Well. I guess I am terrible at keeping a blog. its just that every time I sit down to put the things I experience into words I feel at a loss. Like somehow words just cant describe this place. It’s a feeling and it wraps around you. Its very easy to get lost in.
Which is probably why is has been so long since the last time I have put my thoughts onto this page. But in the spirit of new beginnings (and through the begging of several friends) I am posting today! Woohoo for me.
So since I last updated I have been working a lot, meeting new people, dancing(btws i think dancing is my primary social currency, like I only know how to make friends in a dancing context) and starring in a PBS special And by starring I mean I may appear briefly in the background for a few minutes. But hey ill take it where I can get it. it will be on tv sometime in May and I will keep people posted on how/when they can view my 12.5 seconds of fame.
I would love to write to tell all of you everything but I feel to get back in the swing of things I want to share a good story from the past week. For a few weeks now we have been planning to take some of the long term patients at the respite center to Durban to be able to get outside and enjoy the beachfront. So last week after a few dismal, rainy days we were graced with the presence of sunshine and Meg and I thought it was time to take advantage of it. We gathered together 8 of our patients and piled them into our cars. It was so good to spend some time with these people outside the confines of their illness. We could just enjoy each others company and play in the sunshine. Unfortunately we did not prepare the patients for swimming and everyone was wearing variations of PJs. I spent the first few minutes regretting not being better prepared and wondering what I should do to make our time at the beach more special. But before I could put two thoughts together our friends were making their way to the water. They were splashing and jumping waves with absolutely no regard for their clothes or even a towel to dry off with. The very best part of the day was Patric. As I am sure Meg could attest to the look on his face was priceless. On the way to the beach Meg talked with Patric and found out that he had never been to the ocean before. He is a man in his late thirties who had never set foot on a beach and lived less than an hour from the Indian Ocean his whole life. You could tell from the way he approached the waves he was nervous, unsure of his stability in the water. Within a few minutes he had rolled up his pants and started to run his fingers through the water. I spent a little time after that following around the other patients taking pictures and making sure everyone felt alright. I turned to look down the beach where Patric was and he was laying on the shore letting the waves roll over him. I really can’t relay the kind of joy that was plastered on his face. I don’t know what else to say but that moment was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life. And I am proud that we got to be there with him, I am glad we could provide a small sense of relief, and I am blessed to be able to spend my time with people like Patric.
So that is just a brief recount of the kind of life I get to lead here. I promise I will write again soon.
With so much love,
mk
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
So Beautiful!
On Tuesday I came down with my very first African illness. I awoke in the morning, exhausted from tossing and turning all night, to find my sense of gravity had left my body. I was officially dizzy and nauseous with no recollection of how I could have gotten this sick in less than 12 hrs. I went to work mind set on not puking on my students. I was no help to Sinead the whole day and kept resting my head on our desk, falling asleep in between classes.
I didn’t realize how distracted my brief sickness had made me until returning to school on Thursday morning.
You see on Tuesday I grazed through everything half asleep. I was just praying for it to be open.
But on Thursday with the sun shining down on us I felt I was rewelcomed into the community at ST. Leos. And it struck me, how could I have already found this to be commonplace. Watching the scenes of children playing, yelling, and running around, sweating, and soo much sand. And then came my new eyes, the return of my health.
St leos students sing every morning. I am not talking catholic school mumbled words, when is this torture over singing. I am talking harmonized, soulful, praise to God. This day I was greeted with a new song. Praising Moya(spirit, God) along with clapping and dancing. I ask you where on earth do you get 7th grade boys willingly participating in song and dance. I watched the children sway to happy to greet the day. My heart lept. I cant believe I had already begun to overlook the small wonders that fill my life here.
These children, however mischievous in my classroom, really know how to hand over their fear of embarrassment. They just close their eyes, raise their hands, and sing...with no sense anyone is watching. It really makes me love them. Even when they are clicking in Zulu while I am trying to teach words that begin with the letter A.
Ps. I have become the kind of teacher who has a stern look and repeats things like “quiet down!” and points yelling “hey hey hey stop that!” if only my fourth grade teacher, Mrs Kelly, could see me now.
I didn’t realize how distracted my brief sickness had made me until returning to school on Thursday morning.
You see on Tuesday I grazed through everything half asleep. I was just praying for it to be open.
But on Thursday with the sun shining down on us I felt I was rewelcomed into the community at ST. Leos. And it struck me, how could I have already found this to be commonplace. Watching the scenes of children playing, yelling, and running around, sweating, and soo much sand. And then came my new eyes, the return of my health.
St leos students sing every morning. I am not talking catholic school mumbled words, when is this torture over singing. I am talking harmonized, soulful, praise to God. This day I was greeted with a new song. Praising Moya(spirit, God) along with clapping and dancing. I ask you where on earth do you get 7th grade boys willingly participating in song and dance. I watched the children sway to happy to greet the day. My heart lept. I cant believe I had already begun to overlook the small wonders that fill my life here.
These children, however mischievous in my classroom, really know how to hand over their fear of embarrassment. They just close their eyes, raise their hands, and sing...with no sense anyone is watching. It really makes me love them. Even when they are clicking in Zulu while I am trying to teach words that begin with the letter A.
Ps. I have become the kind of teacher who has a stern look and repeats things like “quiet down!” and points yelling “hey hey hey stop that!” if only my fourth grade teacher, Mrs Kelly, could see me now.
My day as a detective
The health system in South Africa seems pretty convoluted. On Monday I was sent on a mission to track down a file for a patient. She was paralyzed with obvious surgical scars but no medical record of the procedure and very little understanding of why she had surgery. My partner in crime is David, a dead ringer for Willem Dafoe, who is interning with Oxfam at the respite unit. Often when I find myself running errands with David I feed the need to re-enact the scene from Boondock Saints; run my fingers through my hair screaming “There was a firefight!!”…but David is Australian, I am sure has never seen the movie and would think I was completely insane. So, we set of for R.K. Khan. Which is a huge public hospital in Durban. This place was a mad house and there is no parking on the premises. So we have to squeeze into a strange lot across the street and walk.
Inside the hospital outpatients hand in a card to a nurse to proceed to queue for hours until their name is called. At which time they proceed to another queue where they wait to retrieve their outpatient record. Once getting that they must pay 10rand to carry the file from that room to another queue where they wait to see a doctor. The sing on the wall in that room says the wait to see a physician may be +/- 4 hours.
We bypass most of this craziness as we are not trying to see a dr. although there is a small hitch in the fact that we have no written permission from the patient to see the file and cannot remove files from the premises without serious consequences.
We hand in a card and wait for 2 ½ hours. Finally we get called by a man who brings us into a file sorting room and he pulls our patient info. Once getting this file David looks through the pages searching for a clue about the mystery surgery. It helps that David (willem) is a 4th year medical student and can decipher most jargon. After sorting though the paper work we find there is no diagnosis written. Just notes upon notes of random maybe this maybe that and on an order for a head ct with no results.
Now we are on a detective mission and we have to sneak over to the physician’s office to try and get some face time with a doctor. We find a helpful nurse who corrals a doc into seeing us with no wait. He was kind and very helpful but also he could not place a diagnosis. Her file was horribly handled and she had no discharge summary. The doc wrote us a permission slip to seek out further files. We went back to the file room where the workers disagreed over where to send us for several minutes before telling us to go to the info booth down the hall. The info person directs us to the basement. Which is def as creepy as is sounds. The man there reluctantly connected us with our patient’s inpatient file. And we searched again to no avail.
We head to ward 1, the women’s medical ward. This was basically one large room with around 60 beds. Each lined up to the next with no sense of privacy during examinations. We asked around and found another helpful doc. He deciphers the 2 files to conclude that the surgery did not take place at that hospital but another one in the city. We were disappointed for a few moments until he offered the hospital phone to get the verdict.
A 5 min conversation later we found our patient was paralyzed by a cyst that was growing on her lumbar vertebrae. They had been able to remove it but nerve damage was already done. This meant we no longer had to worry about TB of the spine or something called transverse mylenation (both req different meds) and now we could focus of her ARV treatment. After 4 ½ hours we returned with a small victory.
All of this made me realize that even with the crack in our healthcare system we still appreciate a small sense of continuity of our care. Our doctors talk to one another, we have patient histories, a lot of the time our files will at least have a diagnosis and informed consent. I know things like this happen in the states but this what every patient here has to go through to get medical care. Its nuts! Thanks to the brief kindness of a few people we were able to close that gap, but oh it was a learning experience!
Inside the hospital outpatients hand in a card to a nurse to proceed to queue for hours until their name is called. At which time they proceed to another queue where they wait to retrieve their outpatient record. Once getting that they must pay 10rand to carry the file from that room to another queue where they wait to see a doctor. The sing on the wall in that room says the wait to see a physician may be +/- 4 hours.
We bypass most of this craziness as we are not trying to see a dr. although there is a small hitch in the fact that we have no written permission from the patient to see the file and cannot remove files from the premises without serious consequences.
We hand in a card and wait for 2 ½ hours. Finally we get called by a man who brings us into a file sorting room and he pulls our patient info. Once getting this file David looks through the pages searching for a clue about the mystery surgery. It helps that David (willem) is a 4th year medical student and can decipher most jargon. After sorting though the paper work we find there is no diagnosis written. Just notes upon notes of random maybe this maybe that and on an order for a head ct with no results.
Now we are on a detective mission and we have to sneak over to the physician’s office to try and get some face time with a doctor. We find a helpful nurse who corrals a doc into seeing us with no wait. He was kind and very helpful but also he could not place a diagnosis. Her file was horribly handled and she had no discharge summary. The doc wrote us a permission slip to seek out further files. We went back to the file room where the workers disagreed over where to send us for several minutes before telling us to go to the info booth down the hall. The info person directs us to the basement. Which is def as creepy as is sounds. The man there reluctantly connected us with our patient’s inpatient file. And we searched again to no avail.
We head to ward 1, the women’s medical ward. This was basically one large room with around 60 beds. Each lined up to the next with no sense of privacy during examinations. We asked around and found another helpful doc. He deciphers the 2 files to conclude that the surgery did not take place at that hospital but another one in the city. We were disappointed for a few moments until he offered the hospital phone to get the verdict.
A 5 min conversation later we found our patient was paralyzed by a cyst that was growing on her lumbar vertebrae. They had been able to remove it but nerve damage was already done. This meant we no longer had to worry about TB of the spine or something called transverse mylenation (both req different meds) and now we could focus of her ARV treatment. After 4 ½ hours we returned with a small victory.
All of this made me realize that even with the crack in our healthcare system we still appreciate a small sense of continuity of our care. Our doctors talk to one another, we have patient histories, a lot of the time our files will at least have a diagnosis and informed consent. I know things like this happen in the states but this what every patient here has to go through to get medical care. Its nuts! Thanks to the brief kindness of a few people we were able to close that gap, but oh it was a learning experience!
Saturday, January 23, 2010
The Beginning
So I have been in South Africa now for about a week and a half. My mind turns in circles when I begin to think of how to share my new experiences with all of you.
First of all... where I live is breathtaking. Our small cottage sits on a hill on property owned by the Augustinian Order. The view I look out on features rolling hills spotted with the small houses of the village of Embo. The places are all made of cinder block. They are one or two rooms with tin roofs and no running water.
I find it difficult to stand on the edge of the balcony and look out onto the valley. It seems a blatant display of the class divide in South Africa. We, as a part of the upper class, literally look down upon the poor. The gap between the rich and the poor slaps me in the face every time I step outside of our gate. We are less than half a mile away from a mall with stores like The Gap and almost in the same amount of travelling time I can be at the respite center where I have begun to work caring for people who are sick from HIV and AIDS. I am having a significantly difficult time melding these two South Africas in my mind. I am unsure if I ever will be able to.
After finishing my first week of work I am completely exhausted. The issues we are facing everyday are beyond my capacity to comprehend and its hard to think that anything I can do will help. I spent my first day teaching at St. Leos this week. Our classroom is converted from a library and periodically has no electricity. We spent time reviewing the alphabet as we are teaching oral english. The children's ability varies greatly and it is hard to tell what they really understand of our lessons. But the teachers are so receptive to us and love having the chance to teach us some Zulu and are constantly encouraging to our efforts to teach the students. My job at the respite center is coming along very quickly. There is a very steep learning curve as I have already worked hand and hand with the nurses providing basic patient care. I even got to take someone's blood pressure my first day! Watching people suffer with disease is not easy. I waver between confidence in treatment and complete helplessness against the virus. I wish I had words to describe the things I have encountered there but I am speechless. Everyday I pray for strength to be able to be a positive and loving force in the lives of the patients there. I am shocked by everything I have seen already and I honestly have no idea where it will go from here.
Hopefully I will be able to post again soon (the internet and the electricity has a mind of its own here.) If you would like to email I am doing my best to keep in touch with everyone. marykate.crane@gmail.com
usale kahle (stay well)
First of all... where I live is breathtaking. Our small cottage sits on a hill on property owned by the Augustinian Order. The view I look out on features rolling hills spotted with the small houses of the village of Embo. The places are all made of cinder block. They are one or two rooms with tin roofs and no running water.
I find it difficult to stand on the edge of the balcony and look out onto the valley. It seems a blatant display of the class divide in South Africa. We, as a part of the upper class, literally look down upon the poor. The gap between the rich and the poor slaps me in the face every time I step outside of our gate. We are less than half a mile away from a mall with stores like The Gap and almost in the same amount of travelling time I can be at the respite center where I have begun to work caring for people who are sick from HIV and AIDS. I am having a significantly difficult time melding these two South Africas in my mind. I am unsure if I ever will be able to.
After finishing my first week of work I am completely exhausted. The issues we are facing everyday are beyond my capacity to comprehend and its hard to think that anything I can do will help. I spent my first day teaching at St. Leos this week. Our classroom is converted from a library and periodically has no electricity. We spent time reviewing the alphabet as we are teaching oral english. The children's ability varies greatly and it is hard to tell what they really understand of our lessons. But the teachers are so receptive to us and love having the chance to teach us some Zulu and are constantly encouraging to our efforts to teach the students. My job at the respite center is coming along very quickly. There is a very steep learning curve as I have already worked hand and hand with the nurses providing basic patient care. I even got to take someone's blood pressure my first day! Watching people suffer with disease is not easy. I waver between confidence in treatment and complete helplessness against the virus. I wish I had words to describe the things I have encountered there but I am speechless. Everyday I pray for strength to be able to be a positive and loving force in the lives of the patients there. I am shocked by everything I have seen already and I honestly have no idea where it will go from here.
Hopefully I will be able to post again soon (the internet and the electricity has a mind of its own here.) If you would like to email I am doing my best to keep in touch with everyone. marykate.crane@gmail.com
usale kahle (stay well)
Friday, January 15, 2010
I Made It!
Hello People!
I am safe and well here in South Africa. I arrived a few days ago and we have been working hard on adjusting to the weather and the time change. I am hoping tonight will be the first night i get to bed before 6am. The country is beautiful and there are so many things i cant wait to share. Unfortunately our computer is broken so I am on borrowed time. I will post again soon but I wanted everyone to know I am happy and settling in. Thanks so much for prayers.
talk to you soon!
I am safe and well here in South Africa. I arrived a few days ago and we have been working hard on adjusting to the weather and the time change. I am hoping tonight will be the first night i get to bed before 6am. The country is beautiful and there are so many things i cant wait to share. Unfortunately our computer is broken so I am on borrowed time. I will post again soon but I wanted everyone to know I am happy and settling in. Thanks so much for prayers.
talk to you soon!
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Leaving On A Jet Plane
All my bags are packed... Tomorrow I leave my house for a year. I was told to pack for this year using two bags and to have them weigh no more than 50 pounds each. I spent the last three days staring at my closet. Now, after a process where several of my clothes had to compete against each other in a functionality/potential for layering contest, I have finally finished. I find it so strange that every time I have moved before today I have brought boxes and cars full of "stuff". How strange is it that everything I will need for the next year fits in two reasonably sized bags? What the heck happens to the rest of my stuff while I am gone? Did I really need any of that stuff in the first place? Either way you slice it, if anyone wants to borrow anything for the next 12 months feel free to stop by and shop.
Today I was talking about how I felt an it reminded me of a scene from the movie Armageddon. Owen Wilson's character is getting strapped into his seat on the rocket, getting ready to shoot off into space(and eventually save the planet). He says that he feels like his is 98% excited 2% scared or maybe 98% scared and 2% excited. At this moment in my life I could not explain they way I feel any better.
next time I post I will be in South Africa!
Monday, December 28, 2009
Tick Tock Tick Tock
Time is passing by very quickly. And people just keep mentioning it to me. Everywhere I go…when are you leaving? How long are you gone for? Where are you going? Are you packed yet?
My answers to all those questions are minimal at most. I have had years of practicing the art of procrastination and this latest venture is no different. I continue to find excuses not to pack, pushing back the time at which I’ll have to say goodbye to all my friends and family. “No packing, tomorrow is Christmas ...then it’s boxing day…and new years… And I’m pretty sure Kwanzaa is in there.” Either way, it’s coming at full speed and on some level I have to begin to prepare.
In my last moments of in between time I plan on playing with all the people I will miss the most and continually reminding myself of why I am doing this in the first place. Oh! and I will be almost constantly watching West Wing and Grey’s Anatomy.
My anxiety surrounding my big move is slowly creeping up on me. About a month ago I started not sleeping, now I have graduated to brief moments of emotion amidst conversation and waves of nausea every time I hear the word airport (which actually happens more than you think it would). But, seriously, I have never been more sure of any decision I have made in my life and I am ready to go. The reality of my life in the upcoming months will be heartbreaking, challenging, and full of surprises but I am excited to cross those bridges; I may even cross them doing a celebratory jig.
My answers to all those questions are minimal at most. I have had years of practicing the art of procrastination and this latest venture is no different. I continue to find excuses not to pack, pushing back the time at which I’ll have to say goodbye to all my friends and family. “No packing, tomorrow is Christmas ...then it’s boxing day…and new years… And I’m pretty sure Kwanzaa is in there.” Either way, it’s coming at full speed and on some level I have to begin to prepare.
In my last moments of in between time I plan on playing with all the people I will miss the most and continually reminding myself of why I am doing this in the first place. Oh! and I will be almost constantly watching West Wing and Grey’s Anatomy.
My anxiety surrounding my big move is slowly creeping up on me. About a month ago I started not sleeping, now I have graduated to brief moments of emotion amidst conversation and waves of nausea every time I hear the word airport (which actually happens more than you think it would). But, seriously, I have never been more sure of any decision I have made in my life and I am ready to go. The reality of my life in the upcoming months will be heartbreaking, challenging, and full of surprises but I am excited to cross those bridges; I may even cross them doing a celebratory jig.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)