The next few days at the project site went a little like this.
Wake up to the sound of either a rooster or someone chopping firewood around 6am. Tea, breakfast, tea, 10 minute hike uphill to the hostel, tea, lots of painting and, tea, more painting.
In order to paint the forty or so beds, we first had to attempt to remove the rust...wait for it...with sandpaper. My clothes, face and arms were lucky to receive a nice copper hue ten minutes into that task. Also to my dismay, I learned that kerosene could double as a hand washing agent to get the paint off one's skin. Anyways, you learn something everyday.
If anyone remembers me when I was a kid and can recall the way I eat ice cream, you're in luck because let's just say I paint in quite a similar fashion. For those of you that did not have the privilege, try googling kids eating ice cream under images, but even those really don't do me justice. Regardless, let's just say I was highly flammable after a full day of painting.
Another one of my favorite tasks was mud plastering the wall. It was a provocatively therapeutic mess. For those of us adults who have not had the chance to get extremely dirty in the past year, I highly recommend it and especially for us training to be in pristine white coats for the rest of our adult lives. Seriously, get that med school aggression out on making mudpies and then throwing them at a rock wall. Didn't like CMBM or SPOM? Throw a mudpie at it. Yep, that should do the trick. As a kid, I remember sitting under a swingset on a rainy day and making mudpies with my neighbor Jessica. Engaging in play is considered of vital importance to a healthy child's development. I'm under the impression that it's vital for healthy medical students as well. Kids have creativity in their very core. No one has ever told them how to solve a problem before, so they have to be creative and figure it out on their own. I'm convinced doctors must be able to keep that same level of creativity if we are to solve the problems currently facing medicine. I'm pretty sure making mud pies and throwing them at walls would really help alleviate some stress and free up some mind space for creativity. No? You don't think so? That sounds nuts? Long tangent? I'm okay with that.
Okay- enough of my rant on mudpies and the like- I just highly enjoyed the activity- and it was a workout too!
After a couple of days of work, I was lucky enough to be able to check out the health post!
This was one of those tests of patience, mindfulness, and compassion: a common exam for volunteers abroad. To be clear, passion is completely different than compassion. Passion is something most American medical students are full to the brim with. However, it is also something that can get one into trouble, something that can lead us astray if we do not check ourselves and our peers. It is a fire that can have the capacity to harm if we are not careful. Passion is regenerated in us by selfishness whether we like it or not. We may be passionate with good intentions to rectify a social injustice, but it burns in order to fight and win and prove a point. The fire continuously cultivates itself in us until, well, I'm not sure, we win? Compassion, on the other hand is authentic empathy. It is the exchange of our energy from one to another without needing gratification for our egos. I think the differences are probably deeper than that and more complex, but I do think that cultivating compassion within ourselves is more difficult than passion as passion might come from ego gratification and stays with us, while compassion comes from empathy and is only given to others. You can not really give your passion to others, but you can give compassion to others. And then, once you give and spread your supply of compassion for a full day, or when your circumstances place you in a whirlwind where compassion is needed, what happens if you become drained, or run out? How does it become regenerated? Just food for thought.
These are the questions that came post-health-clinic. This was my thought process after I listened to my first lungs in a 3 year old with pneumonia, after I was being asked to do things I knew I did not have the skills for, after feeling helpless. I was told that once you have 18 months of medical training, especially in a rich country like the United States, that I was considered a doctor in this isolated region of Nepal. While the opportunity to interview patients left a great impression on me, I know the deeper problem involves systems. It is unjust that the access to ADEQUATE care is far from possible in rural Nepal. How could I be a best option? This was absurd.
Let's back up a second. All of this occurred while I was injured, and my level of compassion was shamefully only half full. It was a 30 minute hike to the clinic. If you have ever seen me figure skate, you're lucky. You have seen me at my most graceful, because that's where my grace lies- on the ice and only on the ice. Other than that, I walk like a reindeer with a chromosome abnormality, and I'm pretty much okay with that at 24 years old. Point being, I'm not graceful and I trip a lot.
Here's how it went down. Walking, walking, trip over a branch, right hand occupied by my bag, left hand occupied by my rain jacket, no hands free, and I went straight down like a cartoon character on a pile of rocks. Faceplant. Pretty glorious to say the least. Therefore, I got the privilege of being treated at the clinic I was going to "help" at. Welp, everything happens for reason. I at least got to use my own first aid kit as not to take away their supplies. As embarrassing as it was, it was still an eye-opener.
Back to the story- I was being pressured to do things I knew in my heart am not qualified to do, all with two swollen knees and a left arm that was actively still bleeding. Compassion was running dry simultaneously as frustration with my own capabilities and with the inequality that existed in the world came creeping in.
Luckily, I met the most interesting patient just at the brink of feeling like a total failure. 62 y/o male comes in complaining of joint pain. He simultaneously had a huge gash on his left forearm. He had been attacked by a bear on his walk home that he was convinced robbed him. (I know, what?) He had an enormous smile on his face that consisted of about 13 teeth. Severe osteoporosis and malnutrition were visible by his cheekbones alone. However, his enthusiasm for his life story just allowed compassion to override any frustration I had felt that day.
After a few hours at the clinic, I limped home, where I was self-dubbed Hajuraama...but that's a different story. Stay tuned.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Get your game face on
Per landing in Kathmandu, I was whisked away into car with Tendy from The Small World (the Nepali NGO with whom were partnered). As soon as I had cleared customs, about twenty Nepalis or so had tried to carry my bag, sell me water, or pretty much do anything at my bidding in order to earn a Rupee note. Even though it's not the first or probably last time I'll land in a similar situation, it's still a reminder to get my game face on. Everyone wants a Westerner's money, but with a smile and no Dhanyabad, you should be able to stay in the clear. The game face by the way is not the game face of a football player about to face off in the Superbowl. No, not that kind of game face. This face is one that will ward of those relentless efforts from those wanting your money yet will also allow you to keep your sanity through a prolonged period of time. Think of it this way: if your game face which is designed to protect you is cold and harsh and caracterizes one who is going into battle, well, as the fable has it, it might get stuck that way if you keep it on too long- and three weeks of that kind of gameface would definitely leave some wrinkles- so one needs to adjust the game face.
This game face is welcoming...yet still sends a message that money is not coming out. But it's important to note that it's one of warmth. Yes, twenty people are after my money. Yes, they are all trying to rip me off. But the way I've attempted to train my game face is hopefully one of compassion- one that says- yeah- if I were in your shoes, maybe I'd try and rip off white people too- because let's get real, I probably would. Anyways, it's extremely important for anyone considering travelling in Asia to get a game face. It's important in order to be able to keep your money but also keep your sanity. It's like a semi-permeable membrane in a way. You want to keep some stuff in (like the money and valuables) but you still want to spread and let in warmth to connect with anyone no matter where you are or the circumstances.
Anyways- the game face comes back later, and so does this idea of a semi-permeable membrane. (Yes, I am a medical student so I tend to compare everything in life to cells and the human body and illnesses; there is just no escaping it anymore - I'm officially a nerdfighter - but I'm pretty sure I've always been one.)
Moving on, Tendy dropped Ann, the 17 year old rockstar volunteer from Colorado, and I at the hotel in Kathmandu where we both passed out for about 10 hours. The real adventure was to start the next day.
5:30am we were up and had a delicious breakfast of white bread and jam and then headed right back to the airport where we would wait for our flight to the Solu-Khumbu (Lower Everest) region of Nepal. The airport we were flying out of was nothing like any airport you've ever seen- but just wait for the one we land in. Check in consisted of us dropping our backpacks into a pile of other luggage, walking through a "metal detector" and then hanging out watching our pile of luggage move on to get ready for boarding. Because it was monsoon season, we were informed flights are canceled all of the time and hence, we waited about two extra hours before taking off because they needed to essentially deflood the runway.
The plane was a tiny 18 seater, and I sat in the back row with Tendy. It was by far the most turbulent yet exhilarating flight I have ever been on. I could feel every gust of wind and every turn of the wheel. Not to mention, the view over the Himalayas was something to feast my eyes upon. After 45 minutes of lush mountains, valleys and waterfalls, we approached Paplau "airport." This was a dirt runway on the edge of a mountain where if the pilot had not gauged it precisely, we would have glided right off the mountain into oblivion.
We were greeted by Karma and a group of high school volunteers from Shoulder to Shoulders who looked simultaneously bright eyed and weary as they were headed back to Kathmandu, and I knew it was time to once again get my game face on. After a brief orientation by Karma and his wife, Sonam, about the project site, TSW, and what we were to expect the next two weeks, we hiked about an hour and a half to the project site. During the hike, I was the equivalent of a sponge: soaking up the new sounds of mountain village life, the new terrain, the sites of the valleys. It was breathtaking. We were literally walking in the clouds. There was not a motor vehicle in sight. Men and women were carrying goods on their backs in huge baskets that they held up with their foreheads. These were called Namlos, and we were informed that porters will carry sometimes between 25-35kg on their backs for long treks. Two weeks later and every time I see a man half my age or three times my age, my jaw still drops.
After the hike, we reached the project site. Quick note on the project. Edge of Seven has teamed up with The Small World (TSW) to help fund sustainable and community driven projects that help empower girls to lift their communities out of poverty within their generation. This particular project is the building of a hostel for 40 11th and 12th grade girls so that they have a pace to live and continue their education. 7/10 Nepali girls do not make it to college (grade 11 and 12) because the colleges are located sometimes a few days walk from the girls homes. The girls are also discouraged from attending school because they would be leaving their families which means losing a part of the family's workforce. They would then be spending money to rent a room without adequate living capacity solely to finish 12th grade. Afterwards, they are still left without tangible skills to bring back to their isolated communities. The hostel, which is partly funded and built by Edge of Seven's American volunteers will really start to turn the tide for the girls and their communities. Not only will the hostel be a living area, but it will be a place for vocational training, life skills training, confidence building and health workshops- not to mention a place of community and a place where girls are encouraged to dream up dreams they were previously not permitted to.
Upon arriving at the project site, I immediately breathed in a gust of kindness and humility as I was greeted with Namaste after Namaste (literally meaning I greet the divine within you). Here, I met Kacey, a 21 year old volunteer from Colorado, and Ram, the project manager of the site and the liaison between the volunteers and the skilled workers. After a couple of hours of "leveling" (carrying blankets worth of mud from a high part of the ground to a lower part of the ground) and 2-3 cups of tea, it was time to meet our host family.
Ram took Ann and I to meet our family which consisted of Buwa (father), Aama (mother), the oldest Didi (Pashi-16), the younger Bahini (Nema-14) and the youngest brother or Baai (Tashi-8). We had a delicious cup of du-chiaa (milktea), headed downstairs to pack, and then returned upstairs for one of the most memorable dinners of my life.
Point of information- everyday between 9-10am and 6-7pm, the power is out.
It was about 6:30pm when we went upstairs for dinner. The wooden large rectangular eating room and kitchen was just barely lit by the fire burning in the corner under the stove. At the opposite side of the room were two benches aligning the walls facing each other with corresponding tables. We sat at the table on the right side and faced the one on the left. That is when we saw it.
Cue the Bullfighting music.
There she was... Hajuraama (Grandma). A few missing teeth in her warm yet terrifying smile, as she held a sharp hook-like knife. Ann and I looked at each other puzzled. She then went into her knapsack and pulled it out. The largest femur bone I have ever seen... and she just started hacking at it. At this point, my host family wasn't aware I was a vegetarian, but I was just in way too much culture shock to say a word. Then Buwa smiled at the femur bone and then back at us. He said, "Buffalo!" And there the buffalo went... right into the soup.
It was time to get my game face on.
Dinner was a little awkward to say the least. I ate the buffalo, quickly, and then even more quickly shoveled in some rice to hide the texture. My family looked at me like I was an alien, but I was determined to be a good guest and be a part of Edge of Seven's Clean Plate Club (CPC).
This game face is welcoming...yet still sends a message that money is not coming out. But it's important to note that it's one of warmth. Yes, twenty people are after my money. Yes, they are all trying to rip me off. But the way I've attempted to train my game face is hopefully one of compassion- one that says- yeah- if I were in your shoes, maybe I'd try and rip off white people too- because let's get real, I probably would. Anyways, it's extremely important for anyone considering travelling in Asia to get a game face. It's important in order to be able to keep your money but also keep your sanity. It's like a semi-permeable membrane in a way. You want to keep some stuff in (like the money and valuables) but you still want to spread and let in warmth to connect with anyone no matter where you are or the circumstances.
Anyways- the game face comes back later, and so does this idea of a semi-permeable membrane. (Yes, I am a medical student so I tend to compare everything in life to cells and the human body and illnesses; there is just no escaping it anymore - I'm officially a nerdfighter - but I'm pretty sure I've always been one.)
Moving on, Tendy dropped Ann, the 17 year old rockstar volunteer from Colorado, and I at the hotel in Kathmandu where we both passed out for about 10 hours. The real adventure was to start the next day.
5:30am we were up and had a delicious breakfast of white bread and jam and then headed right back to the airport where we would wait for our flight to the Solu-Khumbu (Lower Everest) region of Nepal. The airport we were flying out of was nothing like any airport you've ever seen- but just wait for the one we land in. Check in consisted of us dropping our backpacks into a pile of other luggage, walking through a "metal detector" and then hanging out watching our pile of luggage move on to get ready for boarding. Because it was monsoon season, we were informed flights are canceled all of the time and hence, we waited about two extra hours before taking off because they needed to essentially deflood the runway.
The plane was a tiny 18 seater, and I sat in the back row with Tendy. It was by far the most turbulent yet exhilarating flight I have ever been on. I could feel every gust of wind and every turn of the wheel. Not to mention, the view over the Himalayas was something to feast my eyes upon. After 45 minutes of lush mountains, valleys and waterfalls, we approached Paplau "airport." This was a dirt runway on the edge of a mountain where if the pilot had not gauged it precisely, we would have glided right off the mountain into oblivion.
We were greeted by Karma and a group of high school volunteers from Shoulder to Shoulders who looked simultaneously bright eyed and weary as they were headed back to Kathmandu, and I knew it was time to once again get my game face on. After a brief orientation by Karma and his wife, Sonam, about the project site, TSW, and what we were to expect the next two weeks, we hiked about an hour and a half to the project site. During the hike, I was the equivalent of a sponge: soaking up the new sounds of mountain village life, the new terrain, the sites of the valleys. It was breathtaking. We were literally walking in the clouds. There was not a motor vehicle in sight. Men and women were carrying goods on their backs in huge baskets that they held up with their foreheads. These were called Namlos, and we were informed that porters will carry sometimes between 25-35kg on their backs for long treks. Two weeks later and every time I see a man half my age or three times my age, my jaw still drops.
After the hike, we reached the project site. Quick note on the project. Edge of Seven has teamed up with The Small World (TSW) to help fund sustainable and community driven projects that help empower girls to lift their communities out of poverty within their generation. This particular project is the building of a hostel for 40 11th and 12th grade girls so that they have a pace to live and continue their education. 7/10 Nepali girls do not make it to college (grade 11 and 12) because the colleges are located sometimes a few days walk from the girls homes. The girls are also discouraged from attending school because they would be leaving their families which means losing a part of the family's workforce. They would then be spending money to rent a room without adequate living capacity solely to finish 12th grade. Afterwards, they are still left without tangible skills to bring back to their isolated communities. The hostel, which is partly funded and built by Edge of Seven's American volunteers will really start to turn the tide for the girls and their communities. Not only will the hostel be a living area, but it will be a place for vocational training, life skills training, confidence building and health workshops- not to mention a place of community and a place where girls are encouraged to dream up dreams they were previously not permitted to.
Upon arriving at the project site, I immediately breathed in a gust of kindness and humility as I was greeted with Namaste after Namaste (literally meaning I greet the divine within you). Here, I met Kacey, a 21 year old volunteer from Colorado, and Ram, the project manager of the site and the liaison between the volunteers and the skilled workers. After a couple of hours of "leveling" (carrying blankets worth of mud from a high part of the ground to a lower part of the ground) and 2-3 cups of tea, it was time to meet our host family.
Ram took Ann and I to meet our family which consisted of Buwa (father), Aama (mother), the oldest Didi (Pashi-16), the younger Bahini (Nema-14) and the youngest brother or Baai (Tashi-8). We had a delicious cup of du-chiaa (milktea), headed downstairs to pack, and then returned upstairs for one of the most memorable dinners of my life.
Point of information- everyday between 9-10am and 6-7pm, the power is out.
It was about 6:30pm when we went upstairs for dinner. The wooden large rectangular eating room and kitchen was just barely lit by the fire burning in the corner under the stove. At the opposite side of the room were two benches aligning the walls facing each other with corresponding tables. We sat at the table on the right side and faced the one on the left. That is when we saw it.
Cue the Bullfighting music.
There she was... Hajuraama (Grandma). A few missing teeth in her warm yet terrifying smile, as she held a sharp hook-like knife. Ann and I looked at each other puzzled. She then went into her knapsack and pulled it out. The largest femur bone I have ever seen... and she just started hacking at it. At this point, my host family wasn't aware I was a vegetarian, but I was just in way too much culture shock to say a word. Then Buwa smiled at the femur bone and then back at us. He said, "Buffalo!" And there the buffalo went... right into the soup.
It was time to get my game face on.
Dinner was a little awkward to say the least. I ate the buffalo, quickly, and then even more quickly shoveled in some rice to hide the texture. My family looked at me like I was an alien, but I was determined to be a good guest and be a part of Edge of Seven's Clean Plate Club (CPC).
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
And so it continues
Although it's a new beginning- a new trip, new country, new everything, it's really just a continuation of last year. New moments, but same reality. It's almost like I took a break from real life just to go to medical school for a year and am now returning to an unknown that still feels more like home than Philly sometimes does.
Let me begin with a quick story of how this trip is just me getting back in line with the universe and continuing with where I left off last year but with a little more textbook knowledge up my sleeve. Last year, I made it a habit of sitting next to really wise older men whenever I was being transported from one location to another. Well, the pattern continued with my flight from Fankfurt to Delhi. I had the privilege to sit next to the Vice Chairman of Neurology from University of California San Fransisco, Dr. Lowenstein. That conversation may have been the most reassuring conversation I could have asked for as I was heading into the unknown once again. It was so exciting to meet someone who has been through the whole medical school process before, who is also a change-maker and a teacher. Not to mention, he's had a go with global health and was more than encouraging and open to my ideas for global health and my integrative perspective on medicine. It's really not every day you get a go ahead for some "out-there" and traditionally unmentioned ideas in medical school from someone in the field, so let's just stay I felt that much more confidant stepping off the plane.
Let me begin with a quick story of how this trip is just me getting back in line with the universe and continuing with where I left off last year but with a little more textbook knowledge up my sleeve. Last year, I made it a habit of sitting next to really wise older men whenever I was being transported from one location to another. Well, the pattern continued with my flight from Fankfurt to Delhi. I had the privilege to sit next to the Vice Chairman of Neurology from University of California San Fransisco, Dr. Lowenstein. That conversation may have been the most reassuring conversation I could have asked for as I was heading into the unknown once again. It was so exciting to meet someone who has been through the whole medical school process before, who is also a change-maker and a teacher. Not to mention, he's had a go with global health and was more than encouraging and open to my ideas for global health and my integrative perspective on medicine. It's really not every day you get a go ahead for some "out-there" and traditionally unmentioned ideas in medical school from someone in the field, so let's just stay I felt that much more confidant stepping off the plane.
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