Tag Archives: africa

Heartbreaking Day

Jul 26, 2017

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Today was probably the

hardest day I have ever had with being a nurse.

It all just felt so unreal. I was doing rounds with the nurses and getting report on the babies when we stopped at this one baby who was not breathing. The night nurse simply stated that he had aspirated the milk the mother was feeding him at midnight and the doctors did not tell her anything was wrong. Then at 4AM she continued feeding it and it aspirated more milk. The nurse said he had been like this for a while. They merely poked his chest and just stared at him. I looked at him and could see that he had a heartbeat but no inhalation or exhalation of the lungs. His toes were purple/blue. A nurse was fumbling with the ambu-bag. She was trying to get the air to go in while she was doing compressions. She didn’t have a proper seal on the mouth. I didn’t know I had this in me but all of a sudden I just took control. I grabbed the bag from her and began doing rescue breathing. I told her there was no need to do compressions because the child had a heartbeat. A lot of the times here I try not to enforce my way of doing things which is the way things are done in the US. However, this was a special circumstance. Every second counted. But in Tanzania, there is never an urgency or rush when an emergency is taking place. Everyone is very “hakuna matata” and don’t worry about things. The nurse wanted to suction the baby and do a blood glucose test before giving oxygen. There were no noticeable secretions. Prioritization here is very different. ABC’s are key: airway, breathing, and circulation. I continued doing rescue breathing. Then a doctor walked in and asked if I could show him how to do it.

NO ONE knew how to do CPR.

I was flabbergasted deep down inside. As we were trying to save this babies life I taught 3 people how to do CPR. On top of all of that, the NICU room that we were in has a heater to insulate all of the premature babies. So on top of no AC in the hospital the room was at 38 degrees C which is 100.4 in F.

As we continued doing rescue breathing then all of the mothers came in for breast feeding. In addition to having 20 babies in the room we now had 20 moms and 8 healthcare personnel. The room is not that big. The mothers just watched as we were trying to save the babies life. In my head I knew the baby needed to be intubated and hooked up to a ventilator if he was going to make it. With him already having enough lack of oxygen to turn his toes blue he was bound to have had brain damage which wasn’t allowing him to breath on his own. The doctor’s explained to me that they only had two ventilators and they were both being used and it would be about a month before we would be able to get one for the baby. I asked if there was anyway to get one from another hospital. But there was not any way. My heart broke into a thousand pieces. As I was bagging the doctors were giving the baby adrenaline to help the heart continue perfusing all of the blood and they hooked him up to normal saline. They also gave him 3 boluses of dextrose. Some of the things they did I questioned but they were doing all that they could. One of the doctors asked me when I could stop bagging. She wanted to just hook the baby up to a nasal prong and give him oxygen that way. I explained that since he is not using his lungs that oxygen wouldn’t work. We are being his lungs by doing rescue breathing and forcing the air in which the nasal prongs would not do. Another nurse was too scared to try and do the respirations for the baby. It was very frustrating and sad to me. If this baby was in the US they would make it. As soon as they had told me there was no ventilator I knew in the back of my head this baby was going to die. Throughout this whole process I kept seeing red ants crawl on the baby. I was confused as to where they were coming from. I pulled back the babies diaper and they had bitten him so much that he was bleeding around his private area. I looked down beside my scrubs that were pushed up against the table that I was leaning on to give him the rescue breaths and there was a cockroach the size of my pinky toe.

This was the first time in my life where I was the one in the hospital who knew what to do. There was no one else I could turn to higher up to help me or have a solution to the problem. It was a scary thought. I just kept doing what I had been taught in nursing school. In the back of mind I was just so thankful to have such amazing professor’s who taught me all that I knew in that moment. After 3 hours of rescue breathing for the baby I knew I had to be ethical and use my critical decision making. I was only prolonging the baby to live. As soon as I stopped breathing for the baby I knew he would die. There was no way I could do this continually for days. However, I didn’t want to stop until the mother came back.

It is custom here to let the baby die and then tell the mom after it has already happened. They feel that it is too painful and causes more suffering whenever the mother has to watch the baby die. However, I just couldn’t settle with that. I wanted the precious baby to be in his mother’s arms during his last few moments on Earth. None of the doctors or nurses would tell the mother for me that the baby was dying. It made me so sad that I couldn’t communicate with her in Swahili to let her know everything that was happening. I simply walked her to the baby and was able to get her to understand the heart was working but not the lungs. I placed her finger in the babies hand and patted her on the back. As I shut the door behind me I tried my best to keep the tears inside of me. I walked down the long corridor to get to the stairwell. As soon as I was out of sight from everyone the tears just poured. I was so overwhelmed and heartbroken. It was around noon at this point and I really wanted to just go home. But I forced myself to carry on with the day. After this situation, it only went down hill. I found two other babies that had a heartbeat but were not breathing. I also did rescue breathing for them. One of the babies pupils were fixed and the oxygen sat was 44%.

All three babies died today. I left work with my head held down as the sun shined on my back. I know the babies are no longer in pain now but I just had a really hard time with accepting how it all happened. In the US it would have never gotten to that point. We have the NICU babies hooked up to machines that constantly take their vital signs. They don’t have anything like that here that would alert them to a babies V/S dropping. There is also 1 nurse to 35 babies here whereas in a NICU at home it is more like 2 or 4 babies to 1 nurse. Today was just a very heartbreaking day.

Mandela, Missionvale, & Me.

Jul 18, 2015

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When Nelson Mandela was freed from prison, people wanted some way to commemorate his birthday. Many suggested grand parades or festivals. Mandela disagreed. The way he wanted to be remembered is by what he was remembered for—his years of service in fighting for freedom and justice. He humbly asked his fellow South Africans to honor him on this day by spending 67 minutes, commensurate with the years he spent serving South Africa, by helping another in need.

Since then, Mandela Day has been a day where people all over South Africa take a moment to pause and honor his legacy by serving their fellow man. As an American who has spent the past eight weeks learning about the complex and resilient forces that have shaped this country, I couldn’t think of a more beautiful way to honor such a fearless leader.

This past week I had the honor of celebrating Mandela Day at Missionvale Care Center, where I spent a week working. The center was founded in 1988 by Sister Ethel Normoyle, who started out teacher with children in the township and visiting homes door-to-door to provide basic healthcare. Since then, the center has grown into a haven for people from all over—a place where they are fed, clothed, healed, taught, and loved. Sister Ethel has been honored worldwide, including a visit from Queen Elizabeth, a Tipperary Peace Award (the same award had been presented to Nelson Mandela), and being awarded South Africa’s Citizen of the Year. When I met sister Ethel, I was immediately drawn to her energetic demeanor and kind eyes. For the past 27 years, her patient love and care has shaped the community around her for good.

During my week at Missionvale, I was able to dive head-first into the variety of programs that are offered to the people of Missionvale, free of charge. I helped make food care packages that are distributed to those around the township unable to come to the center themselves as well as serve bread and soup to hundreds of people who rely on it daily for sustenance. I assisted another volunteer in sorting through donations for the school library, and perfected my present wrapping skills in the Father Christmas workshop, where presents are made and wrapped year-round to be distributed to thousands of children at Christmas. I learned how to sew a tote bag in the Skills Development Unit, where women are able to learn sewing and sell those goods to make a living, and I even saw TOMS in action being distributed to children in need. I even got the chance to assist the medical staff in visiting homes in the township to check in on patients. It was a lot for one person in a week, but when I think of the dozens of staff who come here each day ready to serve with passion and energy, I’m truly humbled. One of my favorite volunteers was fairly bursting with joy at the opportunity to put together food packages for her “special friends” (community members with special needs who cannot care for themselves).

If I wanted to experience what love looks like in South Africa, I saw it here. And on Friday, when hundreds of volunteers came to give their 67 minutes, they got to see it too. Young and old, black and white, rich and poor—there were no distinctions here. There was just humanity—individuals working together for the common good, all to honor the legacy of a man who had the vision to see the South Africa like this, and the courage to make it reality.

I was asked to sing at the assembly following the day of service, which was an incredible honor. As I began to sing, people started to join me, and soon the whole room was filled with the clapping of hands and one resounding voice:

Lean on me, when you’re not strong,

And I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on.

For it won’t be long, ’til I’m gonna need

Somebody to lean on.

We all need each other in this world. It doesn’t matter if you’ve taken a trip across the ocean or are just calling a friend to see if they’re okay—we all have the power to positively impact the lives of others, to celebrate strength in humanity, to live and love as Mandela lived.
Happy Mandela Day. Don’t just give your 67 minutes—give your life.

Jeanette

Angola Reflections

Jul 9, 2015

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It’s been nearly a month since I have returned from Angola and I have just now processed through everything I witnessed and the lessons I have learned from this experience.

First off, I want to thank Peter & Ann Pretorius for giving me the opportunity to go into the fields with the JAM Media Team to capture the stories of the local people. I know this was a rare opportunity and I am so grateful to have been able to join such a talented and wise group of people.

Secondly, I want to thank the team that I travelled with Darren, Chadrac, Murray, Clint and Peter. Thank you for your patience, wisdom, and concern for me as I witnessed some of these things for the first time.

I tried to emotionally, spiritually, and physically prepare myself for Angola, but there truly is no way to prepare for the things that we saw.

Visiting the malnutrition clinic was the most difficult thing I have ever experienced. I remember Peter praying for a child to be healed and the week the team returned, we had heard news that the child passed. I was heartbroken. I have never seen such frail children in my life.

What I learned from witnessing this is that if God leads you to see something like this, you must use your voice to encourage others to feed and educate children so they do not end up in a malnutrition clinic like this one that we visited.

My most joyful moment in Angola was seeing JAM drill and hit water. The reaction of the local people was priceless! They say it is not how long you are in the desert, but what your attitude is in the desert. These people had been waiting for water their entire lives and witnessing their constant joy, even before the water was provided, inspired me.

Filming in the last village we visited, we captured some of the saddest stories I have ever heard. We listened to many stories of mothers losing children to malnutrition. As the night closed, we went to our campsite and I saw a box being carried by the locals. I asked what it was. It was a funeral happening right before our eyes. What got me through that moment was earlier in the day, Peter had said, we must bring these people food before we return to our campsite and we did. It was fulfilling to know that at least in the 24 hours we were there we could make an impact.

There is a selfless spirit. A spirit of humility instilled in African people. When we brought food, a little girl ran to her grandmother with utmost excitement to tell her there was food that could be shared.

From this experience, I hope to live life with the humility and selflessness of the people I encountered. I walked away from this trip heartbroken, yet inspired. For my entire life, I have something to fight for and I am grateful for JAM providing that opportunity for me.

With Love,

Morgan