Hospital Stay July 10, 2006
This past week has been emotionally exhausting and at times, terrifying. Beginning July 4th (happy 4th of July...) I spent 2 nights in a dirty hospital in Kisii trying to comfort Milton's cousin, Dada, who was so sick and weak I had to hold her up while going to the bathroom in the latrine. I've never seen a little girl cry so hard from the intensity of her pain. Dada, the wonderful little 14-year old who's lived with the Ochieng’ family since becoming an AIDS orphan a year ago, started having severe headaches on July 2nd. We thought it was just a really bad migraine- the poor thing was rubbing her head, crying, moaning and writhing in pain- but migraines don't last for more than 24 hours. When Dada developed a stiff neck after 48 hours of intense headaches, we decided she needed to be "rushed" to the hospital, fearing that it was meningitis (an infection of the meninges of the brain- needs to be treated ASAP because of the possibility of brain damage and death). The nearest hospital is in Kisii and takes about 2 hours (in a taxi) to get there. Taxis are incredibly expensive (about 20 times the amount a typical family spends in a day), and if this had happened to any other family (who wasn't able to afford a taxi) they would have been forced to just "wait out" the child's pain.
So we drove from Lwala to Kisii on the bumpy, dirt roads for 2 hours. Dada cried out in pain every time the car lurched on a rock or a hole in the ground. We were all silent during the taxi ride, scared to death- fearing that by the time we got to the hospital it would be too late.
We need the clinic to open.
When we finally arrived at the hospital, I was shocked that it was considered the best facility in this part of Kenya. Rather than receiving the emergency medical care that Dada needed, we waited another 30 minutes to be seen by a nurse. And then another 20 to be seen by a doctor. And by the time Dada was given any medicine whatsoever, we'd been at the hospital for about 2 hours. During the waiting period, I felt like I was going to explode- didn't they realize that this girl could be deteriorating by the second? We needed to be seen immediately- and nothing was happening.
The hospital is something out of a horror story. The dirty hallways wreak of formaldehyde, there's an injection room with bloody, open needles all over the floor (where Dada had her blood drawn), there are wards with 20 patients at a time lying in beds, many wasting away from tuberculosis and HIV- bony bodies, sunken eyes staring from their hospital beds, smelling of bed sores and urine... at one point there was human feces just sitting in the hallway outside our room. When we got there, the halls echoed with women crying and wailing; it was obvious that someone had just died. The crying women, the dark hallways filled with death and the smell of formaldehyde made me nauseous and dizzy. When we spoke to the doctor for the first time, he proudly mentioned (inappropriately) that the hospital had a full functioning morgue- just in case. Diana (the Vandy med student who came with Milton to Lwala) and I insisted that Dada have her own private room. We told Milton and his older brother Omondi that we didn't care how much it cost... we just didn't want her to be in a room with 20 other sick, coughing patients within 5 feet of her bed. It seemed like the hospital was a breeding ground for tuberculosis and various other infections. So Dada was put in a small room with an attached bathroom (Diana made us keep the door shut because every time she looked in the bathroom or smelled it she wanted to throw-up), two beds and a plastic chair.
After receiving 4 or 5 injections from nurses (who, by the way, didn't wear gloves while injecting), Dada stopped moaning. She asked if I would stay with her that night in the hospital (in her adorable, broken English)- she was so afraid and there was no way I was going to leave her alone. So for 2 nights, Dada, Sarah (Dada's 16 year old cousin.. also an AIDS orphan) and I shared a tiny hospital room together. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. I was awaken several times by people crying in the hallways whose loved ones had passed away during the night.
To make things worse, for about 24 hours we feared that Dada might be infected with the HIV virus. She has these random sores on her legs- indicative of HIV... I always thought they were just kid scars- and often times, a specific strain of meningitis arises as a result of a compromised immune system. I cannot describe the fear and lurching heartache I felt for 24 hours while we awaited her HIV test results- I'm not sure what I would have done if her test came back positive. Honestly, I was preparing myself for the worst, anticipating that I would cancel my return flight to the US to stay in Kenya longer in order to put her on antiretrovirals (HIV meds.. really hard to get in Kenya). Thank goodness, Dada is HIV negative. When the nurse delivered the good results, I breathed for the first time all day.
The hospital care was frustrating and at times, disgraceful. We were never informed of the medication that was being injected into Dada's sore arm. We had to hunt nurses down for more pain medication every 3 hours as Dada cried "ay yawa" over and over and over again. There is one doctor for the entire hospital and he works from 9-4 everyday. Once the doc leaves, there's no contacting him. I was so ready to get out of that hospital. After 3 days of it, I felt like I was almost going crazy. I wanted to shower, I wanted to be rid of the smell of formaldehyde (they cleaned the floors with the stuff.. almost suffocating us in our small room), I wanted to eat something other than the stale bread and peanut butter we bought at the local market and most of all, I wanted Dada to feel better.
Dada was diagnosed with a severe case of cerebral malaria and typhoid. She received a lumbar puncture in the scary hospital (a huge needle poked into her spinal chord to remove cerebral spinal fluid- a very risky and difficult procedure) and it turns out that she didn't have meningitis- thank goodness.
We discharged Dada after 3 days in the hospital and took her home to Lwala, where it's been just as (if not more) scary and worrisome caring for her. Dada was so weak that she couldn't eat or sit up on her own. Here was this sweet girl- with these great dimples- who I've become so close to the past 6 weeks (we cook together, play volleyball, sing together, tell crazy jokes, she teaches me Dholuo and I teach her English) lying in bed moaning because she felt so sick. I was so worried about her because she couldn't keep anything down- including her medication. She threw many times and I called my mom and dad in a panic more than once because Dada's vomiting had gotten so bad. A few nights ago, Milton and I stayed awake on the couches in the living room, tending to Dada all night while she threw up and had these strange convulsions in bed. We got about 2 hours of sleep that night and he left for the states the next morning at 6 am.
It's been a long week of caring for poor Dada, and just yesterday she started to walk again. I also saw her laugh this morning for the first time in a long time, so it seems as though she's getting better! We are all so relieved. Today Dada asked me to write down the words of 2 songs that I've been singing to her since she got sick. After about an hour or so, she had memorized both songs and has been singing them non-stop ever since (the songs are "Rose" – a camp song from Knighthood- and the "Chaquita Banana" song.. I sang it because it's really kind of stupid, and this one part always made her crack a smile… even when she was too weak to eat).
I'm just grateful she's okay.
Anyway, that's what my week has been like. It feels like an eternity ago that we rushed Dada to the hospital.
Oh and I just found out recently that there is now a new baby girl in Lwala whose name is… Abbie Oduko (spelled with the "ie" and everything). Her mom- my friend Anyango- had her a couple weeks ago. I met baby Abbie for the first time yesterday- she's so cute! She was wearing these awesome Halloween socks with pumpkins on them.
Also, I've had a few people ask how they can donate to the clinic. Donations are tax deductible and will go toward buying supplies and drugs for the clinic. We're also building staff housing soon. So if you were interested, here's the info:
Vanderbilt University (Lwala Community Clinic- Kenya)
Department of FinanceDept AT 403003
Atlanta, GA 31192-0303
make the check out to the "Lwala Community Clinic- Kenya"
Oriti for now-
Love, Abbie
So we drove from Lwala to Kisii on the bumpy, dirt roads for 2 hours. Dada cried out in pain every time the car lurched on a rock or a hole in the ground. We were all silent during the taxi ride, scared to death- fearing that by the time we got to the hospital it would be too late.
We need the clinic to open.
When we finally arrived at the hospital, I was shocked that it was considered the best facility in this part of Kenya. Rather than receiving the emergency medical care that Dada needed, we waited another 30 minutes to be seen by a nurse. And then another 20 to be seen by a doctor. And by the time Dada was given any medicine whatsoever, we'd been at the hospital for about 2 hours. During the waiting period, I felt like I was going to explode- didn't they realize that this girl could be deteriorating by the second? We needed to be seen immediately- and nothing was happening.
The hospital is something out of a horror story. The dirty hallways wreak of formaldehyde, there's an injection room with bloody, open needles all over the floor (where Dada had her blood drawn), there are wards with 20 patients at a time lying in beds, many wasting away from tuberculosis and HIV- bony bodies, sunken eyes staring from their hospital beds, smelling of bed sores and urine... at one point there was human feces just sitting in the hallway outside our room. When we got there, the halls echoed with women crying and wailing; it was obvious that someone had just died. The crying women, the dark hallways filled with death and the smell of formaldehyde made me nauseous and dizzy. When we spoke to the doctor for the first time, he proudly mentioned (inappropriately) that the hospital had a full functioning morgue- just in case. Diana (the Vandy med student who came with Milton to Lwala) and I insisted that Dada have her own private room. We told Milton and his older brother Omondi that we didn't care how much it cost... we just didn't want her to be in a room with 20 other sick, coughing patients within 5 feet of her bed. It seemed like the hospital was a breeding ground for tuberculosis and various other infections. So Dada was put in a small room with an attached bathroom (Diana made us keep the door shut because every time she looked in the bathroom or smelled it she wanted to throw-up), two beds and a plastic chair.
After receiving 4 or 5 injections from nurses (who, by the way, didn't wear gloves while injecting), Dada stopped moaning. She asked if I would stay with her that night in the hospital (in her adorable, broken English)- she was so afraid and there was no way I was going to leave her alone. So for 2 nights, Dada, Sarah (Dada's 16 year old cousin.. also an AIDS orphan) and I shared a tiny hospital room together. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. I was awaken several times by people crying in the hallways whose loved ones had passed away during the night.
To make things worse, for about 24 hours we feared that Dada might be infected with the HIV virus. She has these random sores on her legs- indicative of HIV... I always thought they were just kid scars- and often times, a specific strain of meningitis arises as a result of a compromised immune system. I cannot describe the fear and lurching heartache I felt for 24 hours while we awaited her HIV test results- I'm not sure what I would have done if her test came back positive. Honestly, I was preparing myself for the worst, anticipating that I would cancel my return flight to the US to stay in Kenya longer in order to put her on antiretrovirals (HIV meds.. really hard to get in Kenya). Thank goodness, Dada is HIV negative. When the nurse delivered the good results, I breathed for the first time all day.
The hospital care was frustrating and at times, disgraceful. We were never informed of the medication that was being injected into Dada's sore arm. We had to hunt nurses down for more pain medication every 3 hours as Dada cried "ay yawa" over and over and over again. There is one doctor for the entire hospital and he works from 9-4 everyday. Once the doc leaves, there's no contacting him. I was so ready to get out of that hospital. After 3 days of it, I felt like I was almost going crazy. I wanted to shower, I wanted to be rid of the smell of formaldehyde (they cleaned the floors with the stuff.. almost suffocating us in our small room), I wanted to eat something other than the stale bread and peanut butter we bought at the local market and most of all, I wanted Dada to feel better.
Dada was diagnosed with a severe case of cerebral malaria and typhoid. She received a lumbar puncture in the scary hospital (a huge needle poked into her spinal chord to remove cerebral spinal fluid- a very risky and difficult procedure) and it turns out that she didn't have meningitis- thank goodness.
We discharged Dada after 3 days in the hospital and took her home to Lwala, where it's been just as (if not more) scary and worrisome caring for her. Dada was so weak that she couldn't eat or sit up on her own. Here was this sweet girl- with these great dimples- who I've become so close to the past 6 weeks (we cook together, play volleyball, sing together, tell crazy jokes, she teaches me Dholuo and I teach her English) lying in bed moaning because she felt so sick. I was so worried about her because she couldn't keep anything down- including her medication. She threw many times and I called my mom and dad in a panic more than once because Dada's vomiting had gotten so bad. A few nights ago, Milton and I stayed awake on the couches in the living room, tending to Dada all night while she threw up and had these strange convulsions in bed. We got about 2 hours of sleep that night and he left for the states the next morning at 6 am.
It's been a long week of caring for poor Dada, and just yesterday she started to walk again. I also saw her laugh this morning for the first time in a long time, so it seems as though she's getting better! We are all so relieved. Today Dada asked me to write down the words of 2 songs that I've been singing to her since she got sick. After about an hour or so, she had memorized both songs and has been singing them non-stop ever since (the songs are "Rose" – a camp song from Knighthood- and the "Chaquita Banana" song.. I sang it because it's really kind of stupid, and this one part always made her crack a smile… even when she was too weak to eat).
I'm just grateful she's okay.
Anyway, that's what my week has been like. It feels like an eternity ago that we rushed Dada to the hospital.
Oh and I just found out recently that there is now a new baby girl in Lwala whose name is… Abbie Oduko (spelled with the "ie" and everything). Her mom- my friend Anyango- had her a couple weeks ago. I met baby Abbie for the first time yesterday- she's so cute! She was wearing these awesome Halloween socks with pumpkins on them.
Also, I've had a few people ask how they can donate to the clinic. Donations are tax deductible and will go toward buying supplies and drugs for the clinic. We're also building staff housing soon. So if you were interested, here's the info:
Vanderbilt University (Lwala Community Clinic- Kenya)
Department of FinanceDept AT 403003
Atlanta, GA 31192-0303
make the check out to the "Lwala Community Clinic- Kenya"
Oriti for now-
Love, Abbie
posted by abbie at 12:25 PM
1 Comments:
nice post, it's really interesting for me today, thx
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