

Ngiabonga kakulu (thanks a lot) for reading!

I Can See The Finish Line

Mon, 28 Nov 2011 08:29:26 -0500

So I handed in all of my work today. Basically my oeuvre. 2 gigantic papers and a presentation later I’m done. Which means I’m academically done with South Africa. I’m sorry what? Didn’t I just get here? More postings about the safaris to come later. Stay tuned

The Last Couple of Days on the Ambulance and Cape town!

Tue, 22 Nov 2011 06:42:02 -0500

Wednesday was pretty slow, just a transfer, a mildly psychotic patient who was tweaking out from her ARVs, and a hypertensive. I was sad because it was my last day with my favorite crew.

Thursday was a vaginal bleeding, and 2 transfers. I took some photos, so I’ll try and put those up shortly.

But Friday was the beginning of my adventure to CAPE TOWN!!!

We got on the plane at the ungodly early hour of 7:45 (we woke up at 5) and after landing, took a bus to our hostel. Cape town has actual public transportation. Incredible. Our hostel was located in the middle of where all the clubs were, so it was bustling! Our hostel even had a popping bar in it. We hung around for a little bit, then walked down to the waterfront for the ferry to our tour of Robben Island. For those playing along at home, Robben Island is the famed apartheid political prison in South Africa. We took a fast ferry over there (think the P-town one). Our tour started with a 45 minute bus tour of the island, where I learned a bunch of history I didn’t know previously (It used to be a leper colony, people actually still live there, etc.). Then we had a guided tour of the maximum security prison by a former political prison (FYI the murderers and rapists were kept in medium security, they thought the political prisoners posed more of a threat). I saw Nelson Mandela’s cell. It was smaller than the kennels they had for the dogs. Then we got to explore the island for a little bit, saw the penguin colony they had there and then took the ferry back. We grabbed a bite, and then took a four hour nap (whoops). We went out to a couple clubs, but then I called it a night as I was feeling kind of sick (little did I know it would morph into a full blown head cold) and we had to wake up early in the morning for…..

TABLE MOUNTAIN

This is the mountain that overlooks the entire city. Half the time a cloud descends to cover the top but we picked a gorgeous day to take the theoretical 1 hour hike up. Theoretical, because a) I was sick b) it was wicked hot and I ran out of water and c) because I’m not as in shape as I thought. Thus it took about 2.5 hours. So 1 camelbak and a water bottle sweated out later, I hauled my ass to the top. And holy crap am I glad I did. The view was spectacular. Plus I was so incredibly proud of the fact that I had actually climbed all that way. It was all steep stone steps. Saw a bunch of lizards on the top (Thought of you Kim.) Then we took the cable car down, and took a nap, grabbed some AMAZING dinner, and had a fun night out. We woke up early for…..

CAPE OF GOOD HOPE

This tour consisted of a bunch of stuff. We started off just traveling around the cape point, seeing all of the beaches and mountains. Then we went to the Cape of Good Hope. I, Abby Tapper, stood on the tip of Africa. No big deal. I found a piece of blue seaglass too =). Then we went to the lighthouse that doesn’t actually work, and then to the PENGUIN COLONY. I pretty much giggled the entire way through, took way too many obsessive pictures, and spouted way too many penguin facts to my roommate. We went through table mountain national park, saw a bunch of ostriches, baboons, and a bonte bok! (big antelope)Then we hung out, went to the airport only to be told that our flight was delayed. We were two hours early for our flight. Which meant we were 4 hours early. Awesome. But there was good internet, so I got to see some important people’s faces =)

That brings us pretty much up to date. We’re all pretty stressed about writing (me included, despite my personal deadlines) up our projects. I’m ver ready to come home. Speaking of which, back to writing =P

This Post is Not for The Weak Stomached

Tue, 15 Nov 2011 14:54:22 -0500

DISCLAIMER: This post is very graphic. In my attempts to portray how life really is here, I am not leaving anything out. That being said however, if you are reading this with your kids, proof it before they see it. I will not lie. Friday was one of the hardest days of my life. I don’t want to jinx it or anything, but it was awful. Everything had to do with infants, and if you know me, you know that everything I do is all about the babies.

We started the day off with a call for a collapse. We showed up at this nice office building with a private company already there, but since it would be abandonment on our part to leave, we had to stay. This woman went from a Glasgow Coma Scale of 15-3 in about a minute prior to our showing up. For those non-emts among you, that’s going from normal to dead unresponsive. Her eyes were fixed and dilated, and she was also 3 months pregnant. They took 20 minutes trying to get a response out of her, then trying to contact her doctors. She was stable, breathing and heart rate wise, but they weren’t transporting her. It was really bothering to me. The next call was the hardest, and worst thing I have ever seen in my entire life.

We were called to a miscarriage. Now I was thinking just going to be a lot of blood, like a super heavy period or something. I was wrong. We showed up to this shit hole of a one room apartment above a butcher, with the woman lying on the floor in front of the door. I walked in and immediately noticed the blood. There was more blood than I had seen in my entire life. We started asking her what happened etc, when she said she was 4 months along. I hadn’t realized how formed a baby was until I saw it. There was a pile of bloody blankets and as they unwrapped it, they uncovered a 4 month old fetus, more blood, and all of the placenta and after birth. After the call, the paramedics I was with said my face lost all color when I saw it. I forced myself to look, but then I couldn’t anymore. My emotions couldn’t decide whether or not I should cry or vomit. I did neither. We cleaned her up, put the fetus in a warming blanket, and then in a garbage bag. We transported her to the hospital, and then left.

At 4 months, the fetus looks exactly like a baby, except smaller. It was just a little baby. The mother was so calm the entire time, absolutely no affect. One of the paramedics commented that he sees this a lot with desperate women who figure out that they can’t actually take care of a child, and do things like fall on purpose (which this woman did). I was completely sickened.

The last call of the day was another infant. This beautiful little baby had aspirated meconium (basically, giving her a bacterial infection that can be tricky to treat, also resulting in things like developmental difficulties), and was being transfered from the nice private hospital to the not-so-nice public one. Why would the parents want to do that? They didn’t have a choice. They couldn’t afford to pay anymore, so the hospital was basically kicking them out. I wanted to go down to billing and say I’d pay myself, but I knew that would accomplish nothing.

After all of that, I came home and couldn’t even force myself to go out. I just needed to process everything, call my mom and Sam and cry for a little while at how unjust the world is and how everything is taken out on the worlds youth.

Saturday was pretty relaxed, went to an outdoor market (Pair of pants with camels on them, new fake ray-bans, a scarf and earrings for R270 $33.75), and then Saturday night I was on a shift. It was apparently pretty tame for a saturday, with only 4 assaults, 1 labor call, 1 gastric pain, and 1 auto vs. pedestrian. I got to splint, board, collar patients, which was pretty cool. I even got to sleep a few hours on a stretcher mattress. The labor call was a 20 year old, which freaked me out mildly. Here was a girl sitting across from me who was my exact age, and she was having a baby. One of the assaults was another pregnant girl, only a year older than me, who had a restraining order on the babies father, which hadn’t stopped him from coming and getting into a fight with her, resulting in him kneeling on her abdomen. He was at the door of the ambulance when we were starting to treat her, and looked at me started to say “Ma’am I would never” and I just glared at him and held up my hand. If I could have beat his ass I would. The mother of your unborn child. Really? One of the other assaults was only wearing jeans. No underwear. The guy who was assaulted with him had just given his shoes and shirt to the guy who had stopped to help. The guy who stopped to help had said “I helped you, what can you give me”. The other guy said “I was just robbed…”. Crazy nights in South Africa, right? I got home by 6 AM Sunday, slept til noon, then bummed around for the rest of the day. I did get to see Tower Heist (thanks for the recommendation Mom and Dad!)

The past couple of days have been sloooooooow.

Monday I had an overdose, but it was definitely just a cry for help (she took ibuprofen). Then a D + V (diarrhea and vomiting) per usual, an MVA with 2 pretty much uninjured patients, and a transfer. I went to a cardio kickboxing class but had to stop after 1/2 an hour because I felt like dying.

Today was inSANELY slow. We didn’t get our first call until 10:30. It was “malaise” which actually meant TB, which I didn’t know until I was taking her BP and she said she had night sweats, weight loss, and coughing. Awesome. But she also was working in a legitimate sweatshop (sewing machines EVERYWHERE) so that may have caused the coughing as well. 2 hours later we had a guy that got his foot run over by a minibus. 2 hours after that we picked up a guy with a UTI from literally across the street at the clinic. 2 hours after that I was all set to go home when we got a call that was another potential miscarriage. Right before this one, I heard on the radio of an abandoned baby in a bathroom. In the words of Caroline King “oh for GOD’S SAKE”. I audibly uttered a “fuck!” and my heart rate jumped because I knew I couldn’t handle another scene like before. We pulled up to a fish and chips shop (I also got really afraid that I wasn’t going to be able to eat fish and chips ever again) walked upstairs and….she had a UTI. Thank the gods. And here we are now.

If there’s one thing any of this has taught me, it’s how thankful I am for my family and friends and boyfriend that supports me, that I am reasonably healthy and fit, and that I never have to live like any of my patients do.

My ISP is better than your ISP....

Sun, 13 Nov 2011 11:06:57 -0500

…But let’s not make comparisons.

So I have been having SO MUCH FUN on the ambulance it isn’t even funny. I’m even thinking of staying longer so I can see more cases (kidding parents and Sam). I’ll give you a quick summary of my days so far:

1st Tuesday: went to the control center. Freaking state of the art, very streamlined, very efficient. I was duly impressed.

Wednesday:first day on the ambulance! It was a little awkward (with all the crews I’ve been with) when I explained that I was looking into adherence to protocol, but once I made them comfortable that I was on their side, they relaxed. I immediately noticed on the ambulance that they had maybe a third of the resources that ambulances in the US do. I also noticed on my calls that there was also an extreme lack of shocks on the vehicles themselves. Had a bunch of calls and transports

Thursday: started with an MVA to which we were cancelled, then to a difficulty breathing, where the patient was DOA (dead on arrival), did some more sick and ill patients, one guy who the police had us take who was very obviously high, and then one of the medics I was with flipped on a woman for not getting TB treatment for her father and exposing her, the community and her children to the disease. Get it.

Friday: Had a meeting with my advisor, who’s a professor of emergency nursing at UKZN. Super helpful. Also found out that there’s someone doing PHD research on the topic I’m doing. Lolz. At least it’s getting studied though.

Weekend: pretty chill, went to some clubs, hung out, etc.

Monday: hung out with the youngest medic there (23. This is not a young persons profession). Picked up another woman who was pregnant and coughing and vomiting blood. Awesome. Grabbed a white guy who only spoke to me (awkward again) who had severe pain from hemorrhoid removal surgery. Even more awesome. Then I did another transport, where at the receiving hospital they played the “we-don’t-know-where-this-patient-came-from” game, and FINALLY we got him a bed.

Tuesday: Started my day with an MVA (doo daaa doo daaa), actually got to board and collar a patient. Transported to a private hospital. Have I mentioned how much nicer the private hospitals are than the public? So much nicer. Next we went to a collapse, which I deemed heat exhaustion because it was umpteen degrees outside. The thing was though, it was in a shanty town, so we had to have the patient walk up this hillside to the ambulance (also, pretty sure an umlungu (white person) had never been in this place before, as instead of getting cat called, I just got stared at point blank). When we finally got her up to the ambulance, we discovered that the radiator pipe had cracked, and all the water had leaked out, so it wasn’t driveable. So we waited about 40 minutes in the sweltering heat for another ambulance to show up. I went with them, because otherwise I would have been sitting by the side of the road in jeans waiting 3+ hours for the tow truck to show up. Not awesome. Then we picked up a sprained ankle to transport to another private hospital that was once again GORGEOUS. Then I had the most heart wrenching case I’ve had yet. They told me they’d drive me home, but then I found out it was an infant transport, so I was like HELL NAH THAT’S ME. We went to the dispatching hospital’s NICU to pick up the baby. He was 7 weeks old and was obviously born premature. He was tiny. He was born with an obstructed airway, and was going to the nice public hospital to have surgery that night. He was trying to breath on his own though, and was fighting the tube. He was trying to cry as well, and I was fighting not to cry. I kept rubbing his leg and his forehead, just to make sure he knew there was someone there. After we transported him to the hospital, I watched from the doorway as they moved him from the mobile incubator to the hospital one, and in my mind the words “go, live and become” popped up. I sent all the vestiges of my energy to that little guy (I’d been up since 6, working since 7:30, and it was now almost 8 PM), willing him to live. I know it doesn’t count for that much, but I just wanted so much for him.

Wednesday: pretty slow day. we were dispatched to a post MVA, which turned out to be this old white guy who got hit by a bike, and was living in a one room apartment in a hooker hotel. Good morning Abby. We were then called and recalled several times, finally going to a collapse that was deemed to be post-ictal (after a seizure). The guy was smelly, homeless, wet (someone dumped water on him when they saw he was seizing. Awesome job, security guard), and pretty unresponsive. Next was another post-ictal in another shanty town. This guy at least had family with him. Then we were called to a post CVA (stroke) but it turned out the guy was just majorly drunk. And smelly.

Thursday: I finally remembered my stethoscope, so I wore it all day today, at the insistence of my crew, because they wanted to see how many people thought I was a doctor. Total was 4. 1st call was in a squatter camp in an abandoned-ish building. Total shit-hole, pardon the language. This woman was lying in a room that was walled in with fiberboard, no ceilings, and the permeating smell of urine and stale cigarettes. All of her neighbors came to help us, so there was at least a sense of community. The 2nd patient was in yet another squatter camp, although this was the first one with Indians and a white guy who looked like he got transported out of a bad redneck movie, down to the missing teeth and huge, shirtless, flabby, white belly. This woman was having a miscarriage I suspect, but I couldn’t say that obviously. The next patient of the day was a woman who had had a mamogram the day before, and now she had a huge cut under her breast, and was leaking fluid. Her grandson called me Miss America. The last patient was having chest pain, and we picked her up from a clinic and brought her to the hospital.

Woof, so that’s been my life. I have tomorrow day, Saturday night (!!!), and then monday-thursday next week, because friday I leave for CAPE TOWWWWWNNNNN. I booked my tickets for Robben Island today (For those playing along at home, this is the huge political prison that, under apartheid, held Nelson Mandela. Think Alcatraz, but with worse reasoning. All the tour guides there are ex-political prisoners as well, so we should be able to hear some great stories. Then we’ll bum around the water front for a bit, grab some dinner, and have a reasonably early bed, because Saturday we’re gonna climb Table Mountain (the one overlooking Cape town) then we’ll go to Boulder Beach to see some penguins (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In case you didn’t know, I have a mild obsession with penguins. Ask Sam or Liqa), and then to a big outdoor market. Then it’s bar/club hopping Saturday night (Thanks for all the suggestions/help Alex and Kev!), Sunday will be spent relaxing and exploring, and it’s back for more lights and sirens Monday.

Wanna know something weird? I leave for home in 3 weeks. I’m fairly undecided how I feel about this.

So I Suppose I Should Fill Y'all In

Wed, 09 Nov 2011 11:39:56 -0500

Posted to my other blog, but here ya go

After my week of clinicals, had a week of lectures then I went off to Amatikulu. Got to Amatikulu, had a presentation about community health workers, and then we went off with our mamas for the rest of the day. I was with my darling Linda, and we got to cuddle for 3 days. Holler. Our Mama lived with her 8 year old son, and a bunch of other young men who we weren’t entirely sure who they were. We threw our stuff in a room that smelled vaguely like a wet cow (I’ve smelled it, so I know), and then went with our Mama and her brother and sister in law to the grocery store. I don’t think I’ve ever seen 4 full bins of cabbages before. Or an aisle of eggs. Just. Eggs. Went back, had a lovely full dinner of zulu food, and went to bed. Except I couldn’t sleep, because the combination of being uncomfortably hot and the room smelling bad did not lend itself to my circadian rhythms. Got up the next morning bright and early, had a delightful breakfast of unknown neon pink meat and margarine sandwiches, and set off. Our mama doesn’t drive so we walked about 5 kms (about 3 miles) to her patients. First one had cancer, and had one leg fully amputated, and the other foot done so as well. We saw all her medicines, and then walked to the next patient. She had active TB, so we sat outside. The people we were with didn’t really understand how Linda could be black but not Zulu. Last patient of the day was a woman who was HIV positive, but doing extremely well. She gave our mama a HUGE woven grass mat, which one of the boys who we were staying with had to carry all the way back. In the rain. Once again, it looked like somewhere out of a movie. We stopped by her supervisors house for lunch. I was brought a steaming plate of….. Samp (mashed up beans and cornmeal) and intestines. I took one look, felt myself tearing up, and just said to my mama that I couldn’t eat it. So I got a roll with frosting on it instead. Went back to the house, fell asleep, got a voicemail after my nap from my AD saying my apartment had been robbed. Laptop, Droid, external drive, GONE. Awesome. Cried a lot, went back early the next day to deal, cried more. It sucks as all my research is gone, but I have all my photos on facebook, and all my everything else from before the trip backed up at home. I just hope whoever took it bought food for their families or something. Insurance is covering part of it as well. The next day, I went to my ISP site, and after spending 15 minutes trying to find the building, I called the base manager and found the building. It looked like some holdout from pre-fidel cuba. Huge courtyard with ambulances parked in it, winding staircases. Had my meeting with the base manager, went well, went out to get a minibus back, nearly had my necklace stolen. So all in all, it’s been a shitty week, but hopefully ISP will be great.

Remember That Time I Saw A Lung?

Mon, 17 Oct 2011 03:15:59 -0400

In case you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t been blogging as much because a lot of things have been same old same old in terms of lectures, adventures etc. I did manage to go to the Victoria St Market a couple of times, and haggled over a ton of art and jewelry. So I’ll start with last Monday. We had a nurse come in to explain screening practices to us and how to take basic vital signs (which I didn’t use the entire clinical experience, but we’ll get to that later). She used PowerPoint slides to explain how to take blood pressure, pulse, temperature, and breathing rate. Now for those playing along at home, you know I am a licensed EMT in Pennsylvania and Massachusetts. There are 2 other EMT’s in my group as well, and it was all I could do to contain my laughter when she asked if I was sure I heard the BP right. It was kind of cool to show my fellow classmates tricks to find things too. That was that. I had my first day at the gym I joined (state of the art, 3 floors full of brand new equipment, tons of classes, a juice/breakfast/food bar, personal training, all for $62 a month. Be jealous) which just made me feel so good. Being here and not being able to eat the food I should or get the exercise I want has put my body all out of whack, but thankfully, with the help of the cooking of my fantastic flatmates and I (hey I make salad, eggs and pasta. I’M A REAL GIRL) and the fact that a bunch of other people joined so I can usually go when I want, I’m slowly getting myself back to feeling physically good. Then I went to bed because I had to wake up bright and early for…..CLINICAL PRACTICALS!!! Other than my independent study project this is what I was most excited for. I could finally use the skills I learned in my EMT class (Sorry MCEMSers, our stuff is not real). So Tuesday we got there, and they had no idea who we were and where we were coming from. Now normally this would faze normal people, but since we’ve been in South Africa for almost 2 months now (Holy Crap!) we’re all used to this state of disorganization. I elected to go to the outpatient psych ward because hey, that sounded cool right? So Emily and I went there and the psych staff had no idea we were coming either. Great. They asked us what we wanted to do, and clearly we had no idea. Now I’m not saying this to sound like THAT American who’s all I AM HERE YOU NEED TO CATER TO ME but them having known we were coming and maybe having a slight idea of something we could do would have been nice. So we asked if we could maybe sit in on some patient consults. We went in with the doctor, and he gave us a quick run down of how to do a psych consult/analysis. Cool, something else to add to my bag of tricks. Then they brought in the first patient, who seemed relatively “normal” until he mentioned that he’d stopped hearing the voices telling him to hide in his bathroom as his neighbors were coming to kill him. Alright paranoid schizophrenic! Now what made me uncomfortable was not the patient, but the doctor asking us IN FRONT of him whether or not he was stable. Yeesh. The next patient was an agitated schizophrenic. Then the nurses brought us out to the reception desk and asked if we wanted to read any patient files. Yeah HIPPA is not a thing here. So we went to the clerk, who of course wasn’t there, and then went back to the desk and proceeded to sit. For 5. Hours. We kept asking if there was anything we could do, but they just kind of ignored us. It sucked, especially since many of the other people in our group got to see surgeries, weigh babies, etc. So I left pretty disappointed. The next day I was assigned to orthopedics. Wednesday was their spinal clinic day. Many of the patients were suffering from spinal tuberculosis, which occurs when TB travels through the blood to the spine to form a painful abscess there that depresses the spinal cord, resulting in paralysis, and loss of bladder and bowel control. Very sad. My first assignment was to marshal patients that are move them from the waiting room to the doctors. I went around talking to many of them, seeing where they were from, why they were there, etc. Using my broken Zulu of course. The word for back has a click in it, so when I failed at that, I got a couple of smiles. I met an 18 year old girl in a wheelchair with a MASSIVELY kyphosed (twisted) spine, who was in 8^th grade because she started school late. She lived with a state appointed guardian, and 4 other people. She didn’t like Beyonce but she loved Lupe Fiasco. She was so sweet. I moved patients on stretchers to X-ray using my mad EMT skillz. After that, I got to sit in on some patient consults, which was pretty cool. Then I FINALLY met an EMRS (Emergency Medical Rescue Services, who I will be doing my ISP with) worker. And it was a woman! She gave me some great insight into the system. It was a really eye opening day. Many of the patients had come from as far as 7 hours away, leaving their houses at 2 am to get her, only to be told that the diagnostic test they needed, such as an MRI, meant they had to come back in December for it. It was a shock to me that a) they couldn’t receive proper treatment at their local hospitals and b) that they had to wait so long for and MRI. Things that would NOT happen in the US. Thursday I had the pleasure and privilege of going to the pediatric tuberculosis ward. The ward itself had 32 beds, and all but 1 were filled. The ages ranged from barely a year to 8 years old. Many of the kids were multi/extremely drug resistant. A lot of them were in school when we got there, but a bunch were still too sick to go. While the head nurse was showing us around, I was making faces at this one little one I was standing next to, and she just reached out and grabbed my finger. Heart totally melted. A couple of the babies started crying, so I just reached out and picked them up and just walked around with them. I feel like because the nurses are so busy taking care of all of these kids and their physical needs, their emotional needs can sometimes get left behind. It’s hard to smile at a kid when half of your face is covered in a TB mask. Then Friday was probably the coolest day I had here. We got to sit in on surgeries. So we got there, got scrubs (!!!), masks, foot booties and hair nets. We went into the first OR and they told us they were doing biopsies. We saw 2 esophageal and 2 bronchial. I got to look down the scope into a guys lung! Then they told us to go to the OR next door where they were going to endoscopically intubate a guy who had been in a car accident and had 2 broken vertebrae (C7 and T1). We went in there, and I’m pretty sure the doc thought we were med students, because he had me starting bagging the guy after they put in an Oral Pharyngeal airway (thank gahd I knew what I was doing). They then put the scope down his nose, but discovered a ton of secretions they had to suction out before they could put the tube in. At one point, his oxygen saturation dropped (It has to be at 100, went down to 74.) and I got a bit nervous, but he came back and eventually they put the tube in through his nose. Then we got to go back to the first OR, where they had already cracked this guys chest open and were removing a huge mucous coating that was around his lung stemming from his being stabbed and resulting in his not being able to breath. As in I saw a cracked chest. I saw a breathing lung. Then I saw them pull his ribs back together. I was practically dancing it was so cool. It was definitely the most rewarding day.

This week we have our last days of lecture, then a few days rural next week, then I start my ISP, and then I’m done. How whack is that?

The Glory that is Having an Apartment

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 03:18:02 -0400

So I went from Real World: South Africa, to something that could actually be called “Real World: Durban”. My apartment is beautiful, aside from a couple small issues. We had to have a mini-stovetop/oven brought in because every time we tried to use the oven, it tripped the circuit breaker. I may or may not be sharing a full size bed with my friend Emily. It’s cozy. But we’ve been cooking healthy, yummy food every night, we’ve had a movie night, and the view of the ocean is absolutely fantastic. I have to admit, that for the first time on this trip, I’ve had a couple of just really good, really happy days in a row. Being in control is a marvelous thing. I get to wake up every morning with the waves greeting me. What is my life?

Homestay Reflection

Fri, 30 Sep 2011 06:32:09 -0400

So tonight is my last night in Cato Manor, the last night with my homestay family. I’m sorry, since when have I been here for 6 weeks? False. We have a big celebratory farewell dinner tonight, then I’ll go back home for the night, potentially go to the shebeen (illegal bar, kinda like a speakeasy) and then I’ll wake up tomorrow, and leave.

It’s been so eye opening to live here. We didn’t have running hot water, and we ran out of things like bread and fruit. I had to boil water to bathe in, and eventually I just got tired of it and just started showering at the SIT house. All evenings were spent around the TV, except when we went to go visit my gogo’s friends. I cooked once, and my family remarked that there wasn’t enough salt (that was kind of the point). All meals had some type of simple carb, and usually had meat. I was woken up every day by the 1 and a half and the five year old yelling and crying.

I got to spend a lot of quality time with my 15 year old sister recently. We went to the movies and went on a nice walk last night. I really will miss them. They opened up their lives to me and I just waltzed right in. I saw their hardships, but they were so welcoming and happy about everything, I genuinely enjoyed staying there despite everything. When I told my gogo last night about the dogs freaked me out by chasing and snapping at me, she promptly went over to the owners house and told her to tie them up! Superwoman!

I often worry about what happens after the students leave (I’m their 15th). Does life just go back to normal? Or do they wait for the next one? I worry that my sister won’t be able to afford to go to college. I worry that my other sister will keep working the same dead end job for the rest of her life. I wish I could do more here, but I don’t want to be slinging my privilege around. I’ll try and see them again before I go, but I’m going go be so busy, I don’t know if I actually will. I have to print out the family pictures we took last night too. Sha la la!

Photo

Thu, 29 Sep 2011 07:59:55 -0400

The Rural Life Part Two: Attack of the Spinach

Mon, 26 Sep 2011 04:28:35 -0400

Well last week was definitely on the list of things I had never done before. After leaving Wednesday, I first secured a flat for the next month. First apartment! In South Africa! Sweet! After around 3 hours of mist and rain, we arrived in Impendle. Even more like the Lord of the Rings. It was all mountains. Allison and I arrived at our homestay, which was on a….FARM. Our gogo had cows, chickens, goats and horses. HEAVEN. Except for the long drop toilet. Located next to the cows. Mouth breathing, mouth breathing… She lives with her grandson, and one of her sons lives next door. She had 6 kids, but one of them died, and most live in the cities. She herself was a teacher, but as she told us that night, she was a nurse at age 16 in Durban until one of her friends died and she couldn’t handle it. She got married to a man much older than her, and had her children, and had her farm. She was pretty cool. We went to bed super early that night.

We woke up on thursday to a breakfast of porridge and hard boiled eggs. Not happy, but dealing. Our first stop was a crafters group, who, after we finished buying our goods, did a dance for us. These were some incredible women, which I think is starting to be the theme for this trip: Truly, formidable women. After that, we went to an eco-school, who is starting the same thing the school in Umtwalume is doing with growing their own food. They weren’t as far along in the process, and it was all being led by a woman from America, who honestly the most accurate word to describe is a “hippy”. She was pretty cool, but wasn’t really open to new ideas relating to growing practices, which kind of annoyed me. But I digress. They made us lunch (more on that later), and the kids did a performance for us, with some audience participation. A lot of the dances here involve high kicking, and the kids were dying laughing at us trying to copy them. On the way back from this, we saw a cow giving birth! Just the startings (some hooves hanging out the back), but still super cool. I found out the next day that Louise at Drumlin had had HER baby. 2 calves in one day! After the school, we went and visited a traditional healer (Sangoma). She told us how she had had extensive training which included being sick constantly. Apparently you need to have Zulu ancestors in order to be able to consult with hers, so sorry Tapper/Fleishman clan, no idea what’s going on. Dinner and an early bed that night. The next day we got in the van, and it turned out basically everyone had had some wicked bad gastrointestinal nastiness except me, Lauren, Aly, and Mike. Yeah for my digestive system! So everyone was pretty miserable that day, so it was a blessing that the day was pretty relaxing. We started off talking about home based care visits and then actually going on one. This was SUPER awkward, as there were 13 of us crowded in this poor sick woman’s living room. I feel like it would have been better had we been in smaller groups. Then it turned out she may or may not have active TB. Huzzah! After that, we went to the American woman’s compound, Zuvuya. Basically, a hippy commune. Don’t get me wrong I truly respect them following their beliefs so hardcore, but the fact that they think their lifestyle is applicable to the communities around them kind of pissed me off. That and the fact that they once again scoffed at my planting ideas and that they didn’t vaccinate their kids or animals. Not cool. But it was gorgeous, and we had the first healthy meal that we’ve all had in months. We got to talk to an herbalist who really knew her plants. There were also random horses, dogs and cats that popped up here and there. We went back to our homestay and had a milder dinner. Our gogo went to bed at like 7, so Allison and I stayed up writing for an hour before we called it a night. Left early the next day, and I’ve never been so thankful for a shower. More class now!

The Rural Life: Part One

Wed, 21 Sep 2011 05:59:15 -0400

SO.

Sunday we left early for Umtwalume, where 13 of us would be staying for the next three days. This is after another weekend on Florida road living the good life (Summary: danced in a cage and onstage at a dubstep club, then passed out on saturday night at 10 after going to the flea market. Good looks). Upon arrival, my immediate thought was that we were in a movie. After driving by fields and fields of sugarcane, my roommate and I were dropped off at the top of a hill overlooking fields and beyond that, the ocean. Absolutely incredible. We arrived at our house with our two brothers, one of whom was an admissions counselor, and the other who was a poet/philosopher. After being told that we would not have electricity, it was quite a shock to walk in through the front (italian tiled) entryway and have our mama be watching TV (apparently, there was another one in the master bedroom), and having electrical sockets in our room with which to charge our phones. High fives happened. After dinner, we got into bed. Which is when I started itching pretty uncontrollably. I finally fell asleep, and awoke the next morning to have my arms covered in hives. Awesome start to my day. We began monday with breakfast, bathing in a bucket and a visit to an art center. We learned how to make beaded necklaces and bracelets, which is how the people who work at this center make a living. Subsistence living is pretty foreign to me. They also had a recording studio there which we visited, which was pretty cool. Then we visited a primary school that was self sufficient food wise. They had a huge garden of vegetables, and it was a community project, so all the kids were involved and knew where their food came from! As compared to the other school I visited, these kids were all happy and healthy looking. They performed some for us, a traditional dance, a poem, and a song. They were absolutely adorable, but it felt a bit strange that they felt the need to perform for the visitors. After this, the rest of the group went to an organization called LoveLife, which is all about peer advocacy in the fight against AIDS, while I went and had an insiders view into the South African Health care system. I went to this random clinic in a strip mall, where the doctor I saw was not the doctor advertised, and where I got a random injection and pills to deal with the spots all over me. I rejoined the group and went back to our house for dinner, with bed following immediately after. I got a voicemail from the doctor that evening that I couldn’t understand as he was mumbling, so we decided that I should go by the clinic the next day and see the doctor about what he called about. I arrived at the clinic, where the doctor there wasn’t the doctor I saw previously, and they didn’t have a phone number for said doctor, so I had no idea why he called. Awesome. But I’m ahead of myself.

Tuesday we met with a woman called Mthandazi Doyisa. She is a traditional healer that we had to walk to. She uses water and candles to heal people. She first discovered she had powers at age 8, and since then people have come to her with a variety of ailments. It seems that she uses a combination of Christianity and her own brand of medicine to do the healing. She also refers people to a clinic when she encounters illnesses she can’t heal. After that we visited an open air TB hospital, which was fascinating. I wore a mask the entire time. The patients all seemed very happy and actually healthy for the most part. It turned out that a lot of the MDR (multi drug resistant) patients were there under their own volition, but that many times a doctor will have to say that they have to stay there, as in no refusal of medical treatment. Post TB hospital, we went for a very touristy lunch and then the beach! The water was turquoise and so refreshing. We had a communal dinner that night complete with dancing and men sitting on chairs and women sitting on floor. Oh and all of us were in some form of traditional dress. Word up. We left very early this morning, and are setting off for our next village in a few hours. My reaction is clearing up quite nicely. Off to go get my laundry now!

It’s been A week!

Tue, 13 Sep 2011 04:09:06 -0400

So last week I didn’t blog at all, considering we were in lectures the entire time. The weekend before we went to an area of Durban called Florida rd. Long story short I’ve never hated being white so much. These people are living in these gigantic mansions juxtaposed with the gigantic poverty that their domestic workers were living in. Although I had fun, it did highlight that there is still a very long way to go before there is actual equality in South Africa instead of just the equality written on paper. So nothing super exciting during the week, although I must say I am getting more comfortable walking around by myself at night. Now of course I’m not aimlessly wandering around, I’m just going to friends houses, but it’s nice to feel more comfortable around here. Then last weekend, we had plenty of excitement: we went to the Zulu reed dance! The Reed Dance is a celebration of virginity. About 50,000 girls ranging from age 10 to age 40 come to the Zulu palace to go through virginity testing. They then take a 10-foot tall reed and walk all the way up to the palace to present it to the Zulu king. Traditionally, he picks a bride out of one of them, but since he’s gotten older he’s stopped picking and it’s more just a tradition. Additionally, the girls must not break their reed before they bring it to the king, as that represents the loss of virginity. Now I must say that the only things these girls are wearing are strings of beads over their chests and beaded skirts around their waists. As in we all saw plenty of breasts this weekend. These girls were fearless though, singing as they walked, proudly displaying their bodies. We talked to a number of them, who wanted their pictures to be taken with us of course. We asked them how many times they’d done this and many had participated for 5+ years. Many of them said they didn’t want to be chosen because “the king is old”. They were just proud to go there and to prove their virginity and to participate in this long-standing tradition. At one point, we went into the banquet tent, where Zulu royalty and Swaziland royalty were all sitting at one high table and smack dab in the middle was the president of South Africa, Jacob Zuma. We were all very excited and mildly star struck. So one of the girls I was with went and talked to someone who turned out to be a Zulu princess and eventually we all got to meet the president. Apparently my Gogo and sisters saw me on the news too. They were thrilled when I got back and told them I met him. Although I don’t agree with many of his policies and I don’t know where I stand on his rape case, it was still cool to have met the president. After leaving the reed dance, we had to drive for a couple of hours to get to where we were staying in St Lucia. This involved driving through a game park! We saw a rhino, a baboon, zebras, water buffalos, a giraffe, and springboks (south African antelopes). Super cool. We arrived in possibly the nicest hostel I’ve ever seen (it was pretty much an apartment) and went out for pizza. We even saw a lizard on the wall in the restaurant. The next day we set off for Durban, but stopped first in the St Lucia water park. There we saw a bunch of hippos and a crocodile! We all walked down to the end of this boardwalk and found the Indian Ocean waiting for us. We all ran down towards the water (I got taken out by a wave) and it was glorious. Then we drove back to Durban and back to our home stays. The rest of this week consists of more lectures, and then our Zulu final on Friday. Needless to say, I’m very nervous about that. We’ve had vocabulary shoved into our heads for the past 3 weeks without too much review, so I’ll be interested to see how this turns out. Next week is our first week in rural home stays, so I’m excited/nervous for that. Additionally, I’ve decided that I’m going to focus my ISP on emergency care rather than prenatal, and it turns out I can ride on am ambulance for 3 weeks! Pretty sweet deal. Alright, back to class for me. Hamba kahle!

Photo

Fri, 02 Sep 2011 06:13:56 -0400

I've been trying to write this since Tuesday

Fri, 02 Sep 2011 05:01:21 -0400

Tuesday was the day that we went and visited the schools. I was in for a shock. There were 700 kids in this tiny school, with sometimes 60 kids to a class, minimum probably 30. This is with one teacher. We started off by meeting with the principle, who, although fairly genial, had some viewpoints I didn’t agree with. First of all, (and don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate what he’s trying to do), his school was the first school to accept refugee students, against government policy. He also never turns a child away. Now this is all well and good for keeping kids off the streets, but are they actually learning when their teacher spends 50% of the time trying to control the 40+ kids in the class? These teachers are majorly overworked and underpaid. Additionally, the principal believes that mild corporal punishment is the solution to the discipline problems they have there. As in hitting kids will stop them from acting out. Since this isn’t actually legal, he can’t formerly condone it. But what about giving kids a concrete punishment? Conferences with the parents? Bad grades? Sitting out of recess? The teachers that I observed did none of these things. The first class that I spent a chunk of time in was a first grade class, with 52 students to one teacher. The class was working on phonics. The teacher would berate the children, saying their individual writing was “horrible” instead of saying “try changing this”. These kids are 6! Their handwriting shouldn’t be perfect yet! The second class was slightly better, with the teacher having more of a handle on the kids, plus they were older (it was 6th grade). There were 17 year olds in the class who were refugees. But is it appropriate to have a student that’s 6 years older in the class? I absolutely think they deserve to be there, but what if students get harmed? Back at the SIT house, we were told that this school has numerous incidents of rape and pregnancy, one instance of which included both being perpetrated by the school’s security guard. All I wanted to do there was to give these kids working pencils and positive reinforcement.

Yesterday we went to our various assigned NGO’s (Non-government organizations). I was assigned to NOAH, an orphanage for children orphaned by AIDS. Upon arrival, we were given a brief tour, during which we were told that it wasn’t actually an orphanage anymore, but a sort of daycare/preschool for the same kids. Many of them were HIV positive. I saw one boy who either had horrific 3rd degree burns or was having a reactions to ARVs. There were kids everywhere, and many of them were out of control. We played with them for the remaining time. We spent a lot of time with the 4 year olds, who spoke no english, and loved hitting each other and taking pictures with us. It is quite difficult to discipline a child if you don’t speak the same language. One thing the center did have going for it was the MASSIVE garden in the front. It looked like a small farming field. Since the money they get from NOAH doesn’t give them enough support for enough food for all of them, so they grow their own! Pretty neat sustainability.

Zulu is difficult, but I think I’m improving. I just can’t wait to be doing independent living.

I just needed to put this down before I explode.

Tue, 30 Aug 2011 06:07:22 -0400

One of my host brothers is a typical rambunctious 5 year old. He’s super hyperactive, but he’s a normal kid. He constantly wants to interact. His mom is super nice to me, but it seems that all she does is yell at him. I even saw her slap him across the face. They told us we may see our fair share of child beating, but this is intense. Yeah I got into it a couple times and my dad started at me and I got scared, but it rarely ever got further than that. I want to say something, but I know it isn’t my place to. This is their home and their culture, so who am I to intrude. But this beautiful child is being treated like his mother hates him, which, in a sense, she might. She’s 24, he’s 5. You do the math. She may resent him. It is pretty much impossible to have any semblance of a life or future here after you have a child, and since the pregnancy rates are huge for teenagers and young adults, that is so many futures being blanketed. In the US, yes it is hard, and for some people near impossible to have a future, but at least there is the infrastructure and in many cases the support system to make sure that you can try to better yourself. I acknowledge that having children is wonderful, and I’m sure that is the goal of many women, myself included, but at SOME point, not while we’re still in school, ensuring our financial stability for the future. From what I have seen in South Africa there is a severe lack of this. A child is the end of the road. What mystifies me, especially in my household, is that my sister had another child who’s almost 2. If you hated having the first one so much, why not ensure that you didn’t have a second? I suppose that the knowledge may not be there, which is something we’re focusing on in class. In order for there to be a behavior change, such as using condoms or any other form of birth control/family planning, there needs to be the knowledge that such things actually exist. My other host sister (technically the older ones cousin, we all live with the younger ones grandmother), who is 15, is already saying she doesn’t want a boyfriend because she needs to have a career. I’ve asked her some guarded questions about HIV, homosexuality, etc and received some satisfying answers (ie knowledgeable ones), but I want to delve further into what she knows. I met my friend Aly’s host sister, who has decided we’re best friends because of a mutual love for talking, being loud, and Nicki Minaj. This girl, who’s 17, has already applied to Uni for media/journalism and has her sights set. I just wish every other teenager I meet here could be more like her, more goal oriented. Her top priority is getting out of Cato Manor, and most of the kids here seem like they don’t care. Now this may not be true, just the ones I’ve talked to etc, but I want more of them to be dissatisfied with their living conditions, to want to DO something about it. there is no running hot water here. All clothes are washed in the bathtub (you’re lucky if you have a shower). There is a mix of having cars and not. My house has no ceilings and bare wiring. They had to wait until I brought money home from the program to buy bread. If this is not an area in need of change (and yes I know there are worse out there), then I don’t know what is

Painting my Body

Mon, 29 Aug 2011 08:53:30 -0400

So my homestay has been going swimmingly. It’s pretty relaxed in the household. I come and go as I please. We went out to dinner for Haley’s birthday saturday night (got mildly sick) which was super fun. I love the fact that I ordered a hard cider with dinner and didn’t get a second look for it.

Today we went to the University of KwaZulu Natal (UkZN) for a double morning lecture. It was about an activity called body mapping, which is a therapy technique they use with HIV patients. In essence, it’s drawing your emotions on a “map” of your body. It was verrrrry therapeutic for me (I’ll upload the pictures when I have more bandwith) as I needed to physically get out of me a lot of my thoughts and emotions. I can see why this would work so well with HIV patients. They asked us to draw things like a timeline of significant events in college, a place where we hold out stress, and a place where we gather our strength, and they ask HIV patients where the virus hurts them, etc. All of the ones we created were beautiful. I saved mine.

It has been hard eating-wise. My family pretty much only eats meat, which is throwing my eating/health out the window. I can feel myself gaining weight and cholesterol. It was nice to play soccer with the kids saturday.

Another thing that has been hard for me is the amount of things I see here that I want to change. I want to build soccer nets. I want to clean up the ton of trash around my house. I want to give my host mom an actual kitchen, my sister a working backpack so she can go to school (she’s stayed home for 3 days because the zipper on her backpack broke)

I want change but I need the tools, which is hard

First Homestay!

Thu, 25 Aug 2011 08:27:11 -0400

So we left off when I was about to have my first Zulu class. First and foremost, Zulu is freaking HARD. It’s a Bantu language, so the gramatical rules are unlike anything I have learned before. The clicks are also impossible to grasp.

The next day our lectures were one about understanding public health, and then one about the Mediatisation and Myths of AIDS transmission in South Africa. The author of the article we read for the seminar turned out to be our lecturer, which I thought was going to be cool. The article itself was fascinating and full of well established points, but then the author himself reasoned himself in circles. He stereotyped americans, and basically summarized his paper. Not really appreciated. Although after reading his article, I did have a better understanding of how AIDS myths are propagated (If you have sex with a virgin it will cure you of AIDS, garlic, african potato, lemon and olive oil is another option)

After the lectures, we had more homestay orientation and were told only a few of us would have showers. Awesome. I’m bathing out of a bucket for a month. My homestay mama came up to greet our van, and my 5 year old brother came and took my double his size suitcase into my room. My mama is named Lucy, and she has 2 daughters (Nobuhle, Londiwe) and Nobuhle’s 2 kids, Othile and Sibiwe. Londiwe’s English is excellent, the rest not so much or not at all. They took me to my room, which was small but all of my things fit. The kids loved the toys and crayons and sunglasses I gave them, and my host mama loved the maple syrup and jams. They’d had 13 other students before me, so I hope I measure up.

More Zulu today, and back to my homestay!

Sawubona!

Wed, 24 Aug 2011 02:21:33 -0400

YAZ WERK ZULU

My internet will probably run out before I post this

Mon, 22 Aug 2011 16:34:52 -0400

Today was: first lecture

Kinda boring, we were all tired. Then we all had to wake up wicked freakin fast. We were dropped off in small groups in city center and told to find our way to two places and then use the bus to get back to our hostels. Terrifying. I was so glad I had a friend with me.

First of all I stuck out like a sore thumb. I have never noticed how much being white is the majority, I’m just me you know? But there were very few other “white-y’s” on the streets. I got hassled slightly, but not nearly as bad as I expected. A group I was with walked by a street performance with maybe 500 people watching, and the performer made some comment in Zulu, and all of a sudden there were 1000 eyes on us, laughing at us. But nothing got stolen, no one got harassed.

Also 80 some odd pages of reading for the first set of homework. And there’s apparently going to be a poop-ton of writing. Awesome. Already kinda stressed out.

I can’t imagine starting independent living here. The thought of trying to navigate everything by myself while doing a research project for 5 weeks is totally terrifying.

Bed now, class in the early am. Zulu tomorrow!