Different Worlds

I've made it past the two week mark on board the Africa Mercy - I like to think that's success all on its own.  It has been quite a transition to say the least.  Living on a ship with more than 300 people at a time is a bit different than my one bedroom apartment life that I was cruising through for the past year and a half.  Community meals, community meetings, community prayers, community...like I said, just different.
Orientation meetings, screening day, and just finding my way around the ship filled up the first week.  This second week I was able to get my first taste of patient care on D Ward and the ICU.  Then a group of us rounded out the week with a trip off ship to the "Gorge."  I feel as though I'm steadily finding my way and each day I am more convinced that this was the right decision.  I'm building lasting relationships, learning about new cultures, acquiring new tastes, and developing a new sense of self I never thought I'd have.

Nursing here on the ship is far from what I am used to back home in the States.  Over the last couple of years I've had the privilege of working in a handful of different hospitals which means I've worked with a variety of patients.  Although this is a blanket statement, I have decided that as a whole, individuals at home - including me - can learn a bit from some of the patients I've met on board.  Just the other day I was taking care of a patient who was in his early 30's.  He had surgery to remove a cyst like tumor from his head the day before and was recovering quicker than I had anticipated.  If I were home, the patient would most likely still be on bedrest with scheduled IV pain meds - which would be requested right on the dot.  This patient, however, reminded me how different things are here.  Not once did he complain, the scheduled pain med was Tylenol, and he was eating and drinking - no IV access, and walking around. 
Before I walk away from a patient, I always ask "Can I get you anything?"  Or "Do you need anything right now?"  The response I'm used to hearing goes something like this,  "Some more water, pain meds, and maybe another pillow" (in addition to the four the patient already has).  And there's usually that twinge of entitlement in their voice that adds a nice ring to the countless hotel requests.  So back to Africa, before I walked away from my patient, with the help of a translator I asked him, "Can I get you anything right now?"  He looked at me dumbfounded and replied, "Like what?"  I returned the confused look and couldn't quite come up with any words.  After a brief stuttering episode, I finally was able to form a sentence.  I said, "Are you comfortable right now, is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"  I received a slightly less confused look - like I had only 3 heads instead of 10 - and was told, "No, I'm fine" with a thumbs up. 
I walked away in awe.  I'm not in the United States anymore...

This past Saturday, a group of us went for a real off ship adventure.  Eleven of us wandered out of the port in search of a taxi bus that would take us to the "Gorge."  Apparently it was about 45 minutes away and was a bit remote so we had to make sure the taxi driver understood we wanted a ride back to the ship as well.  So we get to the area where all the taxi's congregate and manage to flag down a taxi bus - thankfully we had enough people to fill it so we didn't have to separate the group at all.  I stood back as I watched a couple people trying their hardest to negotiate prices (none of us were fluent in French).  Suddenly a day worker (a Congolese worker from the area that works on the ship during the day) appeared and helped our struggling group out.  We gave him quite the cheer when we saw him so I think he was more than happy to help us translate.  Once the driver agreed to take us, we piled into the taxi and put our trust in his hands. 



The drive was rather intriguing, we sped by fully developed buildings which turned into half finished cement houses followed by village areas consisting of shacks.  The curious looks we received from the people who lived in these homes were probably quite similar to the ones on our faces as we gazed out the windows.
After a toll and a random stop, we found our way to the Gorge.  For the first time since I've been here, I inhaled a breath of fresh air.  It was delightful.  We made our way through the trail and somehow managed to hike our way to the beach.  We slipped our toes into the sand, enjoyed a nice lunch and took in the familiar soothing view of the ocean. 

Once we had our fill we headed back to our starting point - hoping the taxi would return at 4pm as we had previously arranged.  Well, 4pm came and went...but we like to joke and say we are in Africa time - so we decided to give him a little while longer before we panicked about being stranded.  I mean, we didn't really have much choice anyway.  Shortly after, we heard the distant sound of a car horn - our ride was here!!! Another joyous cheer rang out among our group.  The ride back to the port was just as eye-opening as it was on the way to the Gorge. 

It's hard to wrap my head around everything - I'm only a passerby and I know very little about the Congolese way of life.  But I do know what life is like for me back home - I know what it's like to have a solid roof over my head.  I know what it's like to have three full meals a day with snacks that are bad for you in between.  I know what's it like to go to work and get a paycheck every week.  What is it like to be unaware of these privileges?  If it's never been an option, then are you missing out?  I've decided that there is a fine line between showing sympathy versus simply understanding the culture that I am surrounded by.  It's not necessary to feel sorry for somebody for something that is simply not part of their culture.  Instead, I have learned that showing others kindness and love and providing them with a sense of dignity is what makes the difference.  Now it's time to do just that.