Also leaving is Thao Do, the nurse who came with Hien to help us. I am not sure I have ever met anyone as reliable or with such a work ethic. She did not understand much of what I said, but was able to use her instincts to anticipate what was needed and just get it done. Also a sweet and caring person. Another loss for our team. We do get another two anesthesia providers for next week, so we have them to look forward to. I have been pampered, while I watch the nurses manage their domains with less help.
Here I am with Thao and Dr. Nguon as she is getting a patient ready for surgery.
And lastly Dr. Nguon left as well to head back to Ho Chi Minh City. Here he is with Dr. Bill McClure:
He was a quick learner, using Dr. McClure as his mentor. He had a ready laugh and tried his best to speak English whenever he could. He asked me to correct him if he said anything wrong, and I did (my sons know that is not something you want to ask the taskmaster to do...). One day Nguon asked me to "tag a bisshur." We went back and forth for awhile with some other words and some sign language, and I realized he meant to "take a picture." We worked on that and he finally got to "take a pisshur," and we left it at that. He told me on the last day that he hoped we could "walk" together again. He meant "work", so he got his final English class with that one.
Part of my job is to look at people upside down as they lay on the table and I stand at the head. I have to confess, I have never seen such long eyelashes in my life!
One adorable little girl was walked back to our lounge to meet with Dr. McClure to confirm which hand we would be doing. She had been badly burned, and both hands needed work. She stopped everyone in their tracks like a movie star in her adorable pajamas and bobbed hair cut.
As she went off to sleep, she helped hold her own mask and counted in Vietnamese with Dr. Hien. She got as far as twelve. "Twelve, always twelve!" was Dr. Hien's comment.
One family reminded me of the many links between our human family, in spite of arbitrary borders and governments. Many families here have been referred to as "mountain people" by our interpreters - families who have traveled a long way and come down from the mountains. The dialect is so different that our interpreters can often not understand what they are hoping to interpret. As I looked closely at this one family, their faces reminded me of the families that bring their children with cleft-lips to our clinics in Peru or other Central and South American countries. Even the woven shawls in which they swaddle their babies are similar. The technique of swaddling, I might add, is very similar to what we see in Mali, West Africa. Women 'round the world, taking care of business.
Here is a post-operative photo. Mom was quite tired after a day of little water and no food, mixed in with all that angst. Some families travel a very long way with no guarantees that we can do more than just see them in clinic. But baby did well and it was all worth it.
Another group shot. We may look cheery and rested, but the wheels have been turning hard all week. This little girl was just about asleep and was to have her fused fingers separated and skin-grafted.
Frankie moving a light that must weigh 200 pounds, all in the base, without swinging the light arm around the top and clipping someone's head. Wendell suggested that she was practicing her pole moves, but no time for that on Friday.
Quotes of the week:
At dinner, "I can't tell what kind of meat that is."
While walking to work, "Hold still, there is something crawling on your leg."
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