Breakfast in the morning, and the kitchen
As I continue to struggle with the language, I try to take advantage of any free time to study Spanish. This morning I am feeling particularly ambitious and get to clinic at 5.30 a.m. Calla bought me the Rosetta Stone, which I have come to love. I spent this morning studying the preterit tense as the sun rose over Estancia.
Calla ambles up to the clinic about an hour later shouting salutations to anyone who will listen. Neal arrives shortly thereafter, and we begin the morning routine, i.e. cleaning the clinic. The place is clean by seven and breakfast follows. Today is my favorite, oatmeal with fried plantains.
The clinic opens at eight. My first patient is a girl that I already know. Two weeks ago she came in with an infected toe that required an incision and drainage. Today, she has a cold, but her toe looks fantastic. She leaves 30 minutes later with Tylenol, multivitamins and a toothbrush.
The next patient is a 6 month old girl with a fever. When it comes to patients, there is no one that I fear more than a newborn. They are so delicate and precious. The girl´s mother took her to another clinic 2 days ago. The doctor diagnosed her with pneumonia, gave her 2 days of amoxicillin, an antibiotic, and told her to come back in 2 days. Instead, the mother came to CAIPES because it was closer. This situation makes me uncomfortable. I had not seen the girl before, so I could not tell if she was better. I need help and decide to call Dr. Kasper, a pediatrician from Harvard. She makes herself available to the volunteers for consults. Given that the baby lacks any signs of serious respiratory disease, we decide that she does not need to go to the hospital. Since the clinic has run out of amoxicillin, Dr. Kasper recommends an appropriate alternative. I feel comfortable sending the baby home, knowing that the decision was made by an attending pediatrician and not by a medical student.
The following patient is 17 years old and 3 months pregnant. After babies, pregnant women are the second most terrifying patient population. This woman has headaches. I am nervous that she might be developing a serious disease of pregnancy called preeclampsia. Fortunately she has no other signs of the disease and her physical exam was normal. Nonetheless, I am not feel comfortable sending her home solely based on my opinion. I call Dr. Tresler, a family physician from Texas. He agrees that her headaches are most likely an isolated problem and not linked to a more serious disease like preeclampsia. He recommends that she get some basic lab tests to be more certain. I write her a laboratory reference and ask her to return once she had the results.
The remainder of the day passes rather uneventfully. At 2.30, Calla and I head for Jaime´s house. He is a 6 year old boy with cerebral palsy. He lives about 30 minutes from the clinic in a sugar cane shack with a dirt floor. It is sad to see him and think about what his life could be like with adequate medical care. Instead, without speech therapy he can barely speak, without physical therapy he cannot walk, with occupational therapy he cannot even hold a pencil properly. Jaime applied to enter kindergarten last year but was denied access due to his disability. The clinic is rallying around this boy. The director of our NGO is formally petitioning the school to admit him. School starts in January, so our job is to to do all we can to get him physically ready. We spend time reading, drawing and walking. Jaime is a great kid. We will be updating the blog over the next few months with his progress.
From the Annals of Learning Spanish as a Second Language
When asking to pay for our coffee the other day I said: Yo quiero pegarle, which translates into: I want to hit you.
When I first started to see patients at the clinic and wanted to ask them about their bowel movements I said: ¿ Su bebe esta cagando normal?, which translates into: Is your baby sh#@€ing normal? Thank you to Calla for correcting this problem.
Calla ambles up to the clinic about an hour later shouting salutations to anyone who will listen. Neal arrives shortly thereafter, and we begin the morning routine, i.e. cleaning the clinic. The place is clean by seven and breakfast follows. Today is my favorite, oatmeal with fried plantains.
The clinic opens at eight. My first patient is a girl that I already know. Two weeks ago she came in with an infected toe that required an incision and drainage. Today, she has a cold, but her toe looks fantastic. She leaves 30 minutes later with Tylenol, multivitamins and a toothbrush.
The next patient is a 6 month old girl with a fever. When it comes to patients, there is no one that I fear more than a newborn. They are so delicate and precious. The girl´s mother took her to another clinic 2 days ago. The doctor diagnosed her with pneumonia, gave her 2 days of amoxicillin, an antibiotic, and told her to come back in 2 days. Instead, the mother came to CAIPES because it was closer. This situation makes me uncomfortable. I had not seen the girl before, so I could not tell if she was better. I need help and decide to call Dr. Kasper, a pediatrician from Harvard. She makes herself available to the volunteers for consults. Given that the baby lacks any signs of serious respiratory disease, we decide that she does not need to go to the hospital. Since the clinic has run out of amoxicillin, Dr. Kasper recommends an appropriate alternative. I feel comfortable sending the baby home, knowing that the decision was made by an attending pediatrician and not by a medical student.
The following patient is 17 years old and 3 months pregnant. After babies, pregnant women are the second most terrifying patient population. This woman has headaches. I am nervous that she might be developing a serious disease of pregnancy called preeclampsia. Fortunately she has no other signs of the disease and her physical exam was normal. Nonetheless, I am not feel comfortable sending her home solely based on my opinion. I call Dr. Tresler, a family physician from Texas. He agrees that her headaches are most likely an isolated problem and not linked to a more serious disease like preeclampsia. He recommends that she get some basic lab tests to be more certain. I write her a laboratory reference and ask her to return once she had the results.
The remainder of the day passes rather uneventfully. At 2.30, Calla and I head for Jaime´s house. He is a 6 year old boy with cerebral palsy. He lives about 30 minutes from the clinic in a sugar cane shack with a dirt floor. It is sad to see him and think about what his life could be like with adequate medical care. Instead, without speech therapy he can barely speak, without physical therapy he cannot walk, with occupational therapy he cannot even hold a pencil properly. Jaime applied to enter kindergarten last year but was denied access due to his disability. The clinic is rallying around this boy. The director of our NGO is formally petitioning the school to admit him. School starts in January, so our job is to to do all we can to get him physically ready. We spend time reading, drawing and walking. Jaime is a great kid. We will be updating the blog over the next few months with his progress.
From the Annals of Learning Spanish as a Second Language
When asking to pay for our coffee the other day I said: Yo quiero pegarle, which translates into: I want to hit you.
When I first started to see patients at the clinic and wanted to ask them about their bowel movements I said: ¿ Su bebe esta cagando normal?, which translates into: Is your baby sh#@€ing normal? Thank you to Calla for correcting this problem.
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