Redefining the word "emergency"

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Not quite as rural, but I almost feel like I am on an episode of ER in the Congo. Except there is no Dr. Carter at my side and no director yelling “Cut!”-- this is the solo, real-life adventure I always wanted. And I’m realizing that it’s not as fun laughing to yourself as it is constantly sharing those laughs with others. Still good, as Owusu says, but not the best. However, with a fever, nausea and a running stomach, I am not in the highest of spirits anyway.

Most of the time in Ghanaian hospitals, in emergency departments especially, it’s B.Y.O.Everything: bed sheets, water, food, toilet paper, even the bags and bottles of medicine for your I.V. This was one crucial detail I was not aware of as I dragged my lethargic body to join the queue at the University Hospital. Luckily, Daniel was getting discharged for malaria just as I was being “detained” (that’s what they call you if you will only be here temporarily for meds, not admitted to the main ward), so he brought my drugs and a Coke, before running off to the campus theater for Opening Night of his play.

A steady flow of visitors followed, but none of them stayed as the other patients’ families did. At the end of the day, people can only do so much for someone who isn’t quite family. And I understand, but it’s difficult when the nurses are not at your service, besides starting you on a drip. I guess this is a test of my asking-for-help weakness, as you literally have to shout for assistance that is a whole room away. Becky would be here I am sure if she knew. She is in Togo buying a new stock of panties to sell and I thought it best to keep her oblivious to my illness.

As the night grows darker and hums louder with crickets and toads, sleep falls upon the dimly lit ward. A single cranky nurse snores on a bed of chairs between the two half-empty rooms, unable to be reached over the high volume of her TV. The antibiotics and flood of saline has left me wide awake, and unfortunately, the peace doesn’t last; it is disturbed by moaning, screaming, wretched sounds of people vomiting in the toilet. A possible case of appendicitis is ignored by Fat Cranky Chairs, though the woman is sounding like she’s been stabbed. Finally she stumbles outside to throw up and the nurse chuckles, preparing injections to knock her our until morning.

The power goes out periodically, but that only means it gets a little hotter without the fan and more peaceful, without the loud noise of Nigerian movies.

There must be a reason that this never happened the first time I was in Ghana, when my support network was more solid and closely knit. There must be a reason that I am not suddenly healthy but the opposite. Though I came with the intention of being on the other end of the needle, here I am, palms up, eyes glazed with the florescent light, vulnerable like all the others in this tropical clinic full of metal beds colored by the bright cloths of sick women.

But the more I think about it, the more I can see how it is important to be the patient before you become the nurse, and to experience the health-care here first hand. I will see this as one more vivid surprise in the Ghanaian fabric of my mind, adding to my ever-expanding picture of Africa.

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Photos

Nurses Owusu & Emmanuel
my busy student friends stop by after their clinicals to make me smile

Comments

[Allison]

Awww Tay get better!!! Sorry you're sick :(

[shelley]

Oh Tay, I can't believe you didn't go to the private hospital you put me in when I was there, but NO QUESTION you are there to live the raw experience from the ground up. No obruni fluff for you my sweet brave girl. But you get Owusu! And for that I am deeply envious. I know my hospital stay was a hilarious highlight of my visit-- but then you stayed in my room 24/7 and I had all the comforts of home. Hopefully you'll have more humorous than horrible memories of this incredulous experience. Just next time (which hopefully wont be!) go to the damn private hospital and shell out the $40/night fee!!!! Love n Miss you! Mom