Health Camps and Another Poem

I have been reluctant to write and share on the blog up until this point. So much of what I have seen and experienced while here in Nepal is difficult to articulate and I worry that my words won't be able to truly express what I want them to. But for the time being, I am going to put that worry aside and share a bit about my experience.

I am now sitting in my hotel room in Khatmandou. Cathy and I left Baglung in a hurry to avoid not being able to leave the following day as there was a scheduled transportation strike to take place throughout Nepal. We were leaving to come back to Khatmandou to help with a medical camp that was being held on the weekend. Marella and Kristi remained in Baglung for a few more days, finishing up the placement and then heading to Pokhara where they would then leave for trekking. I decided against going trekking. Having not come to Nepal prepared for trekking (meaning no hiking boots, socks or even a heavy sweater!), I decided that trekking during monsoon season would be difficult enough, let alone trekking during monsoon season without being prepared, so I decided to forgo the adventure. (Turns out that the universe must have known what was to come- my time here in Khatamandou has seen me napping on and off while trying to fight a nasty cold- I am thankful for making the right decision and for the rest!)

As for the medical camp that Cathy and I attended, it was a highlight for me and I am thankful that I got to attend and experience it. It was the Dadikhot Bhaktapur Humanitarian Reproductive Health Camp and it was organized by MIDSON and Direct Relief. It was held in a small health post that was  quickly transformed into a women's health facility upon arrival. For two full days, many different reproductive and health screenings and treatments were provided. Nurses, doctors, and community health post workers and students worked together to provide essential health services to the women in the community. Basic health care services like blood pressure measurement was provided upon registration. Cervical cancer screening known here as VIA testing (visual inspection of the cervix using acidic acid), as well as follow up and referral for further treatment if necessary was performed and women lined up out the door to wait patiently in line to be examined. As well, examination and treatment of vaginal and cervical infections was performed and antibiotics were prescribed and given to those who required them. Uterine prolapse examination, diagnosis, referral and follow up was provided. Antenatal checkups and postnatal checkups were provided. IUD insertion and removal, as well as family planning counselling and health education were all provided to the women in need. There was also a pharmacy on site where vitamins, medications such as antibiotics, anti-fungals, and pain medications, as well as super cereal (for women and children and used for treating malnourishment) were handed out to those in need, free of charge and given out right then and there.

It was interesting to see how efficient and organized the entire camp was. Before it began, I wondered how it would all work out, being held in such a small space and all, but I was amazed to see that it
did. Many women came the first day and even more on the second day when word spread around the community that the camp was being held. Women patiently awaited their turn, taking turns holding each other's babies so they could be examined. Everyone patiently waited in line to receive their prescriptions. The small health post was packed full of people, inside and out! It was a success.

Cathy wrote another poem and I wanted to share it here. Cathy and I had an amazing evening with Rashmi and her son, Sagan, who welcomed us into their home for a delicious meal and then took us on a walk about, sharing with us stories and history. It was a beautiful evening. Rashmi shared a story with us, which sparked a poem from Cathy:

The Beginnings of a Midwife:
for Rashmi
1958

A small child, wearing woven cotton clothes
plays with her sister on temple steps;
the father performs puja in the ancient shrine.
A woman strains under heavy load, the doka full of
firewood,
through cobble streets, to rest by the temple.
Sweat streaming
Backache pulsating
She kneels
and with a small groan, almost a sigh
A small wet infant slips out onto warm clay tiles.
The small child, eyes wide, creeps forward, watches the
placenta emerge.
The new mother asks for mustard oil
Drinks slowly from a bronze bowl
And rises, wraps the infant and placenta in her shawl
And moves toward her village.

~Cathy Ellis

I have so much more to say about my time here in Nepal but for the time being I will leave it at this post in the hope that the words I need to express myself fully will eventually come to me so that I might be able to share some of it in the future. All I know is that my heart feels both heaviness and lightness and a great uncertainty as to how to reconcile it all.