Oct 6, 2008

“This is a story all about how my life got turned a little up side down”

So yesterday was Sunday—should be a day of rest. But I wanted to feel productive So I did some laundry, fixed my compost pile (my attempt to make it chicken proof) and began cutting some small pieces of Cassava so I could experiment with a graft (grafting two species of cassava together to increase the plants overall yield).
But before I begin, I want to mention that these chickens are driving me CRAZY, they come into the garden (they are small so they find small openings in my fence) and have killed numerous plants, clawing at the sandy soil (which can get really dry in the afternoon sun)—Its been a constant battle to keep them from completely destroying anything I’ve planted.
8:30am
So …I’ll continue…I start cutting little pieces of cassava, they need to be small and have a clean cut in order for the graft to take.
I cut a piece and its wasnt a clean cut, I moved it inward on the cutting board so I could try again. I bring my ansty back (a universal tool-think clever). As I came down I heard the sound of rustling leaves behind me, which broke my concentration-thinking “Those damn chickens are in my garden again.”
*Wack!*
I feel a sting and adrenaline kicks in…
First thought: Fuck! You Idiot! You Fucking Idiot…I just cut your thumb off!
After realizing my thumb was still in one piece .
Second thought: Fuck! You Idiot! You just cut the tip of your thumb off!
I wasted no time—shaking, I ran inside and grabbed my med kit. It looked bad…blood was dripping everywhere…….I wrapped it and applied pressure….as I was trying to locate my telephone (my site does have cell phone reception now—although it doesn’t always work). Eventually finding it I tied my phone numerous times but no signal. Thoughts raced through my mind…
Is it really that bad? When I cut myself before (that’s right this is my second time), it looked real bad at first but once the bleeding stopped, it turned out only to be minor. …maybe this was the same…
Should I go to Mahatalaky? (the center of my commune has a hospital.) If I go…how? It’s a Sunday and a strong wind (no lobster trucks are running today) Should I bike? It was starting to get hot.
I paced my house for 3 hours pondering these questions and more. I checked my wound twice hoping that each time it would look just a little bit better than before—of course it didn’t.
Sosony (my counter-part) finally arrives from his brother’s funeral a half-day walk from my village. I apologized and told him I cut myself…he quickly gave me his phone…at which point we contacted Lala (runs the environment program for my NGO) who suggested I go to Mahatalaky. The phone goes dead in mid-conversation. I rush back to my house, grab a few things and throw them in my backpack. Sosony comes walking over and I tell him that I should be returning later that afternoon. He helps wrap my thumb up tight. While we wrap he mentions that two people died yesterday in St. Luce while fishing and one was family. I pause and let out a big sigh, he finishes the tape and says “don’t worry about it, get to Mahatalaky quick.” I jump on my bike and go!
It’s now 12:30 and Hot!
As I bike the 15k to Mahatalaky. Thoughts continue to pop in and out of my head…First, this could have been a lot worse. Second—still trying to stay positive- maybe its not all that bad….I start to wonder about the Hospital…maybe the inside is a lot nicer than the outside. This country does continually manage to surprise me….Maybe the doctor is well educated and speaks English.

1:10 I arrive in Mahatalaky.
I try to buy some credit for my phone first, thinking it would be good to call Lala back or my PCMO (Peace Corps doctor). No one has any credit to sell me. ..
I walk into the hospital (a house) and take a seat at a rusty table and the female doctor (doesn’t speak English) removes my wrapping. I try and make light of the situation—telling them how I was farming Bella Hazo and how I’m not very good with a big knife. She takes cotton and cleans the wound, but in the process she manages to re-open it, causing it to bleed again. She lets out a sigh and says that we will need to cut it off….at which point I say….What!….Hold on here!….
I suggest we just wrap it, which she does and I start looking for a phone to call Peace Corps. The hospital didn’t have a phone, but she directed me to a house about 3k away that sites on a hill, where on clear days you can get cell reception from Ft. Dauphin.

As I approach the house, the family come out and greeted me. I tell them that I need to get phone reception and they point to a tree on the side of the house. I climb the tree and a few bars appear on the phone. I try and call and I loose the signal.
They finally invite me inside (realizing my desperation and frustration) and point to a basket hanging on the wall in the corner of the room. When the phone is placed directly in the basket I got a few bars. Thus, I’m standing in some strange family's house, interrupted their meal, talking into a basket (a bit odd). I don’t think these words give justice to how crazy the situation really was. ..
I finally get a hold of Dr. Bruce (PCMO) and after about 40 minutes of phone tag, he thought it would be best for me to make my way to Ft. Dauphin and than to Manambaro (a town 20k outside). They might be able to apply stitches (allowing me to save a tip of the thumb). My NGO gets a car but its about 1 hour and 30 mins away. I start biking thinking that any time saved can only help the situation. It’s now 2:00pm

As I bike I keep getting constant calls….Bruce, Lief (PCPD), Brett (runs my NGO), Rita (Volunteer in Ft. Dauphin), Eric (the driver of the car sent to pick me up). I bike about 20k and get picked up. The time is now 3:30pm

I car rushes to and through Ft. Dauphin. Finally arriving at Manambaro at 4:30pm
I get my thumb looked at be the nurse who, in a much more professional manner (it could be the atmosphere—no doubt still a third world hospital, but had funding through a Church) told me that the cells were dead and I would have to get it cut.
The Doctor finally appears. He takes me to a dark back room and tells me to have a seat on an old in-patient bed. He examines my cut, tells me its not all that bad, re-cleans and wraps it, and tells me that Jesus loves me (again Church funded).
They gave me a few pain killers and some anti-biotics for the night (both Ok with DR. Bruce PCMO) and they told me to return tomorrow when the pharmacist would be in so I could get the rest of my meds (it was a Sunday).

I get to Ft. Dauphin at 6:30pm.
Tell my crazy story a few times, eat a cup of rice, and pass-out.

5:00 am my watch alarm goes off and I start walking to the Taxi Be Station.
I’m able to get in the first full Taxi Be (they don’t leave until full, thus very unpredictable. Full means 4-5 in each a bench seat and 2 in the trunk of a very old car).

I arrive at 7:30 am and meet the two nurses. After a few minutes of small talk they invite me to go to the morning service at church (again Church funded hospital). I thinkWhy not?…Jesus love me…or so I’m told...thus I go to church.

The service ends at 8:30 am. I finally get my meds and pay my bill from yesterday.
But this story doesn’t end…

While picking up my medicine my original doctor, accompanied by another doctor, came and told me they wanted to see me again.

I went back into the examination room and one of the doctors takes another look at my thumb. Realizing the tissue was dead, he pulled out a pair of scissors and cut the dead tissue and nail. It hurt! and bled again. He placed my small piece of thumb on the table, cleaned and bandaged me up, while calling the name of the other doctor. When a few minutes passed and the other doctor didn’t arrive, he told me to have a seat in the corner of the examination room. It got awkward because he started invited and treating other patients while I waited. For 30 minutes I sat through the cleaning and repacking of what I think was three deeply infected wounds of three different patients.

When the other doctor finally arrived, he picked up the small piece of thumb examined it for a minute and handed it to me saying I could keep it as a gift and that I was finally "done."

So to wrap up this long story, I am on antibiotics and a painkiller (although I’m in very little pain). I have a “prescription” to get me thumb re-cleaned and re-bandaged every two days at a hospital in Ft. Dauphin. But because I had a small piece of thumb removed (in a local hospital) Peace Corps is sending me to Tana so I can be examined by the PCMO. Under normal situations a trip to Tana would be great, but I didn’t bring anything (not even a change of cloths) when I left St. Luce on Sunday, which adds more stress to an already stressful situation.

I was examining my “gift.” It’s a small corner of my thumb and a large portion of nail—I think the nail will grow back and the cut was on an angle, so it’s hard to predict what it will look like when it finally heals. I did not hit bone, and I can still move and I have feeling. I was VERY lucky!

Overall, this was a valuable learning experience….. Ill keep you posted...