$32.00

It’s good to know that morning rush hour traffic is universal.  

8am marked the start of a University of Nairobi Medical School class called “Complications of Type II Diabetes,” but the professor didn’t show up.   She was stuck in traffic.  An announcement was made that class would instead be held at 11am, and no one seemed terribly fazed by the schedule change. 

With our sudden free hour, we went up to Ward 8B – the Adult Internal Medicine ward – where Mercy is currently doing a rotation.   Dr. Clara, the Intern on duty, quickly took us around the ward and debriefed us on each admitted patient.   There was some pretty gross stuff, I have to say, but we all managed.

We stayed for full rounds, and one thing in particular sticks out in my mind.   One of the many patients we saw was in end-stage renal failure.   
The resident leading the rounds explained that the woman couldn’t afford the dialysis she needs to stay alive.   I asked how much dialysis cost, and the answer was approximately 3000 Kenyan Shillings (KSh) three days a month.   

That’s about $32.00.
I had about twice that amount in my pocket at that very moment.

IN MY POCKET.

The realization made me cringe.
Of course, even if I paid for the dialysis on the spot the same problem would arise next month.  What’s more – that wouldn’t be fair to the other patients, who no doubt have equally important needs.   So handing over what was in my pocket felt wrong and almost demeaning to all of them.  

The woman is dying.   

The doctors are just managing her pain for now, but clearly not very well because silent tears streamed down her face the entire time I was there.
To make things worse, her family has stopped coming to see her.   They apparently know that she’s dying and that there’s no hope, so they’ve abandoned her for all intents and purposes.
Good God.
I found the whole thing very difficult.   Of course – who cares if its hard for me – imagine how hard it is for the patients, and the people who deal with this and suffer from it every day.

Meanwhile, today we had to register our phone and internet SIM cards.   Kenya has this crazy new policy in place where, when you buy a SIM card (one is necessary to use each cell phone and each Internet modem), you have to register it within 7 days or it is automatically shut off.  “Registration” involves going to an authorized dealer – like a Verizon or AT&T store – presenting a photocopy of a drivers license or a passport, and filling out some paperwork.   Of course – this process isn’t posted anywhere.   You’re supposed to “just know.” 

Its one of those things where you show up to Register and they say “oh by the way – we need your passport.”   And when you present your passport, they say “oh – but actually we will only take a photocopy of your passport.”   “Do you have a copy machine?”  “No.”   Riiiiight.
All of us had to register both of our SIM cards by COB today, or they’d be shut off.

The other thing I wanted to do today is get a TB vaccination.   TB Vaccinations are standard issue in Africa for babies born in hospitals, and most Africans have little round scars on their forearms to prove it.   As over-vaccinated as we are in America, for some reason the TB vaccination is left off the list in the offices of American pediatricians. 

Given that we’re spending our days interacting with numerous patients hacking and coughing TB germs, I really want that vaccine.

I had asked for the vaccine at the hospital, but was told that anyone over 5 years old could only get the vaccine at City Hall.

City Hall?

Emily and I took a cab downtown, and found the “Innoculation Office” at City Hall where supposedly you could get vaccinations.   
I asked about the TB vaccine, and the guy behind bulletproof glass looked at me and said, “you’re supposed to get that when you’re a baby.”
“I know,” I replied, “but they don’t do that in America.  That’s why I’m here.  I want it.”
“We don’t have that.”
“But the people at the hospital told me you did!”
“No.   Have you tried the other hospital?”
“No.”

D’OH!
There is no such thing as a simple process in Africa.   NONE.
So I still don’t have my vaccine.

From there we registered our phones, which was a whole other NOT-simple process, and then we had a beer at a downtown trattoria.   The local beer here is called “Tusker,” and the logo involves a large elephant.   It’s not bad!

I picked up a newspaper – everyone here is buzzing about the upcoming election on Wednesday.  Today’s headline reads “Green vs Red is Obama’s New Headache.”

Kenyans are convinced that the Obama Administration is funding one side of the major election debate.   Who knows.

Tomorrow we take an 8am shuttle to Arusha, Tanzania!   The ride will take about 6-7 hours, but I can’t wait.    It should be a gorgeous drive.   Our hope is to see both Mt. Kilimanjaro and Oldevai Gorge over the weekend, as neither is terribly far from Arusha.