Choosing Scrubs Over Bikinis

My first official full day back at Red Cross Children’s Hospital was (of course) a busy outpatient Wednesday. My first full day back in April was also one of these overwhelming Wednesdays. Even though the census was much lower than usual (10 inpatients and 6 outpatients), it was a fairly heavy load for two people. Caroline and I began taking note of the patients set up for procedures when Prof (head surgeon of pediatrics and a loyal fan of child life) invited us to a presentation on “Egyptology”. Not only is it poor manners to turn down Prof’s invitations, it becomes less more obligatory when he adds, “it is important to educate the Americans”. So Caroline and I attended the interesting, educational, but barely relevant seminar. In addition there were also many big players in pediatrics in attendance. Caroline pointed many of them out to me as the crowd settled in.

Caroline and I made it back to C2 (the burn unit) just as they were beginning procedures. I immediately fell into the pace of C2; children were rushed in, handed off, cleaned, bandaged, soothed, and removed…and so the cycle goes. The instantaneous love for the children of South Africa poured over me just as it did on my first visit months ago. Their eyes are so stunning; so soulful. It is easy to surrender to them. One patient was a tiny baby, my guess is 4 months old but I am also way off when I try to guess their ages (as well as the pronunciation of their names). As it often happens, the mother handed me the baby and left the room. The wounds were to her (his?) head and left arm so I immediately positioned her in the perfect comfort hold: close to my chest with her wounds exposed for the sisters to work. The baby calmed almost immediately and stared up at me with tear soaked eyes. I thought, ‘little one, you are far more brave and resilient in your few months than I have ever been in my 27 years.’

I also had what I have dubbed a “Snapshot Child Life Moment”. A little girl (with no nappy I can confidently say it was a girl) of about 3 was getting her hands bandaged. She was reacting as any 3 year old would when your mom leaves the room and you are left with some strangers to touch your very sore wounds. I took out my bubbles and (as it does in most cases) the crying ceased. The little girl looked up at the rainbow colored globes falling around her and giggled. She smiled at me with a single tear just below her right eye. That moment; that picture is the epitome of child life: turning tears to smiles.

I had a number of other positive interactions, some heartbreaking ones and even some comical ones. Like when I gave an 8 year old boy a small squeezable (American) football. Making conversation and proud to teach him something about America I asked him if he knew what kind of ball it was. When he nodded “no” I told him it was a football. I continued pointedly that it wasn’t a soccer football, but an American football. He and his dad laughed then exchanged some Afrikaans with the sisters. I then heard the sister tell him in English, “it’s a rugby ball” before they chuckled some more. My translation: “Americans don’t know anything about sports. It’s a rugby ball.” Laughing, I decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Moments later I presented the ball to Caroline and said, “So if anyone asks, this is a RUGBY ball.”

I was so happy to be back at RCCH and working with the staff and children. It is fulfilling to work hard and see positive results. It is also a wonderful team to be a part of. There are so many truly dedicated and talented people under that roof that it is humbling and truly honorable to be a functioning and valuable part of this elaborate team. So when the music therapist on C2 discovered that my first month was volunteer work, he asked if I was allowed to spend the day at the beach if I preferred. Seemingly sarcastic but in fact serious, I answered, “Why would I want to go to the beach if I could be here?”

Freshly Ground

With just enough time to shower, begin unpacking and talk Caroline’s ear off, Sara arrived to pick us up for Freshly Ground at Kirstenbosch. Kirstenbosch is a breathtaking botanical garden in the city. It is green, lush, and serene against the back drop of Devil’s Peak and the side of Table Mountain. It’s also a fantastic venue for a concert. During the summer they host a concert every Sunday. People bring blankets, chairs, and picnic baskets for the event. Sara Caroline and I found a spot and snacked on apples and cheese, trail mix and rolls with ham. Sara found it odd that we ate our sandwiches dry while she slathered butter on hers. “You don’t put butter on your sandwiches?!?” She asked in shock. Caroline and I exchanged glances and laughed. She asked if we always ate sandwiches so dry, and we told her we usually use mayonnaise or mustard. Culture differences never fail to entertain me. The ordinary day-to-day things can evoke curiosity, laughter, shock, and are always educational. That day I also introduced Sara to Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups (heaven), American Coins (so much cleaner than rand) Starbucks (yummy) and Country music (Blake Shelton is her first love). The number of things I have learned about South African culture are countless and I know over the next year I will continue to have my mind expanded and my curiosity evoked.

 

caroline, me and sara at freshly ground

Freshly Ground’s performance was amazing. One of South Africa’s most famous groups, the lead singer has an incredibly powerful voice. The effect of it resonating through the mountains and lush grounds of the park was chilling. All in all I could not think of a better first-day-back-in-Africa.

 

the stage in front of the back drop of kirstenbosch

Welcome To Africa

The morning of my departure started at 4:00am (Eastern US time). Kevin and I loaded up the truck and headed off to the airport a little before 5. Saying bye to my mother at home was much easier than saying bye to my mother at the airport. She would be bringing my brother, Brian, and his girlfriend to Manchester airport in a few hours.

Dad and Rosie caught up with Kevin and I while we were still waiting in line to check-in. After nearly an hour of standing in line, I finally made my way to the counter…only to be told that I had to remove 7 lbs from my giant suitcase. Kristen, a friend from Shriners and resident of Winthrop, had shown up with her 2 girls moments before. The group of us tore open bags and juggled toys, crayons, board games, sneakers, and other various items until the weight was distributed into my other two bags. My father left with a vacuum sealed bag of clothes that he promised to mail immediately. We marched on to security check-in where everyone stayed with me right up until it was my turn to pass through. And then I was on my own.

The flight from Boston to London was pretty uneventful. What I did find exciting, however, was that I somehow ended up on a list for a “special meal” which meant that I got served first! I also think they were the vegetarian plates…but who wants to eat airplane meat? Well..who wants to eat airplane anything?! Nearly everything that went into my mouth made me nauseous. I think I used to like airplane food. That must have been before I had to eat it for 24 hours.

With two hours in London, I went on a hunt for internet access. I remembered them having kiosks for short-time use. Having only US currency on me I approached the exchange counter with my situation. A man sat there surrounded by signs that shouted “0% commission!” “Free exchange!” so you can imagine my confusion when he told me that the exchange fee would be more than the 2 british pounds I was seeking and, therefore, not worth it. Noting my perplexed expression, he added, “We only charge commission on US currency” Of course you do! Is what I should have said. Instead, I asked him what he suggest I do. That was to purchase something and receive my change in British pounds. More confusion, lots of math, and 15 minutes later I lost 6 US dollars to a bottle of water and 10 minutes of internet. But what I else would I have done with my 2 hours??

The flight from London to Cape Town wasn’t very memorable. I managed to sleep through most of it and was too excited to do much else but think about Cape Town, the weather there, the mountains, and my friends waiting for me!! 

I made through passport check without flaw and went on to collect my luggage. It took a while, but all three pieces showed up! Here’s something I don’t understand: why so many people think the most productive way to collect their luggage is to hover directly over the carousel…in massive crowds. Not only can nobody else see there luggage, but they end up just standing there, looking like goons inspecting every black bag that passes them. If I could conduct this procedure I would have everyone stand around the outskirts. When you see your bag coming is when you approach the carousel. Perhaps this only makes sense to me because you can see my hot pink Hawaiian print luggage from a mile away. Instead, I end up perched on my trolley peering over the crowd. This is why I have distinguishable luggage.

I passed through customs with nothing to declare and found Sara waiting for me in the lobby. Our timing was perfect as she had just arrived moments before I emerged. It was so wonderful to see her; the first friendly face after 20+ hours of traveling. We trudged on for what felt like miles before reaching the garage she had parked in. Upon getting there, we learned the lifts were broken. All of them. We both looked over my heap of baggage on the trolley and looked bewildered. A parking attendant was gracious enough to come to our aid. And when it was concluded that the best solution was to carry the luggage up three flights of stairs, Sara turned to me and said, “Welcome To Africa”.

the view from our apartment