Overdue

Hi all! So my blogging for the month of November has been sub-par. Mostly that’s because up until two days ago I have basically been without a laptop. I hate computers, and they must hate me too because mine has virus-ridden and unworkable for the past few weeks. Luckily, I found an IT person at UCT who was willing and able to help me – my entire hard drive had to be wiped clean and rebooted. If I were home, the problems could have been much more easily taken care of I’m sure. Unfortunately, I probably won’t have a chance to upload any more pictures onto the blog. Enough complaining about my computer though.

I’ve also been sick with sinusitis once again, having had a migraine which lasted for over a week before seeing an ENT specialist. I was absolutely miserable but am feeling better now, in time to enjoy the last couple of weeks in Africa. Until next Friday though, I won’t be able to completely relax because two final papers are due – one group project on Nigeria and one research paper on Myelomeningocele. I am really thankful to him and my TA, Eboni, for being so concerned with me while I was sick. Prof was the one who referred me to the ENT surgeon and on Monday in burns surgery, he shouted across the OR to me (in front of a large number of surgeons, nurses, and professions) to ask about my health. Needless to say, I felt very special. It makes me smile just thinking of the care and compassion such an incredibly talented and renowned doctor showed a meager American intern. It is fairly ironic and inappropriate, however, that we talked about my sinus problems in such an awful setting.

My next topic is very substantial and it’s something that I really haven’t let myself feel the full effects of. Last Tuesday, in accompanying Prof to the clinic in Khayelitsha which he visits every week, I saw a woman give birth. Without going into the details, it was quite amazing – mostly because the woman received no drugs for pain, was not hooked up to any sort of monitoring machines, and there was no fuss made around the event. She virtually received no outside attention (apart from the stares of 3 foreign students) and there was nobody present to offer encouragement. I certainly had nothing to say, especially since I don’t speak Xhosa. The sister who delivered the baby was very kind and experienced, though; she obviously knew what to do when the mother was ready to push. Over 6,000 babies are born in that particular clinic every year, in a space holding just a few beds. During delivery (which was so unexpectedly fast), the baby’s cord was wrapped tightly around her neck. I was scared, and even more so when she didn’t start crying for a couple of minutes after being born. But she was fine and absolutely adorable, with a lot of hair. She also looked very old for a newborn. When I asked the sister what the baby’s name was, sister looked at me like I was crazy; her response was that the mother had no right to name her daughter. I was stunned. Consistent with cultural tradition, the custom is for a mother to take her child home where the family and community members decide upon a name together. But the mother has no individual right to name her baby. I feel like that concept wouldn’t really go over well in the States. What was also eye-opening about the visit was the sister’s asking the other students and me if we had any children. Needless to say, she was very surprised when we told her we hadn’t and asked why not – I said there was no rush! But girls rush having children here. In South Africa, a pregnancy out of wedlock is not viewed as a mistake (as it often is in the United States). Rather, pregnancies are planned and young women who become pregnant do so to prove their fertility and worth. The Western idea of women having children after marriage and after beginning a career (something that I support) is very much founded in sexual equality, which is still not present in this country.

A quick mention of one patient who came into the Neuro Clinic at the Red Cross yesterday; I sat with Dr. Padayachy while he saw patients. Rita is 13 years old, 2 weeks post-op brain surgery. She took a taxi to the outpatient clinic on her own. Dr. Padayachy said that she was from Ethiopia and there were some familial issues; he asked her if she was taking her TB medication and ARVs (anti-retro virals for HIV). I can’t imagine being 13 years old and facing all of those things on my own. Kids grow up fast here.

I hope to have another chance to write at least one last blog. But next Friday is the last day of the program (and also when I get to meet Archbishop Desmond Tutu, which is so exciting). On Saturday the 5th, I fly with four other UNC students to Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe; I’ll also set foot in Zambia and visit Botswana. Yah!