Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Helping helpers in Africa

I’m haunted by the face of a woman I thought I knew. She is a patient at a maternal health clinic where I volunteer. Most of the women are recovering from surgery. She was there, I thought as a grandmother. Her face echoed decades to me and I have been treating her as an elder. Yesterday, I was told she was there as as returned patient waiting to have a C-section following her fistula surgery so she could have a baby. I was amazed and asked my friend to inquire her age, how fertile was she? She is 22. 

This has become a global blog. On Facebook the Myalgia Mommies link posts the recent Mom blogs and occasionally inspiring thoughts. For now the blog is about living with chronic pain really anywhere in the world. The answers are the same. For me it has been to become invested in helping others to get outside of my circumstances and pain. (Living abroad was also a strategic move.  Here we have gained the ability to hire local help for basic household chores like preparing meals and cleaning. For me that has increased my circle of concern, more about that later). 

For our year of service in Niamey,  Niger we had an annual holiday and chose to spend it in India instead of returning to the U.S.; we are fortunate to have family there and our visit was wrapped in the warmth of their hospitality and love. The difference in the culture granted me different status. The pace of Life in India suits me. I felt wonderful but gained weight. I could live there easily and be content. 

Back in our lives in West Africa, I've was immediately thrown into a situation about access to care how it changes the course of a life. 

When we returned home from India our part-time cook, Mary, who we adore, was waiting in the kitchen for us first thing Monday morning. Mary usually doesn't arrive until after one and she was in the kitchen before we made coffee, sitting on a chair, upset and hunched over and asking for our help. The left side of her face was hurting her and she couldn't open her eye. She was having horrible headaches. 

The previous week she had awoken with a terrible pain in her head and couldn't open her eye. Her husband told her she slept on it funny and not to worry. She waited two days before going to the National Hospital where they gave her eye drops that did nothing. So she returned to the National Hospital the next day and they gave her a medicine that made her sick. Now she had come to us. 

it was five days post siezer/stroke incident and she was still in immediate pain. A friend of mine here is a part-time ophlathmologist at local clinic and sent her to the specialty cliic. There she was given a medication which when it was translated and checked came out to be a US veterinarian medicine. It was at least an analgesic. It was not the steroids that she needed. Here in Niamey it would be difficult to get her the diagnosis let alone care that she needed. 

We loved Mary because she gave us constant updates about her family in Ghana. Mary is past retirement age even by Nigérian standards. Her sons are in Ghana where both her parents are alive in their 90’s. She has two surviving brothers who also live in Ghana and between them a tribe of nieces and nephews: some of whom had lived with her for a few years through an Africa cousin exchange program that makes sense to me. Mary and her husband, who is half Nigerian and teaches at the university, are here for the economic opportunity.

Mary is only a part time cook who comes in the afternoon to prepare a meal for us and tell us a story about people in Niamey or news from Ghana. She had worked at the Embassy and the American School and was full of opinions. She was better than talk radio for me and I love her dearly. 

It immediately occurred to me that Ghana has better medicine than Niger and she has her entire family there to help her. The next day Mary was on a bus to Ghana and has since been seen and stabilized. Her health is good but she still can’t open her eye. We’ve spoken a few times, she calls for updates on the children and to thank me for helping her. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be sick in Niger with no resources. 
After Mary left, I had to make dinner every night and we had a different kind of pasta four nights in row. Some things never change. 

Lately, I’ve finally had a bit of free time to devote to doing what makes me happy. I’ve been doing some volunteer work at a women rehabilitation center. It turns out the best thing for me to do is to use my skills to help others in a way that lets me hold babies. Seeing these young women recovering from traumatic births or the loss of a baby and moving forward with life is inspiring and I want to help them however I can. It makes me feel blessed and puts my problems in perspective. 


Enjoy this photo of me holding a baby. I can't pronounce his Housa name let alone begin to spell it. He and his mother came to the center after he was delivered via cesarian section at the government hospital. They have both done well recovering. I love him. 

Epilogue, Edited September 26, 2017. 

Mary called from Ghana today. She wanted me to know that she was doing well and had finally started treatment and her eye was opening. I tried to ask her if she had a diagnosis or what the doctors told her; it is frustrating to get information out of Mary. Her responses are "God Bless, I am well, it's not what you thought it was. Thank you!" It also reminds me of trying to talk to any elderly relative about a medical condition that they don't fully understand. She is well. These last few weeks her sons were still home from school so she's been with her boys. The schools in Africa start first week in October, her sons are in University in Ghana.

Below is Mary covered in my children the day she left for Ghana.


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