Anyways, as I said, I was talking with one of the other missionaries about what to post, and she said that she tries to keep a balance between good and bad. That sounded like good advice.
So, here is a post about frustrating and funny.
Quite often people wait until they are almost beyond help before coming to the clinic or sending out a mayday. By the time we see them it can be too late. It is extremely frustrating. Other times people come to the clinic, get treated once, then go home and get sicker, but don't come back to the clinic. And then sometimes they die. Just today Lynn and I went to see a woman who was complaining of stomach problems. She is seriously, seriously ill and suffering terribly. Back in Canada she would be an emergent case, but here things are different. She is afraid that she will die if she goes to the hospital (people around here call the hospital "the departure lounge" which gives you an insight to how things run sometimes). Lynn and I are doing what we can, but it really will be a miracle if she recovers well.
A lot of people just don't understand how to care for a sick person, or what the signs are that someone is seriously ill and needs help immediately. Two kids, one about 12 years old and the other a two-weeks old baby, have died in our area in the past two months because they got too little help too late. In both cases the situation sounded pretty innocent, but turned out to be critical. In the case of the baby I was told on a Friday that the child was "a little thin". I was going to see the baby on the Monday to help the mom with breastfeeding, but on Monday morning I was told the baby had died on the weekend. I was shocked, until I found out that the baby who was a "little thin" had actually lost 60% of their birth weight in their two weeks of life.
Anyways, all this has made me a little paranoid. Now, when I listen to prayer requests from the staff at morning devotions I am always thinking, "Okay...he said his child was sick and had a headache. What could that mean? How sick? How long? It is malaria? Is the child conscious? Can they eat and drink? Have they gone to the clinic?"
On Tuesday one of the workers asked for prayer. His brother's child was in the hospital and needed a blood transfusion. My paranoia kicked in. Blood? Why? How sick? Did he get the blood?
You see, if someone in Canada needs a blood transfusion, they get one. Right away. Here in Mozambique, things work a little differently. We're a little short on something called a blood bank. If you need blood you had better hope that there is a willing volunteer.
I happen to be blessed with extremely user-friendly type O blood, which means that almost anyone can enjoy my nutritious, plentiful blood in times of need. I asked a few questions, and found out that the little guy had not received blood, as there was no one to donate to him, so I decided to go in and donate. The hospital is only about 1/2 an hour away and also, well, mostly, I don't want people to die. Y'know?
And, like I said, I got plenty on tap.
Donating blood in Africa. It was something else.
It turned out to be kind of funny.
First things first, ensure that I don't have HIV. Here is my test. I don't have it. But it was still nervewracking. I kept thinking about how much my life would change if I found out I did have HIV.
Ouch. That is a big needle you so confidently jammed into my arm.
Tendai watches intrigued. This is understandable, because she is going to be a doctor one day...after she graduates from Julliard...on an athletic scholorship.
Tendai takes advantage of my weakened state to try and steal my hat. They took half a litre in less than five minutes. Basically, the blood bag sat on one chair and I sat on a higher chair. Gravity then did it's job and suctioned my blood out at an alarming rate.
Did I mention it was a big needle? I could have used this sucker on our cow. No wonder my blood poured out of me like a fountain. Very efficient, though.
Did I mention it was a big needle? I could have used this sucker on our cow. No wonder my blood poured out of me like a fountain. Very efficient, though.The highlight was when a nurse came into the lab and asked if I was sick. "No," I said. My Portuguese is pretty bad so all I could tell him was, "A child wants my blood." He looked at me as if I were deranged, and when I put myself into his shoes, it would sound pretty creepy.
