I slept my first afternoon in Mungeli. I didn't get much sleep on the overnight train (thank you creepy staring guy!), so I crashed as soon as I arrived at the Henrys'. Anil was returning from a court case deposition in Delhi, so Terry and I had a late dinner around 10 pm (turns out that 10 pm is quite early for dinner in the Henry household. Several nights we sat down for dinner at midnight).
It became clear the following morning that my cough was more than my lungs purging Kolkata's pollution... I was sick... again! I stared an antibiotic straight away. I REFUSED to spend my last week in India ill!
I went to morning prayers (in Hindi) and noticed that the men and women were sitting in different sides of the chapel (apparently that's how it's done in that region of the country... Alexander Campbell would be so proud!). After prayers, I took a tour of the hospital with Anil. I went into the ICU, the recovery ward, the women's ward, and the private rooms. I essentially followed Anil on his morning rounds and he explained all the cases to me. The thing about this hospital is that hardly anyone comes to the proper doctor unless it's dire (as the local medicine 'quacks', as Anil lovingly calls them, are the first, yet usually insufficient, treatment choice). Many of the cases could have been an easy five day antibiotic treatment, but rather, is now at the stage where a major surgery is the only option. There are also cases like the couple, who are currently healing in the hospital. They got into a fight, so the wife doused herself in kerosene and set herself on fire over the same of the argument. At some point, the husband decided to help and also got severely burned. There are certain cultural practices, whether it be superstitious magic medicine or extreme acts of martyrdom or anything in between that make proper medical practice in this place very difficult at times. People respect the doctors, that is abundantly clear, but it is often only when their loved-one is near death that the respect motivates action.
Also, entire families stay with the ill in the hospital. The looks of concern on their faces is heartbreaking. Especially now, during the harvesting season, it is a great sacrifice to leave back-breaking and meagerly paying jobs to stay at the bedside of a loved-one. Faces, prematurely aged by poverty, are etched with deep creases and tired expressions. Now their eyes are also filled with concern as well as exhaustion. This is not a full service hospital like in the States. Nurses are not available to bathe you or bring you water. A cooking staff does not prepare a tray of food to be delivered to your bed. It is necessary that a family member remain to give a patient basic care. There is no such thing as visiting hours' here.
After rounds, I headed to the CNI school that is run by the hospital. The principal gave me a tour and the children were incredible! Every time I walked into a room, they all stood and said, 'Hello Ma'am' or 'Good morning Ma'am'. The following day was Independence Day and they were all preparing for a special show (I returned for the actual performance the following day and was the 'guest of honor'). I watched practice and snapped a few photos before heading back to the hospital.
I napped much of the afternoon (stupid cough!) and accepted Anil's offer to stand in on a surgery in the OT. I watched a hysterectomy that afternoon and three more surgeries the following day. The surgeons were always very good about calling me over to see exactly what they were doing and why ('See the tear in his stomach here? We are stitching it up.' or 'Notice the fluid around the kidney? We've got to stop the oozing.'). They also included me in the pre-examinations ('see this blotch here on the sonogram? She is probably in the late stages of cancer. We'll take a biopsy to be sure.')
I have zero desire to become a surgeon, but I was fairly surprised that I only had to leave the room once during my entire four days at the hospital. I really am more capable than I thought!
There are three young doctors here as well: 2 surgeons and a dentist. The dentist is 24 and was very excited to hear that I was his age (the other two are in their late twenties, so he feels like a baby in comparison). Every night I was there, the younger doctors came over to the Henrys' to watch movies, eat dinner and hang out. We all had such a blast, and by the end of it I was beginning to get some of the medical jokes they told!
I wish I could have stayed longer -- as it was, I extended my stay by an extra day -- but I had to head to Delhi as I'm leaving in three days. Thing's didn't work out to meet up with Julien and Youssef (they went AWOL in Nepal for a few weeks), but I want to see the Taj Mahal before leaving India and it's near Delhi. I booked a stupid-expensive hotel for the last four nights. Its near some really cool Delhi sites, so I will be able to keep myself entertained. Right... not Mungeli...
It was interesting while in Mungeli. Anil laughed a lot at my fondness for Kolkata, because everyone from the country finds it over crowded and generally disgusting with pollution and waste; however, those who live in the city love it. I am one of them! I welcomed the trip to the countryside -- they are doing incredible work in Mungeli (Global Ministries should be honored to have a connection with Anil and Teresa Henry) -- but my heart is in the City of Joy. I adore Kolkata (as you all know by now). I cannot believe that I am gone from Kolkata and will leave India on Friday. I am not ready for that. I am certain that saying goodbye to my life in Kolkata was the most difficult part of this process, but I am no sure that it has actually registered that I am going to be in the States on Saturday... I am soooo not ready for that!
It became clear the following morning that my cough was more than my lungs purging Kolkata's pollution... I was sick... again! I stared an antibiotic straight away. I REFUSED to spend my last week in India ill!
I went to morning prayers (in Hindi) and noticed that the men and women were sitting in different sides of the chapel (apparently that's how it's done in that region of the country... Alexander Campbell would be so proud!). After prayers, I took a tour of the hospital with Anil. I went into the ICU, the recovery ward, the women's ward, and the private rooms. I essentially followed Anil on his morning rounds and he explained all the cases to me. The thing about this hospital is that hardly anyone comes to the proper doctor unless it's dire (as the local medicine 'quacks', as Anil lovingly calls them, are the first, yet usually insufficient, treatment choice). Many of the cases could have been an easy five day antibiotic treatment, but rather, is now at the stage where a major surgery is the only option. There are also cases like the couple, who are currently healing in the hospital. They got into a fight, so the wife doused herself in kerosene and set herself on fire over the same of the argument. At some point, the husband decided to help and also got severely burned. There are certain cultural practices, whether it be superstitious magic medicine or extreme acts of martyrdom or anything in between that make proper medical practice in this place very difficult at times. People respect the doctors, that is abundantly clear, but it is often only when their loved-one is near death that the respect motivates action.
Also, entire families stay with the ill in the hospital. The looks of concern on their faces is heartbreaking. Especially now, during the harvesting season, it is a great sacrifice to leave back-breaking and meagerly paying jobs to stay at the bedside of a loved-one. Faces, prematurely aged by poverty, are etched with deep creases and tired expressions. Now their eyes are also filled with concern as well as exhaustion. This is not a full service hospital like in the States. Nurses are not available to bathe you or bring you water. A cooking staff does not prepare a tray of food to be delivered to your bed. It is necessary that a family member remain to give a patient basic care. There is no such thing as visiting hours' here.
After rounds, I headed to the CNI school that is run by the hospital. The principal gave me a tour and the children were incredible! Every time I walked into a room, they all stood and said, 'Hello Ma'am' or 'Good morning Ma'am'. The following day was Independence Day and they were all preparing for a special show (I returned for the actual performance the following day and was the 'guest of honor'). I watched practice and snapped a few photos before heading back to the hospital.
I napped much of the afternoon (stupid cough!) and accepted Anil's offer to stand in on a surgery in the OT. I watched a hysterectomy that afternoon and three more surgeries the following day. The surgeons were always very good about calling me over to see exactly what they were doing and why ('See the tear in his stomach here? We are stitching it up.' or 'Notice the fluid around the kidney? We've got to stop the oozing.'). They also included me in the pre-examinations ('see this blotch here on the sonogram? She is probably in the late stages of cancer. We'll take a biopsy to be sure.')
I have zero desire to become a surgeon, but I was fairly surprised that I only had to leave the room once during my entire four days at the hospital. I really am more capable than I thought!
There are three young doctors here as well: 2 surgeons and a dentist. The dentist is 24 and was very excited to hear that I was his age (the other two are in their late twenties, so he feels like a baby in comparison). Every night I was there, the younger doctors came over to the Henrys' to watch movies, eat dinner and hang out. We all had such a blast, and by the end of it I was beginning to get some of the medical jokes they told!
I wish I could have stayed longer -- as it was, I extended my stay by an extra day -- but I had to head to Delhi as I'm leaving in three days. Thing's didn't work out to meet up with Julien and Youssef (they went AWOL in Nepal for a few weeks), but I want to see the Taj Mahal before leaving India and it's near Delhi. I booked a stupid-expensive hotel for the last four nights. Its near some really cool Delhi sites, so I will be able to keep myself entertained. Right... not Mungeli...
It was interesting while in Mungeli. Anil laughed a lot at my fondness for Kolkata, because everyone from the country finds it over crowded and generally disgusting with pollution and waste; however, those who live in the city love it. I am one of them! I welcomed the trip to the countryside -- they are doing incredible work in Mungeli (Global Ministries should be honored to have a connection with Anil and Teresa Henry) -- but my heart is in the City of Joy. I adore Kolkata (as you all know by now). I cannot believe that I am gone from Kolkata and will leave India on Friday. I am not ready for that. I am certain that saying goodbye to my life in Kolkata was the most difficult part of this process, but I am no sure that it has actually registered that I am going to be in the States on Saturday... I am soooo not ready for that!
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