First Full Day

In the morning the patients are ready for us. They are lined up outside the hospital doors. A resident asks me to scrub in on the first operation -- a gall bladder removal. I "retract" which means I hold these long metal scoops in the body to pull the muscle facia out of the way to enable the surgeons to better see what they are doing. At one point I have my hand inside the body. The surgery lasts a couple hours. My arms and back feel the tension from holding the retractors. It is hard work. I'm sure if I was a pro at this I would know how to hold in a way that would cause less muscle strain, now I rely on brute strength. While I am holding retraction, the surgeon on the other table asks me to translate what his patient is saying as they induce him to sleep. He says, he's feeling sleepy, I say.

After the operation, I help clean up, emptying the bloody suction canisters, then find myself repeatedly being called on to translate. I can handle most translations easily, the type where I repeat a medical person's commands to a patient or conduct a simple interview, but when they answer rapidly with a prolonged answer, I am sometimes lost. A couple times I have to go find one of the Dominicans to assist.

During lunch, some children have found their way to the back window by the supply room where we have a cooler of water, bannanas, and peanut butter and ham and cheese sandwiches. They call in to us, to get us to talk to them or give them food. We have been warned not to talk to them here or give them anything because if we give it to one, there will soon be a swarm, demanding the same. It is hard not to talk to them. One of the translators, a high school girl, gives them some of her sandwich and talks to them, they immediately start making kissing sounds and telling her they love her.



Later in the afternoon I help the two nurses in pre-op put together IV sets, attaching stopcocks and extensions to the drip sets. They ask me if I know how to do it, I nod, and mention I do it as a paramedic.

That night I wander about the camp siting with various groups. The doctors seem the most laid back. This is a vacation for them. They can practice for the pure joy of practicing. There is no paperwork, no lawyers, no regulations, just pure taking care of people. I listen to them tell stories about the hassles of the American medical system, their fights with insurance companies to get paid, and the rising cost of malpractice. Two of the OBY/GYNs have quit delievering babies due to the exhorbitant premiums.

The nurse anesthetists sit together going over their game plan for the next day and talking shop. They seem the most intense of the group. They have the most to prove, plus in many ways the most responsibility. In many ways they are as misunderstood as paramedics. They are not just nurses who intubate. They do spinal taps, push medicines, and constantly monitor the patient.

The nurses and OR techs seem fairly happy go lucky. Their conversation is more about their families than work.

Many of the doctors have brought college age children, some destined for medical school. They serve as translators and general helpers, as well as scrubbing in on many of the surgeries. They dissapear on long walks.

The Dominicans sit together and play dominoes or talk quietly.

It is nice to have quiet evenings like this. No TV. No hectic bustle.

I sleep well this night.