This time our outreach was right on the ocean, next to a bunch of fishermen carving boats out of logs of wood, sewing fishing nets together, and setting out to the rough sea in these less than stable looking boats.
It was so hectic out there. So many people running around getting the boats ready, and our crew of obrunis with cameras really stood out and in a really negative way. I felt rude to be taking pictures of these people doing their work, no one comes to the US to take pictures of me, they come to the US to take pictures of the Grand Canyon and the Statue of Liberty. We also were in an area devoid of obrunis, and it was just a very uncomfortable experience all around.We headed back to the stifling-ly hot church for the day’s outreach. I helped Ernest again, kind of, by doing a pre-screen for reflexes and mature cataracts. They’ve become so easy to spot! Of course it helps that most of the pathology we see on outreaches is ridiculously advanced, it’s really very sad. One woman had such bad pterygium that it covered her entire cornea, requiring surgery to hopefully restore her vision. Another boy, only 25, had cataracts in both eyes so bad that he was fully blind (also sent for surgery).
I spent the second half of the day helping with dispensing. I had one patient try to bargain prices with me—they are set by UFS and only nominal fees. I had another girl try to get me to give her reading glasses even though she had no prescription, “I forgot to tell the doctor that I have trouble reading.” It was hard to say no, but I was certain she was bull-shitting.
Another bizarre thing during dispensing was that a lot of older women in traditional cloth outfits kept their money wrapped in cloth within the folds, and one even reached as deep as her underwear… which kind of made money-handling really disgusting, but don’t worry more than enough hand sanitizer is being used.
Day 3:
This day's outreach, ever farther and farther west, was in a surprisingly nice church. The town itself was as run down and poor as usual, but the church had stained glass windows, polished wooden benches, and a statue.
Again Alex and I were at visual acuity. People were doing well with the instructions because a lot of them were watching the ones before, but I also think some were able to memorize the beginning of the chart by their turn. Tricky. Also, the ones who showed up late had no idea what to do even when people came to help translate which was fairly frustrating.
At the hotel that night we watched a video on couching. I was wrong in an earlier post, it is a traditional healing procedure for cataracts, not for glaucoma. A needle is stuck in the eye (with no sanitation or anesthesia) and the lens is dislodged from its position and shoved into the vitreous fluid of the eye, rendering the person's vision irreparable. It was a pretty tough video to watch and it's sad that it's still fairly widely practiced here.
At the hotel that night we watched a video on couching. I was wrong in an earlier post, it is a traditional healing procedure for cataracts, not for glaucoma. A needle is stuck in the eye (with no sanitation or anesthesia) and the lens is dislodged from its position and shoved into the vitreous fluid of the eye, rendering the person's vision irreparable. It was a pretty tough video to watch and it's sad that it's still fairly widely practiced here.
Day 4:
In stark contrast to the beautiful church yesterday, today's church was tiny, dark, dirty, and right on a smelly roadway. We stopped to get breakfast at a street vendor. I got a styrofoam container (with napkin, spoon, rubber band, and plastic bag as usual) filled with rice, beans, shito (spicy), tomato-y sauce, pasta, and a hard boiled egg. I don't know if it was that or the array of fruits from the night before, but something didn't sit well with me. To make matters worse, the only toilets were out in the open in front of a billion kids staring at us and the urine made a nice layer on the floor and it smelled of manure. Needless to say I did not use that bathroom and the day was quite painful.
In stark contrast to the beautiful church yesterday, today's church was tiny, dark, dirty, and right on a smelly roadway. We stopped to get breakfast at a street vendor. I got a styrofoam container (with napkin, spoon, rubber band, and plastic bag as usual) filled with rice, beans, shito (spicy), tomato-y sauce, pasta, and a hard boiled egg. I don't know if it was that or the array of fruits from the night before, but something didn't sit well with me. To make matters worse, the only toilets were out in the open in front of a billion kids staring at us and the urine made a nice layer on the floor and it smelled of manure. Needless to say I did not use that bathroom and the day was quite painful.
On top of that, the dispensing station was outside the door and kids were crowding us and people from the street thought we were selling the eye supplies to anyone who happened to walk by like all the other vendors. We had to have the translators continuously back them away from us so we could have spaces for ourselves and the patients.
The highlight of the day, however, was when I was able to translate an interview. Some people
choose to do research projects while they are here, which I considered but I'm here for such a short time that I thought it wouldn't be worth it. The research usually involves interviews with the patient through a local translator. This time, since we were so close to the border with Cote D'ivoire, there was a family or two who had fled from their country due to the ongoing civil war.
I was able to help them all with instructions and medication use, and for one family I was able to translate their entire interview for Jonathan who was doing the research.
It was very interesting. They had fled for fear of being killed, and yet they were so happy and outgoing, it was hard to believe that they were going through such a tough time in their family.
We've learned a lot from the interviews in general as well through those doing the surveys. The toughest question for people to answer is how many people live in their home, they have to sit there and count it out. Not something most people in the US struggle with. They also mostly have corrugated steel roofs, lack electricity, and have never seen an eye doctor before--and if they have they used a hospital through their national insurance plan and were referred to another hospital that was too far away for them to access. These are answers from those at the outreaches, not necessarily representative of the city-dwellers.
Before our 5 hour drive back to Accra, we stopped for some street food and I got jollop which is spicy rice with fried plantains and chicken. Not sure what I was thinking since I was already sick...
It was very interesting. They had fled for fear of being killed, and yet they were so happy and outgoing, it was hard to believe that they were going through such a tough time in their family.
We've learned a lot from the interviews in general as well through those doing the surveys. The toughest question for people to answer is how many people live in their home, they have to sit there and count it out. Not something most people in the US struggle with. They also mostly have corrugated steel roofs, lack electricity, and have never seen an eye doctor before--and if they have they used a hospital through their national insurance plan and were referred to another hospital that was too far away for them to access. These are answers from those at the outreaches, not necessarily representative of the city-dwellers.
Before our 5 hour drive back to Accra, we stopped for some street food and I got jollop which is spicy rice with fried plantains and chicken. Not sure what I was thinking since I was already sick...
Great writing!
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