I'm not a doctor, a nurse, or any sort of medical professional. Yet, I spent two weeks in full surgical scrubs in a Vietnam hospital, managing patient data, assisting in the operating room, and otherwise doing what's needed on a medical mission with the International Extremity Project. It's physically and emotionally exhausting, the heat and humidity are powerful, and I enjoy every minute of it.
Until my first IEP mission two years ago, my medical expertise was typically that of a patient -- or a parent's mom. Truth be told, one of the circumstances that got me there is the fact that I'm a klutz. I started working on the IEP website after seeing a photo on my podiatrist's wall. Then in 2012, the team invited me to join a mission trip to Vietnam's Mekong Delta to work at Can Tho Central General Hospital.
It's hard to explain the experience because there are so many dimensions to being there. As soon as we landed in Ho Chi Minh City this time, everything felt familiar to me, only better. (Probably because the flights were much smoother and I didn't spend my first several hours in Vietnam throwing up...)
On Wednesday night of our first week, I sat at a table on the hotel's rooftop patio watching over the Mekong Delta as the sun went down and the city shifted from day to night. The sounds of the Can Tho are a mix of voices of shopkeepers, beeping scooter horns, outboard boat motors, and barges going up and down river at all hours. Everything moves constantly until a bit before 10 p.m., when nearly everything just slows to quiet. The energy winds up again in the morning around 6 a.m. as the boats start going upriver. By the time we're headed toward the hospital at 7:45, the streets are again in busy motion.
The people, especially our patients and their families, make this experience incredible. Meeting families who hold so much hope that our medical team can provide relief or solutions. Meeting children who have significant physical challenges -- and the widest smiles possible. One of my roles is to do the initial patient intake. The hardest part of being the first person on the IEP team to talk to the patients is that familes hope I'll know whether the medical team can help.
Some kids are shy and others are very engaging. One little boy, a return patient from two years ago, spent the first two days playing peek-a-boo with me through the crowd. Every time he and his mother came down the hall, she'd point me out to him and he'd give me the sweetest grin I've seen. He's was too young for surgery two years ago, but he was our schedule this year.
On his surgery day, I made sure I was in the operating room when it was his turn. Before surgery, the kids wait in a room near the OR without their parents. By the time they get to the OR, they're often pretty scared. This little guy was still all smiles. I drew a smiley face on my hand and one on his, then made the faces dance around. I decorated a few more people in the same way, so the OR was pretty well decorated by the time the doctors started his procedure. He kept a strong grip on my hand until the anesthesia kicked in.
Later when we did the post-op rounds in the patient rooms, we made sure everyone who visited him had smiley faces ready on their hands. Needless to say, they couldn't compare to the smile on his face. He's a memorable little guy, but he's one of the many faces and stories that stay with me long after I return home.
~ Kim (a.k.a. Wordjanitor)
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