Two
cups of white flour + 1/2 teaspoon salt + a little oil + a frying pan = a
recipe for chapitas. Chapitas are one of the many delicious Kenyan dishes I
have had the opportunity to enjoy during my time with the PFC team. As Moses
talked to me about the different ingredients that come together to make this
food a success to my stomach, it made me think more about today’s activities
with the team.
Today
Samantha, Mfon, and I, continued to do a variety of activities related to the clinic’s
operations. Like a mother and father determined to get treatment for their sick
child, Mfon and Dr. Vincent traveled to a district hospital far away in order
to take Stephen to meet with a pediatric specialist. Yet, even after navigating
the many twists and turns of trying to get care in a fragmented healthcare
system, Stephen would have to come back next Friday to be seen by the
physician. In the meantime, he was sent home with medications designed to begin
to address some of the medical signs and symptoms that he has (although his
underlying diagnosis is still unknown); his weak system did not well tolerate
this treatment regimen. At the sight of his distress, my heart was as shattered
as the pieces of vomit he spewed across the floor, containing the very
medicines that were supposed to help him feel better.
Samantha
and I remained at the clinic with Charles and Peter where we both had a chance
to see the extent of their selfless community health outreach to the Marurui
slum. Using Vanna White from Wheel of Fortune gestures, we assisted them both as
they used a visual teaching cube to educate the residents present, who were all
mothers and wives with various levels of literacy, about HIV/AIDS and malaria prevention.
They also talked to the women about how to use plastic bottles and UV rays from the sun in order
to kill the many microbes present in the water supply that commonly make their
families and themselves sick with illnesses (e.g. typhoid
fever). After the training, Samantha stayed with Charles in the clinic, and I
accompanied Peter to the slum to assess patients.
Amidst
a backdrop of a bright Kenyan sky, I examined a few patients who lived in homes
as small as my former college dorm room with no electricity, running water, or an
adequate sewage system (unless you count the brown-green puddles that little
children used as a playtime outlet). Many of the patients were infants, who
were most likely suffering from the same gastrointestinal diseases about which Charles
and Peter had used the morning time to educate residents in prevention efforts.
Although I was able to transmit my patient encounters back to Dr. Vincent in
real-time, the lack of a consistent wi-fi connection delayed his receipt of
this information. I couldn’t figure out if my heavy heart resulted from this
delay that affected patient care or my realization of what a normal day is like
in Marurui for its mothers, fathers, and children.
Upon
returning to the clinic, my ears were met by the sounds of ferocious typing.
Both Samantha and Charles were working to reenter the hundreds of medical
records of non-Sana patients that were lost due to a computer virus. My heart sank
upon hearing this statement. If only these patients, like the patients whose
care had been initiated using Sana, had electronic medical records on an open
source system, this loss of critical medical information necessary to manage
patients effectively and accurately would have been avoided. The dependency of
the clinic’s use of paper and pencil would also be minimized.
Brokenness
+ Heaviness + Despair = a recipe for the feelings of my heart for today. Yet, I
realize that by combining the electronic medical records and Sana technology
with the committed spirits of PFC members like Charles and Peter, my feelings
can be sprinkled upon this situation. Such feelings will help reinforce my
determination to support the PFC center. Now, that sounds like a recipe for
success.
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