If I remember correctly, the week of end-of-year testing in elementary school was exhausting. Sitting in your seat with a pencil and a million questions for hours basically wiped me out. I could hardly wait to go home and take a nap. Well, this week is final exams for Gray Memorial Basic School. The children here couldn’t be more different than the above description. As soon as we pulled up the school in our taxi, the children were sticking their hands through our windows and opening our doors to welcome us. They had gone mad! The energy level was a billion times higher than usual for some reason. Shantel and I taught a lesson about how to be a good friend, Nikki and Kathleen taught about the continents, Lacey, Brayden, and Janessa talked about patriotism, and Cameron and Bailey taught about the planets. In most of our classes, the students were acting like monkeys and Cameron literally got trampled by his third graders. After school was out, all the students decided to play games for a half hour. They. Stayed. After. School. What a sharp contrast from my experience in elementary school ha ha! When we began to walk out the gates, dozens of students followed us out to the street, holding our hands, kissing our arms, and jumping on our backs. They swarmed around us like busy bumblebees while we waited for a taxi. As I tried to get in the taxi, I couldn’t get them to release my hand and feared that my arm would be chopped off in the door. They even had the stamina to run after our taxis for a while! We love our kids!
 |
| My 2nd grade class showing off their unique thumbprints and mini magnifying glasses |
 |
| One of my favorite kindergarteners, Naxima, and I |
 |
| Megan playing Ghanaian games with the students |
We had one of our rare free afternoons today. Since I am a pre-nurse, I was curious to witness the differences in health care. For my nursing credit, I was asked to take notes in my journal about certain topics. One thing I was asked to look at was the differences in healthcare between Ghana and the U.S. I decided that the best way to find this out would be to go visit a hospital. I was not prepared for what I would find. I got the name of a doctor that Lynley knew and dragged Cameron, Bailey, and Hilary with me to the SNITT Hospital in Osu. As soon as we got to the entrance, I got nervous. I asked the front desk receptionist for the doctor whom she claimed she had never heard of before. I told her that I was a nursing student from the U.S. and I wanted to take a look around and visit some patients. Without any I.D. or name or authority, she invited me to go anywhere I wanted. "Walk around and take a look" were her words. There was no one to take us around so we began to wander by ourselves. The room with the front desk was a "consultation room". Apparently, the alternative for an emergency room. Dozens of patients waited to get into one of the five rooms to meet with the doctor or nurse. We made our way up to Ward A: the Female Ward. Maternity, labors, pediatrics were included here. I saw several women waiting in a hallway, sitting next to several empty incubators. I was quite sure that these women were waiting to give birth. I saw gurneys left outside in the hallways, screen doors that went into rooms. We made our way over to Ward B: the Male Ward. Here we met a nurse who was willing to give us a tour. He took us into the private rooms first. These rooms were more expensive and offered more services. He told me that there was a mosquito problem so it is important to keep the door closed. I was appalled as this nurse took me from room to room, introducing me to patients, explaining their diagnoses, surgery dates and times of discharge, telling me the treatments and medications they were receiving. No HIPPA whatsoever, huge breaches of privacy. The nurse didn't ask me to sanitize my hands before entering a room. I literally felt like I was in a haunted house in the bloody hospital part except this was REAL with real patients whose lives were on the line. Or that I was in the midst of a war with a major lack of sanitation and supplies in a clinic for the wounded. Here is a list of things I did not see:
a bottle of hand sanitizer
a sink to wash hands in
a security system
a limit for visitors
a separation for infectious diseases
a restroom
a crash cart
a MAR or documentation chart
an allergy bracelet
a patient identification bracelet
an operating room
an emergency room
organization
an employee washing their hands
a box of Latex gloves
any precaution signs
a waiting room that was not full
a clean wound dressing
That is only the beginning. I walked in a shared room that had four beds in it, crammed next to each other. One patient had malaria, another hepatitis, another tuberculosis, and the last suffered a stroke. No separation of infectious diseases. The rate of infection must be ridiculously high. The nurse told me that one of the patients had restraints because they were crazy. I witnessed a dirty blood transfusion that appeared to have old, yellowing tubing and no way to control the drip rate. There were only 10 rooms in each ward which made me wonder how they decide who gets care with all the people waiting. The nurse told me that the rooms are always full by morning. I asked about the payment management. A $300 deposit is required before admission. At termination of treatment, the patient is billed with the remainder of the bill that is due before discharge. Most of Ghana lives on less than a $300 annual income. No one could afford that but the rich. This is when I realized that this hospital was the "rich" hospital and my heart broke. Everything was filthy from the wound dressings to the mattresses to the curtains that separated the crammed beds in shared rooms. Everyone ate the same food made by the cook in a small closet. No restrictions or dietary alterations. There was not an air ventilation system. Filth everywhere. Sanitation nowhere. Nothing smelled clean or sterile. Low staff. Hopeless patients. Disorganization in all aspects. I seriously began to shake from fear and distress when I saw that every patient looked like they were dying. In a hospital in the U.S. most people seem to be recovering or at least being taken care of. Here I saw death. I could tell that if there were possibly some changes in sanitation, lives could be saved. My heart grew very heavy. I wished to have my nursing degree more than ever so that I could help and not feel so helpless. This was really the place that people went when they were most desperate to stay alive. It made poverty very real to me. When the nurse took me around, he introduced me as a student of nursing from the U.S.A. I was deeply wounded by the longing I saw in the patients' eyes and the eyes of their families. Almost as if they were wishing to be in a U.S. hospital, where they would have a greater chance of survival. It truly pained me and made me resolve to become the best nurse I possible can be in order to help and save lives. I wished to implement so many things in that terrifying place!
 |
| Notice how there is no operating room... |
 |
| Consultation room...apparently, the ER? |
 |
| A filthy gurney left outside! |
I was extremely shaken by the experience. It made me truly appreciate the efficient healthcare I have the opportunity to receive in the United States. Personally, it made me want my nursing degree more than ever which will enable me to practice nursing in a country where they thoroughly wash their hands in between patients and where I can help patients live long, healthy lives. Walking through the hospital humbled me significantly and made me realize that I will never depreciate healthcare in the U.S. again.
No comments:
Post a Comment