It's been a whirlwind of activity at the end now. I got to do a last minute visit to a cancer ward at the Kitui County Hospital. The county hospital has a nice campus, with separate buildings for different departments. I imagine that the separation and the open air buildings reduce the amount of contagion, though the wards themselves have up to 30+ patients in one open room. Not a lot of running water visible, and latrines are down the hall or in a separate building. I don't know how the very sick cancer patients manage, especially those who don't have family members at their bedside. The hospital does mostly palliative care, and have some group and individual support counseling. Surgical cases and radiation is sent out to Nairobi or other larger cities.
Saturday I squeezed in one last CPR class for hospital and nursing school staff; at last a small group attended after a couple of false starts when nobody came. I think of my work here--which really has been quite meaningful: About 9-10 nursing school lectures, 3 continuing medical education talks, and 7 CPR classes, in addition to community health program evaluation and gender based violence committee work. Hopefully some useful stuff in there.
Sunday I began doing some of my routines for the last time beginning with a final lively Mass with more singing and dancing and drumming. Then we were invited to our Ugandan friends' (Patrick and Faith) for lunch. We got to see their newborn baby girl Danika, who seems to be thriving.
In the evening, Leigh threw a little dinner party for me, which my nursing school supervisor attended, as well as a few other new volunteers. Living in the "barracks" with Leigh has been a lot like I imagine the army would be. You complain about the hardships and inconveniences, but you form tight alliances. "Necessity makes strange bed fellows."
I've been feeling sentimental about some of these unusual friendships I've formed. The choir director, who's also an aspiring photographer/videographer, but who has to work in the school computer lab to support his siblings. The CMMB driver, whose compassionate nature leads him to want to open a school for street kids, but who doesn't know how to access funding. A nurse, who's a single mother, desiring to further her education and become a psychiatric nurse, probably in Nairobi. The clinical officer (mid-level provider), whom I encouraged to pursue the gender based violence project, even though his first proposal was rejected. So many ambitious nurses whose goal is to get out of Kenya and head to the US, Canada or the UK. Young professionals and students, who see their only opportunity for advancement as the brain drain route. It's hard to know whether to advise them of the best way to apply for jobs, visas, etc, or to not provide false hope by encouraging unrealistic expectations. Everyone wants our WhatsApp number; we are the local heroes, the fortunate ones who can get on the plane tomorrow and arrive in the land of their dreams with money in our pockets. I think about some of the projects I began and wonder whether, in good faith, I can say that I might actually be back to see them along. In spirit, I would love to. Regardless of whether I do, those friendships forged have made such an impression on my heart, and I take those treasures with me like valuable souvenirs.
This morning I did my morning routine for the last time, crawling out of my cocoon and sweeping the bug death off the porch, making my tea and listening to the tinny buzz of the Call to Prayer across the village. Then I headed down to the hospital for some final meetings and to donate left over supplies, and say some awkward goodbyes.
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