Days in the clinic
I have to say I’m really enjoying working at the mission clinic. I get a much greater satisfaction nursing here in Africa than when I do back in Brisbane. When I work in the hospital in Australia I can quickly lose the enjoyment of helping people because it feels like I’m part of this one giant system that just churns people in and out. There never seems to be any genuine care in hospitals. I think nursing staff who have lost the heart are obligated to care because they are getting paid to do so, whereas there is no ulterior motive when you care for people with the sole intent of serving them. I love the feeling that comes with that.
This morning I had just finished administering injections when a nurse in the other room called out, “Phillipo, come and weigh this baby” Since being new to the clinic I’m not overly familiar with the layout so I left the injection room and just followed the voice on the nurse who was still calling out my name. Because I was listening to a voice and not reading the sign on the door, I was blissfully unaware of where I was going. I made a beeline straight to the nurse who handed me the baby. Not taking much notice of my surrounds I headed straight to the scales. Whilst the baby was on the scales it quickly dawned on me that the baby was really small. I looked over to the nurse and said, “How old?” She looked at me and said, “Today. Now!” At that moment I became wide-eyed because had just worked out where I was. In my wide-eyed shock my peripheral vision could be expanded and in the corner of my eye there was a woman lying down who had just given birth to the baby I was weighing. That’s right, I had stumbled into the maternity room! She had not long given birth after I walked in. Although it was awkward initially, I did feel it was a privilege being there at that time to share in this woman’s joy. After the nurses had all finished fussing over the baby, I took the infant off the scales and handed him back to the mother. I then slowly retraced my steps out of the maternity room, ensuring I knew where it was so that I could prevent further unexpected surprises in the future.
I think the hardest thing working in a clinic in Africa is the impression a white person has on small children. Lets face it, none of us ever enjoyed going to see the doctor or going to hospital as a child. It breaks my heart that there is always a look of fear in these young children who come into the clinic. I guess it’s hard because they will probably associate this fear with a white person. I had to give an IM injection to a toddler today and he was joyful right up until the time I stuck the needle in. He saw my face before and after the injection and it just really hurt me to think that this young boy is conditioned to thinking white people inflict pain. I guess there was a perfect case and point of this when I dressed a severe burn on a 2-year-old boy. Because I dressed the wound 2 days in succession he remembered the pain of the first day and as soon as I walked into the treatment room to change his dressing he immediately began to cry because the pain from the day before was probably utmost in his mind. I don’t write this in a depressing manner, but it really interests me how young lives are so impressionable and how trusting they are to people in their care.
I think one of the enjoyable things about working in the clinic is performing roles I have only read about and have longed to actually do. For instance, we are trained at my university to do everything involving the set-up and management of an IV infusion with the exception for inserting the cannula, which in my mind is such a vital task. I was fortunate to have cannulated a few patients already. I have read so much about it that I knew what to do. Admittedly the first one was a little difficult but the preceding ones went off without a hitch.
This entry was posted on Tuesday, July 13th, 2010 at 7:41 pm and is filed under Ponderings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
