Tro-Tro's have taken on a new title: All Terrain Vehicles!

As the blog title suggests, the 1950's death-trap tro-tro's have taken on an entirely new identity this week: All Terrain Vehicles (ATVs). We have travelled from Woe to Ho (where the other CCS house is located) to do a portion of our program stay here from Wednesday night until Sunday afternoon. The house in Ho is located at the top of a huge hill and I was unpleasantly surprised to learn this by waking up to the tro-tro on a 45 degree tilt in van-high grass. To get to the house, the tro tro must climb this huge hill on a road that is made of small boulders (not rocks, boulders) in van-high grass. Needless to say, it was quite the introduction to Ho.

Before I get into the new news, I'll catch you up on the events of this past week. First, an update on the unidentifiable aspects of Ghana: the "heat rash" (as I call it) has faded from the neck and arms and has travelled to my tummy and legs. Still there and still unidentifiable. The Aussie has acquired another rash on her foot and a few others have stopped caring about the condition of their legs and feet. Thus far, I have not been afflicted by any giggas but the I performed a bit of microsurgery on the Aussie last night for her first gigga. Not to gross you all out, but it was mildly disgusting (that is coming from a nursing student). The gigga, for those of you who have not done your homework on giggas, is a weird bug that burrows into your foot (usually the toes), and lays eggs. When the eggs hatch, you feel it begin to itch or hurt. To dig it out, we flame some tongs (or try to sterilize them as best as possible) and essentially... dig it out. It's much like popping a huge pimple and once you've penetrated the gigga, the mother and all her eggs fall out. Again, mildly disgusting, which is why I choose to wear shoes. Since last night I have been officially named, "the Gigga Picker."

I started my placement at Keta Government Hospital last week but did not have enough news to report about it the last time I was on email. It has all been incredibly frustrating, sad, exciting, perplexing and mystefying thus far. Each morning I wake up to the rooster, make myself some breakfast, get dressed and walk to the road to catch a tro-tro to work. I usually arrive at the hospital at about 8:30am. I have been working on the Children's ward the past 5 days or so but unfortunately, the ward has been empty. Now that may sound odd to say "unfortunately," because at home, if the Children's ward was empty, that would be a great thing! No sick children! But in Ghana, it is much different. To have an empty Children's ward is not a good thing, as there are many sick Children but because the families cannot affort the $10/year health insurance, they do not bring their children in. And if they do, it is saddening to say, but often it is too late. On Monday there was one child, Tuesday there were none and Wednesday there was again one child but much much too ill to practice nursing. The hospital itself is very limited in it's resources (and that is even a generous statement). I find it very frustrating to nurse here because there are no resources. None. To find some gauze to do a dressing change would be like digging and finding a gold mine. Thermometers are non existant, BP cuffs are archaically old (and most likely inaccurate), and any other supplies going above and beyond that are more of a lofty thought than anything. So as you can imagine, it is difficult to assess and aid patients when the resources are not there. I often go home at the end of the day wondering what I can do to help out. Sometimes the depth of the poverty in our area seems so grave and so overwhelming but confusing, as you can hop on a tro-tro and find those same people who are rejected from the hospital (for not having the money), singing and laughing on the drive. So at this point in my placement, I feel more lost than anything...

In the time that there are no children on the ward, I follow around a Nigerian doctor named Dr. Olu. It is such a refreshing change to chat with a health care professional who speaks fluent English (that is also another problem at the hospital: the language barrier). I have gone to Maternity wards, Outpatient Departments, the "theater" (Operating Rooms), and the Isolation ward and have seen many cases ranging from malaria to Tuberculosis and HIV. He explains cases and treatments to me but as I have observed, even he has trouble performing his duties. With no resources and no tools for assessment, he relies heavily on the health history and makes a diagnosis from there. I'm sure that many cases of malaria are not really malaria but when a patient has a fever, they are automatically started on malaria treatment. As you could imagine, many illnesses can have the symptom of fever.

So that roughly explains the hospital - resourceless, language barrier, and very ancient but despite all that, I am still really enjoying it. It's challenging and even though many of the young children that come through the hospital do not speak English, smiley face stickers, paper airplanes and puppets are universally fun! I'll update more on the hospital after next week...