May 22, 2010

• Grand Opening (WDTFD? pt 1 of 3)

  My thoughts have been lingering over one particular memory during our Cambodia trip.  At the time, I was overwhelmed, and kept most of it to myself.  But it's all coming back to me now...

  ~ ~ ~

  Have you ever dreaded a day so much, that when the day finally arrived, you wanted to run home and hide? 

  That's how I felt, day 1. Our "grand opening".  Of the ICU.

  Usually, a grand opening implies an event to be "grand," elaborate, or some sorta special.  Except it was none of those things.  I stood in front of our ICU rooms, the 2 rooms in the middle of the long corridor, designated to house our sickest patients.  My jaw dropped, and my eyes opened wide.

  It was a completely bare room. No supplies.  No equipment. No NOTHIN'.

  How are we supposed to save lives here?!?!  I wanted to slam my fists into the walls, but knew that wouldn't make a good impression on the local staff. 

  Before I could even slide my TB mask over my face, 2 local nurses were pushing a patient in his bed down the hallway, towards me, with an oxygen tank and extractor beside them. 

  "We need to set up the oxygen, NOW." Dr. M instructed me.  The patient was already attached to a tank, but the small oxygen extractor (the machine that converts room air into pure oxygen) couldn't deliver more than 3 liters. 

  Suddenly, I felt like someone had made me the captain and thrown me onto a ship in a hurricane, even though I had never been out at sea before.  I didn't know what a oxygen extractor was (in the States they are automatically built into the wall) but somehow I was in charge of it, and I was pushing a large extractor from a storage room down into the ICU, tearing the box open and plugging this massive life saving machine into the wall. 

  Ok. It's plugged in. Now what? How does the oxygen come out of this thing?!?!   I needed a flow meter, a device that hooks into the machine. But where on earth would I find one?

  "Run down to the emergency room and beg for one," Dr. M recommended.

  I looked at the patient, breathing hard, struggling to survive.  This man is gasping to breathe and I have to go and beg?! And where is the emergency room anyway??

  One of the local nurses led the way.  We hurried.  I begged.  They agreed.  I signed my name on some silly carbon copy, grabbed the flow meter, and ran all the way back to my unit. 

  It was 95 degrees F.  The hospital rooms were indoors but the hallways were open to the outside, with no walls, and of course, no air conditioning.  Panting, out of breath, with sweat dripping down my forehead, I rushed into the ICU and shoved the device into the extractor.

  Crap.  Now I need oxygen tubing. 

  Before I knew it, I found myself in another part of the unit, the "multiple drug resistant TB" (MDR TB) ward, where staff and families are required to wear a mask at all times.  My hands dug through old boxes of supplies donated from various countries and NGOs.  Luckily, we found some random tubing.... it wasn't even the right size.  Oh, whatever!  I ran back.

  Finally.  The extractor was set up, the flow meter in place, and the tubing was connected.  But before I could celebrate my "success" in scoring the supplies I had to rummage and run after, another patient arrived in the next room...

  • 4:09 am
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