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| Since I don't have any other pictures for this week's blog I thought a picture of my favorite snack would suffice. Salticrax. Salty Cracks? Delicious. |
In America, we love to complain about our healthcare system. "Boo hoo, I had to wait 20 whole minutes to see the doctor today. I had to shop for 30 minutes in WalMart while they filled my prescription. Waaahhh..." Well, this week I would've given my first born child for some American healthcare.
I woke up on Tuesday with a swollen lymph node in the right side of my neck below my ear. I felt fine so I went about my day and thought nothing of it. Late that night, I woke up and it was much worse. My jaw line had disappeared under the swelling, creating the illusion that my cheek and neck were one continuous part. Not cute. Normally under such circumstances, I would've gone to the capital to the Peace Corps Medical Office for treatment. Because I'm 8 hours away from the capital, I had to go to the hospital in the nearby village of Hukuntsi.
I set out walking, hoping to get a hitch to the hospital. My clinic has an ambulance (a truck) but our driver was in Gaborone for a few days, so there was no transport. Lucky for me, an ambulance pulled up to the clinic as I walked past. The ambulance had brought the hospital's social worker (a man whom I happened to meet on my way home from Mokatako over the weekend) to pick up some paperwork. This is a good time for me to mention that I meet random people all over this country and then they unexplicably pop up later when I need help. Anyway, I got to the hospital and went to the outpatient department. I "registered," meaning that they took my temperature and BP and I sat and waited for my turn to see the doctor. I had been waiting for about half an hour when a short, dark man came running from around the corner, grabbed my arm and pulled me into the exam room out of turn. Meet Dr. Ntumba from The Democratic Republic of Congo! He took one look at me and decided that I had the mumps. THE MUMPS? I didn't even know what he was saying when he asked me if I'd ever had the mumps. I thought he was inquiring about my "lovely lady lumps" or something. Mumps is really really common in children here. I would get a disease that normally only infects children. My friends at the clinic had a good laugh about that.
Dr. Ntumba ordered some blood work, told me to go home (QUARANTINED!), and asked me to come back the next day for my results. I walked to the hospital's pharmacy to pick up the Ibuprofen he had prescribed. I asked the pharmacist where I should go to set up a payment arrangement (PC foots the bill) and he shrugged and said, "Eh. You're free to go." I don't need to pay? You don't have to tell me twice. I found that the same ambulance that brought me was still in the parking lot. More good luck. The ambulance brought me home and I went to bed.
Thursday, I woke up feeling worse. The swelling in my neck had gone down, but I just felt really crappy all over. I was supposed to be introduced to the police force by the police chief but I had to skip it and go to the hospital instead. I walked to the clinic and waited, hoping that someone from the village would arrive and then I could ride back with them. A government bus showed up to pick up a nurse who was going to a workshop and I was able to get a ride. Again, I "registered," picked up my results, and waited to see the doctor. I sat in the hot, smelly hospital for 3 hours. I was repeatedly told that the doctor was in surgery but that he would be out soon. Finally, I got so aggravated that I called my nurse friend, Florence, and she agreed to interpret my blood work results. When I left the hospital, I was sad to see that there were no ambulances in the parking area. That meant that I had to hitch home in the midday sun, sick. I put on my sunglasses, had a litty cry, and started walking. I had walked for around 15 minutes, when a man in a Land Rover pulled over. He wasn't going to my village so he could only take me as far as the junction, 5 km away from my village. That was good enough for me, so I got in. He realized that he had left his hat in another car at the hospital, so we had to take a short detour back. I saw a nurse in a surgical outfit and asked her if Dr. Ntumba had finished in surgery (I was feeling guilty about waiting all that time for nothing.) She laughed and said "Dr. Ntumba left for Gaborone early this morning." So basically, I sat there for 3 hours waiting for nobody. Cool.
The Land Rover dropped me at the junction and shorty after that I got a ride in the bed of a truck to the clinic in my village. Florence decided that I probably had a virus which had initially infected my lymph node and then spread throughout my body, which explains the general malaise. She also gave me antibiotics just in case. Yesterday, I felt much better and spent the morning trying to make a map of the village. Moral of the story: getting sick in Africa is a hassle. There is little organization, no appointments, and you may or may not get any help. I still don't know if I have the mumps or not. So as much as we like to complain about the healthcare system in America, let's be thankful! Sure it costs lots of money and it has its flaws, but at the end of the day it is still the best in the world.
You guys are probably wondering about my trip to Mokatako over the weekend! It was great! Florence arranged for our ambulance driver to pick me up at 5:30 in the morning on Friday (last Friday.) He dropped me at the bus stop so I could get on the 6 a.m. bus. I rode that bus 6 hours to Kanye. In Kanye, I got on a bus to Lobatse, another hour long bus ride. In Lobatse, I found my friends and we had barely enough time to buy some food for the weekend. We had to rush to get the last 4 seats on the combi going to her village. We sat packed in like sardines for the 3 hour ride on dirt roads. Fun. When we got to Liz's house, we made dinner and went to bed. We woke up to rain that continued the whole weekend. We spent Saturday playing cards, making cookies, drinking wine, and having a sing along to Liz playing her guitalele. For those that don't know, a guitalele is a cross between a guitar and a ukulele. It's awesome.
Sunday, we got up super duper early because we had heard that the combi to Lobatse goes through her village at 6. We stood in the freezing cold rain until 7:30, when a man walking by advised us that the combi doesn't come until 8:30. We caught the 8:30 combi, and 3 hours later I bid my friends goodbye. I continued from Lobatse to Kanye, where I was able to do some grocery shopping. I caught the bus from Kanye to Hukunsi at 2:30. The first hour, I had to stand because the bus was so full. The conductor arranged a seat for me when someone got off, a priority seat for the honorary white person on the bus. I was thankful and took the seat for the next 5.5 hours. The bus got so full that I ended up finishing the ride with a child on my lap, the vector for my illness I suspect. I got off the bus in my village shortly after dark. I found that my fabric softener and chicken had leaked all over everything I had bought.
No biggie. I could wash the nastiness off and get the chicken in the freezer right away. I dragged my bags home, unlocked the door, and switched on the light. Nothing happened. I had no power. I had been traveling for 12 hours, I was covered in sweat and chicken juice that had leaked from my bag, only to find that the power was out at my house. Just my house. The other teachers' houses had electricity. I sulked to the police chief's house and he eventually figured out how to get my power back on. Needless to say, it was a very stressful journey, but seeing my friends was worth it.
My trip to Mokatako and my illness are pretty much the only things I did this week. I was not productive at all in terms of my community assessment. I spent more time in my bed than I did in the community, except for when I was in the clinic being tended to by Florence! I was able to spend a little bit of time thinking about more projects I'd like to do: a weekly dance for fun/exercise class, art therapy at the prison, and a women's empowerment seminar.
My health educator friend has volunteered to help me build a garden and a chicken coop, or as I like to call it, a chicken castle. In Sarah's chicken castle, every hen is a queen. Doesn't that sound nice? We are going to build a structure around the garden to keep the animals out and also to provide shade for the plants. He is supposed to come by sometime this weekend to draw up the plans. I cooked beets and butternut squash this week, which left me with a lot of veggie scraps. I usually feed the scraps to the goats, but I decided to try composting. I put my scraps as well as some dead plant material into a bucket and mixed it all up. So far it has just served as a home for sleeping moths, but we'll see!
I found out yesterday that Dimpho writes poetry. With his permission, I may try to put up one of his poems on here. He wants to write a book of poetry and I'd like to help him with that. He writes in English so he needs someone to help him edit.
Tomorrow, I'm going to make mini loaves of bread for my friends in the village: Tshene, Dimpho, Florence, and a few other people! Next week, I am going to continue trying to draw a map of Tshane. I have found that cartography is not a talent of mine. On Saturday, I am going to Kang for a Peace Corps mini-regional meeting. Kang is about an hour from here by bus, so it shouldn't be a difficult trip.
Despite the several storms we had this week, the heat is back with a vengeance. I was going to work in my dirt yard today but it was just too hot. I have to wait until sundown to go out, lest I have a heat stroke and end up back at Hukuntsi Primary Hospital. Pass.
I hope that everyone is getting ready for Christmas! I never thought I'd miss hearing Christmas music 24-7, but I really do. After this holiday season, I'll only have one more Christmas and then I'll be home! I can't help but count down the months because I just miss you guys and America so stinkin' much! Please feel free to email me! I'd love to hear about everyone's holiday plans and what you all are buying each other!!!
Love and Peace,
Sarah
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