At 5:30am I was scheduled to meet Mbacka for a run. The family was a little hesitant to let me run alone so instead I would have my own Kenyan tour guide. I was ready by 5:25 but Mbacka, being African, he runs on African time. We missed each other so I nervously left on my own but had the run of a lifetime. It was market day so the villagers were hustling with morning chores and students were on their way to school. I could hear whispers coming through the trees from children saying “Mzungu! Mzungu!” and welcoming words of “Jambo” and “Habari” from everyone I passed. Two boys about the age of 8 or 9 decided we should race. I chased them down the path as I yelled “polepole!” which is Kiswahili for slow down. Old grampas and shopkeepers were cheering me on as we flew down the hill. I loved every second of it.
The morning continued with our trip to the clinic at Lyanaginga. Day number two. We arrived nice and early with our little lab coats on to get our hands dirty. We had no idea how dirty they would get. First on the agenda was a circumcision. Ouch. The “clinical officer” or the equivalent of a physician's assistant in the States is in charge of the entire clinic and would perform the procedure. He explained that he should normally have countless other pieces of equipment but that he would just have to make it work with what he had. We somehow managed the observation free of any major meltdowns and found out that the brother was next. They were about 8 and 7 years old, respectively.
After that he said that we needed to give the boys their tetanus shots and asked who was going to administer them. Me and Sarabeth. EEK! Turns out it's actually pretty easy. Straight shot right in the deltoid. No tears. Success. Then we moved to Quinine injections intramuscularly for antimalaria. Yup. The glutes. We saw a lot of bums. And I have learned the importance of safety with sharps. BEFORE I had injected, and before I filled the syringe, I pricked myself. I was pretty nervous which is why I fumbled but everything was fine. I recovered nicely and improved with practice.
The day continued with a delivery. With SB as the midwife, Dami, me, and only Evans (the clinical officer) in the room, our adrenaline ran high for the next hour. That would make only ONE trained professional. There was no electricity, no water, no blankets on the table, no towels, nothing to wrap the baby in....I could go on and on, but Rhoda successfully delivered a baby girl into Sarabeth's arms (see SB's post for more details!). We couldn't determine the weight because the scale didn't work and she didn't pick a name yet but Brenda thinks she might name her Sarah or Emily or Dami in our honor. Kenyans do that, she said.
I have now simplified the day into a few short paragraphs but it was a milestone for all of us. It reinforced the beauty and complexity of medicine and more importantly gave us the confidence to know that we are all capable of becoming successful physicians. It was overwhelming, emotional, and motivating all at the same time.
What about the pikipiki? That's local slang for a motorcycle. We've been riding them often since our arrival but today's commute home was an unusual one. With three to the bike to include the crazy man behind the wheel, we were a little too much to handle. I'm really glad I was wearing a skirt, too. I think we popped the rear tire and barely made it home. Poor pikipiki.
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