Can't complain with this view. Currently at the beach, obvs. And now able to have a leisurely contemplation of this past week, without taking into account creature comforts and illnesses.
So about Sabana Grande, our community. It is about 5 hours north of Managua, high up in the mountains near the Honduran border. This particular community has a longstanding relationship with an NGO called Grupo Fenix, which has been working with community and US partners to promote solar energy. Most houses have some solar panels - enough to power one or two light bulbs, and some homes have solar "kitchens" aka ovens. Otherwise, the kitchens have varying degrees of ventilation, which is bad for respiratory health because they burn wood for fuel. Most families have multiple generations and several species of animals living together- cats, dogs, chickens, turkeys, pigs, cows. One or two families have televisions. Nearly every family as at least one cell phone. Our cell phone carrier is Claro (there are 2 major carriers in Nicaragua it seems), and they must have realized that the best means of advertising is through the cell networks so we are bombarded by promotional texts - e.g. you can win a Toyota Hilux! Buy minutes for 50% more today!
So speaking of the chickens, the roosters are out of control up here. They start crowing around midnight and don't really stop until well into the morning. Usually it begins with a distant cock-a-doodle-do which then starts a chain reaction with all of the nearby roosters. Sarah and I have conjectured that our family's rooster is going puberty as his squawk sounds a bit off, like he can't get the cadence right.
Rural medicine is challenging. Rural medicine in a developing country like Nicaragua is really challenging. We rotated with the local docs at their main clinic in Totogalpa as well as our "local" clinic in Sabana Grande. So the local/rural clinic in the community consists of 3 exam rooms and a room that they call a pharmacy, which is stocked weekly by the doc and nurses who come a few times a week. The first day of the week that the clinic is open begins with cleaning out the dirt and critters that have accumulated over the past week (this week we had a bat, several geckos, which were actually left mostly in peace). Then the patients line up for either "consulta" or "control" visits, e.g. urgent care-ish doctor visits vs immunizations with the nurse. We (Kay and I) saw 18 in 2 hours one morning, which is what can happen when you only have to chart the patient's information, diagnosis and write out prescriptions on scraps of paper. Most people don't have their own charts, and many forget even their ID cards. Lots of diarrhea (which is more likely parasitic than not- huge mental shift), headache, backache, allergies. Our greatest inadvertent booboo was giving metronidazole vaginal tablets thinking they were oral tabs.. hey we were just learning our way around the pharmacy, and dispensing our own meds (until they ran out anyway)! Clinic trash is thrown out in a pit outside. There is no running water, no thermometer for temps and otherwise we take our own vitals.
At the Totogalpa clinic, patients are vitaled and they have paper charts. So we saw a bit more chronic disease management... and the clinic ran until it got too dark to read the chart, because there was no electricity. There is a maternity center across the way where ladies come to nest prior to delivery, at about 39 weeks. Every night they all walk over to clinic to be checked to see if anyone is in labor, because if so, the clinic doc on call stays overnight.
There is a group of engineers from Dayton University here working on a solar autoclave, who plan on staying all summer. Apparently the university has been sending students for several years, and encourage global missions- it's a Catholic university ... so lots of folks around the solar center which has become our home base. We tend to hike down in the mornings (flushing toilets with seats are a big draw!) and also meet for a delicious plate lunch accompanied by a cold glass of juice (papaya, passionfruit, orange combo). As plentiful as the mangos are in the area, somehow we don't eat a lot of them... but we do eat the gigantic avocados which have a lovely mild taste (people have talked about importing these puppies to the US as our puny avocados look and taste like pale imitations). Oh and the coffee... delish.
I am looking forward to this next week when first year med students and my psychiatry colleagues join us- the more the merrier! And on that cheery note, I shall sign off for now. Until my next wifi access...
a chronicle of food, work, travel, feelings, but mostly food. always food. no longer a scutmonkey, but I can still dream...
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Enough complaining.
Friday, May 25, 2012
This is what paradise looks like...
Absolutely luxuriating in Leon at a fine hotel for the weekend. With our own toilet and shower with HOT WATER!!!!!
Survival!
Rural village survival tip#246: shut your head lamp off when using the latrine at night and you will attract less flies in the face as you try to do your bidness.
Next survival tactic to master - how to avoid getting bitten so much??! I think I can safely assume that I am getting bitten while in bed, given the locations of some bites - e.g. midriff, back, thighs which are always covered and actually, technically are with my jammies. Bed bugs mayhaps?
So. I survived my night of fevers, chills and vomiting. So now what? Hallelujah, we are going to Leon today so will be sleeping in a hotel with A/C and private bathrooms. I really do think, as Kay said yesterday, that though my heart is into this work, I just don't have the body for it (see bug bites and all manner of GI issues after 4 days here for further reference). Jungle vs Me... jungle 4- me 0.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
I might be dying.
I cannot sleep. I'm having chills in tropical monsoon weather which is not a good sign. I am also trying very hard not to vomit. In my delirium of twilight sleep a few minutes ago, I somehow convinced myself that it was my job to stop feeling nauseated so that someone could get a nausea contract through.
Sarah has graciously shared her gallon plastic bags if it should come to it, as it is still pouring outside as it is wont to do most nights here.
I don't think I could want to go home any more than right now. If I don't make it, (insert histrionicity here) I hope that Andy and my family know how much I love them.
Monday, May 21, 2012
The best of times, the worst of times
Forty eight hours ago, I was in a food coma after the best meal of my life at a 2 Michelin star restaurant, luxuriating in a spacious Jacuzzi tub in a lovely hotel room, accompanied by my loving husband of five years. Currently, I am sans hubby, lying awake in a creaky wooden bed listening to the torrential rain pouring down on the tin roof of this concrete hut, literally praying for God to ease my troubled traveler's bowels. Thinking back, I could have been more thoughtful about this transition to Nicaragua.
My host family seems very nice - nine members and three generations under one roof. My host mother patted my arm sympathetically today as she caught me coming back (again) from the latrine, aka concrete hole in the dirt, and told me she hoped I wouldn't have to go out in the rain. That makes two of us.
I find myself extremely grateful for small mercies - a functioning mosquito net, Imodium, and the fact that the 15 year old that I am chaperoning, for whom this trip is the first international experience, is sleeping soundly in the bunk next to me with no signs of illness. She is also adapting possibly more readily than me to this rural environment despite speaking and understanding very little Spanish.
Sabana Grande is a rural mountainous village in the northern part of Nicaragua, near the Honduran border. I will be here for 17 more days. Our baths will be from a bucket of unpurified water, and the humidity must be in the 80s or 90s. I have no access to electricity at the house. This is certainly not saying much, but I have never been this physically uncomfortable. I am not sure that I am made of strong enough stuff to thrive here. This will be my come-to-Jesus/Survivor/de-entitlement moment. Pray for me.





