Leaving Tenwek

December 22nd, 2017 by georginagreen

The Peds team: Eli, Janet, Mercy, Lorna, Shammah, Ralph and Musa (not pictured)

Annette, the respiratory therapist, and some local children who joined us for the last part of our walk to Motigo

 

I’m writing from the Nairobi airport. This is my last blog post.

 

My dad was a cryer. He got emotional with Ms. Foster and boo-hooed at my kindergarten open house…and many, many other times after that. If something gripped his heart, there were tears. And I loved teasing him about it. Today I stood up at the Wednesday morning devotion to say goodbye to my new friends at Tenwek, and all I had were tears. I can’t help it, it’s in my genes.

 

It seems so trite to say at the end of my first mission trip that I feel changed by the experience. But I do. I am. Here’s what I learned this month:

 

-It’s powerful and comforting to practice medicine in a place where you can pray with patients and worship with colleagues. I was cautious about what it would feel like to be in this setting, and I don’t have the words for what a tremendous gift it has been. The missionary version of Christianity that I have found here is kind, inclusive, and loving. Uncomplicated. I hope I will continue to do things like “pray for the call team” long after I’ve left here.

 

-One of Tenwek’s beautiful legacies is the interns and residents who are training there. They’re so bright. And they work hard. I’m grateful that the interns welcomed me, let me join in, made sure I didn’t miss anything interesting.

 

-I have found yet another iteration of “my people.” I love, truly love, the physicians that I have worked with for the past few weeks. As a latecomer to medicine, someone who is nearing the end of my training, I’m still trying to put together the who-I-am and who-I-am-as-a-physician. That seems uncomplicated here, where the primary purpose is to serve others. I have witnessed very little ego here.

 

-It feels so good when a sick baby gets well and goes home.

 

-I knew that I would get more than I gave, that my contribution as a first time visitor would be minimal. I’m so grateful that I was allowed to come.

 

-I do not ever, ever want to drive in Kenya. I’m not nearly brave enough for that.

 

-I spent one night on a safari trip, and it’s amazing how accurate the Lion King movie is. I saw Pumba.

 

-I need more peace and simplicity in my daily life.

 

-The list of medical revelations from this trip is long. For example, a teenager with intentional organophosphate poisoning, which heretofore I had only read about in med school. So much learning.

 

-I still have much to learn.

 

-I need more time to study and to think when I’m at home.

 

-On the flight over, I wrote in my journal about how grief and mild traumatic brain injury can be similar. After a concussion you can have fogginess, confusion, and depression that make it hard to function in daily life. If you jump into your daily life too soon after concussion, the healing process can be extended. I still miss my dad. And I feel that the concussion is now gone.

 

-Oh the shingles. A caterpillar wiggles across my left eyebrow through the day. Down my nose. It settles for a little while if I pet it. And the eye ball still hurts in its socket. Nerves take time to heal. In general I’m not a fan of tattoos, because ink on skin reminds me of Jews being marked in concentration camps. But some of my friends get tattoos to mark stops on their life journey, which I can understand. I don’t mind my new scars. A tattoo. A physical reminder.

 

-When I finished my Master’s degree, I was lamenting to one of my professors about how much I wanted to go to Africa, how I didn’t know how or when I would get there. She said, “Don’t worry, Africa will still be there.” She was right. I got to work there (here) eventually, fifteen years later. Kenya is such a precious place. And I can only bear to leave with the thought that I will be able to come back.