Last night at 11:59 was the deadline for the completion of the new constitution. The government had requested another 6-month extension a few days before that, and the request was denied. A lot of people thought that they would pull something together at the last minute, but they announced last night that they had not been able to agree on the most contentious issues, and therefore the current government (known as the Constituent Assembly, or CA) is dissolved, though I think they may remain in quasi-power until the elections, which are set for November 22. What the next 6 months will look like nobody knows. And then it will be the job of the newly elected CA to write the constitution. Will it be a repeat of the last 4 years? Time will tell. For now things are reasonably quiet in the country. No protests have been reported yet. We'll see if things settle back to "normal" for awhile now, or what happens. If you're interested, here is one article that describes the situation somewhat, though I must say that news reporting in Nepal leaves something to be desired, and nobody really knows what's going on.
Life at the hospital seems to be more or less normal at the moment, with the usual volume of patients. I did have one man admitted when I was on call the other day who had been burned when he tried to drive his truck during a bandh and the protestors poured gasoline on his truck and set it on fire. Fortunately most of the burns are pretty superficial. But that's the sort of thing that happens when you break the protestors' rules. If you behave yourself they generally leave you alone. A few days ago we'd been told to be prepared for a curfew to be imposed at any time, in case things got out of hand around the constitution deadline. But that doesn't seem to have happened.
I was on call on Saturday, and had a busy day but a quiet night (which is a nice way to have it). The day started with an emergency C-section, and then we took a guy to the OR who'd had some kind of tractor accident and mashed up his hand. The resident and I worked away at it for awhile, cleaning the ends of his broken bones, cutting away dead/dirty tissue, and trying to find the ends of his tendons that had been severed. In the end I was feeling way over my head (hands are complicated!), and decided that, especially because of his high risk of infection, we should just wash, control the bleeding, splint it, keep him on antibiotics, and come back the next day with another (more experienced) surgeon to try to fix things. Which was just as well, because yesterday the other surgeon and I took him back to the OR, pinned his broken bones, and in the end decided that his tendons weren't fixable right now. So we put him back in the splint, and we'll probably send him to the leprosy hospital in Kathmandu later for a reconstruction. They are experts at tendon repairs and grafts there - they do it all the time for their leprosy patients.
Later on Saturday evening, a little 6-month-old baby came in. He had weighed 2.5 kg at birth, and weighs only 3 kg now. He'd had surgery at birth to form a colostomy because of a congenital problem that left him without an anus. Apparently he'd been doing okay (though not gaining so much weight) until 15 days ago, when he started getting sick and showing signs of bowel blockage. On further questioning, it turns out that his mother's breast milk supply hadn't been adequate, so he'd mostly been drinking buffalo milk for the last few months, which could explain his malnutrition. He was very sick when he came in - dehydrated, his belly really distended, and skin and bones. His bowel isn't completely blocked, and he certainly isn't in any condition for an operation right now - he wouldn't survive it. We are trying to get him some nutrition, but it's tough when he keeps vomiting. Things don't look too good for this little one. I pray for him every day when I go by. His young, hopeful mother, keeps looking at me and asking if it will be okay. I tell her we are trying, but that his condition is very serious, and that we need to keep praying. She nods every time I say that.
I must confess that most of the time I feel out of my comfort zone in one way or another. The language is a challenge, though thankfully there usually is someone around who can help me with translation when I get stuck. I share a lot of smiles with my patients and their families when I try to speak Nepali with them and fumble for one word or another. I'm thankful that most Nepalis are gracious and friendly, and most seem to appreciate that I try to communicate with them. Then, of course, there are more medical/surgical problems that I'm not familiar with than those that I am familiar with. It keeps me on my toes, for sure. The other day the resident and I were doing a tendon repair and pin fixation of a broken bone on another injured hand. We were both kind of fumbling our way through it. Thankfully our nurse that day has been a nurse in the OR for 23 years, and he has seen a lot of these sorts of surgeries. He basically walked us through it! It can be very unnerving to know that in a lot of the things I'm doing here, where I'm supposed to be the supervising and "in charge" physician, the nurses and the residents have more experience than I do! But if you can get over that, swallow your pride, offer the expertise and thoughts that you do have, but listen to their suggestions, it can be very rewarding. The other day I thanked the resident I'd been on call with for his help, and he said, "No, thank YOU for your teaching." I'm thinking, "Teaching? What teaching??" And I said, "Well, I teach you some things, you teach me a lot of things." To which he responded, "No, you teach like a senior doctor, the way I need to be taught. I just help you with the things I know because I've been here doing this for the last 1 1/2 years, but you have a lot to teach me." That's the kind of attitude that will make for a mutually rewarding working relationship!
I'm still taking Nepali lessons, but only once a week for a couple hours. Between studying Nepali, reading up on the many surgical things I need to read up on, building relationships here, and maintaining long-distance communication and wedding planning with my man in Mozambique, I'm being kept pretty busy. It's a bit of a roller coaster ride at times, but I'm thankful to be here, and thankful for all the prayers and support of people here and back home, without which I'm sure I wouldn't last long.
Life at the hospital seems to be more or less normal at the moment, with the usual volume of patients. I did have one man admitted when I was on call the other day who had been burned when he tried to drive his truck during a bandh and the protestors poured gasoline on his truck and set it on fire. Fortunately most of the burns are pretty superficial. But that's the sort of thing that happens when you break the protestors' rules. If you behave yourself they generally leave you alone. A few days ago we'd been told to be prepared for a curfew to be imposed at any time, in case things got out of hand around the constitution deadline. But that doesn't seem to have happened.
I was on call on Saturday, and had a busy day but a quiet night (which is a nice way to have it). The day started with an emergency C-section, and then we took a guy to the OR who'd had some kind of tractor accident and mashed up his hand. The resident and I worked away at it for awhile, cleaning the ends of his broken bones, cutting away dead/dirty tissue, and trying to find the ends of his tendons that had been severed. In the end I was feeling way over my head (hands are complicated!), and decided that, especially because of his high risk of infection, we should just wash, control the bleeding, splint it, keep him on antibiotics, and come back the next day with another (more experienced) surgeon to try to fix things. Which was just as well, because yesterday the other surgeon and I took him back to the OR, pinned his broken bones, and in the end decided that his tendons weren't fixable right now. So we put him back in the splint, and we'll probably send him to the leprosy hospital in Kathmandu later for a reconstruction. They are experts at tendon repairs and grafts there - they do it all the time for their leprosy patients.
Later on Saturday evening, a little 6-month-old baby came in. He had weighed 2.5 kg at birth, and weighs only 3 kg now. He'd had surgery at birth to form a colostomy because of a congenital problem that left him without an anus. Apparently he'd been doing okay (though not gaining so much weight) until 15 days ago, when he started getting sick and showing signs of bowel blockage. On further questioning, it turns out that his mother's breast milk supply hadn't been adequate, so he'd mostly been drinking buffalo milk for the last few months, which could explain his malnutrition. He was very sick when he came in - dehydrated, his belly really distended, and skin and bones. His bowel isn't completely blocked, and he certainly isn't in any condition for an operation right now - he wouldn't survive it. We are trying to get him some nutrition, but it's tough when he keeps vomiting. Things don't look too good for this little one. I pray for him every day when I go by. His young, hopeful mother, keeps looking at me and asking if it will be okay. I tell her we are trying, but that his condition is very serious, and that we need to keep praying. She nods every time I say that.
I must confess that most of the time I feel out of my comfort zone in one way or another. The language is a challenge, though thankfully there usually is someone around who can help me with translation when I get stuck. I share a lot of smiles with my patients and their families when I try to speak Nepali with them and fumble for one word or another. I'm thankful that most Nepalis are gracious and friendly, and most seem to appreciate that I try to communicate with them. Then, of course, there are more medical/surgical problems that I'm not familiar with than those that I am familiar with. It keeps me on my toes, for sure. The other day the resident and I were doing a tendon repair and pin fixation of a broken bone on another injured hand. We were both kind of fumbling our way through it. Thankfully our nurse that day has been a nurse in the OR for 23 years, and he has seen a lot of these sorts of surgeries. He basically walked us through it! It can be very unnerving to know that in a lot of the things I'm doing here, where I'm supposed to be the supervising and "in charge" physician, the nurses and the residents have more experience than I do! But if you can get over that, swallow your pride, offer the expertise and thoughts that you do have, but listen to their suggestions, it can be very rewarding. The other day I thanked the resident I'd been on call with for his help, and he said, "No, thank YOU for your teaching." I'm thinking, "Teaching? What teaching??" And I said, "Well, I teach you some things, you teach me a lot of things." To which he responded, "No, you teach like a senior doctor, the way I need to be taught. I just help you with the things I know because I've been here doing this for the last 1 1/2 years, but you have a lot to teach me." That's the kind of attitude that will make for a mutually rewarding working relationship!
I'm still taking Nepali lessons, but only once a week for a couple hours. Between studying Nepali, reading up on the many surgical things I need to read up on, building relationships here, and maintaining long-distance communication and wedding planning with my man in Mozambique, I'm being kept pretty busy. It's a bit of a roller coaster ride at times, but I'm thankful to be here, and thankful for all the prayers and support of people here and back home, without which I'm sure I wouldn't last long.









