Christmas Eve

   Regardless of the masses of Christmas festivities planned by the social-committee-type-people, a mournful air of homesickness could be felt in the atmosphere.  I felt hum-drum and melancholy.  Something was not quite right.  I was meant to be taking a Christmas light tour on Tuxedo Ave, or Cherry Rd, or watching Secret Adventures or Doughnut Man Christmas Specials with Lisa.  My other friends were no more positive than I.  We pouted and sighed as we watched fish leap out of the water, midst the floating rubbish.  

  Along came Fred, a jovial, young-at-heart deck-hand who shook us from our self-pitty stupor by reminding us that Christmas is not a time to be sad that we can't be with our immediate family, it is a time to rejoice and celebrate Jesus' birth with our eternal spiritual family.  And with that, the cloud of gloom began to lift...

(to be continued)

Walking Walmart

   As I stroll down the main road from the dental clinic to the port, I pass by innumerable roadside food stands,  and 'shops' (a blanket of the sidewalk with a collection of purses or other good being sold).
   If I was having a lazy day I could take advantage of the ever-changing 'walking-walmart' that drifts up and down the street.  Bright colourful plastic buckets adorn the heads of men, woman and children.  Anything can be found.  I think I need some clothes - wait, hear comes the fabric lady with a stack of fabric tied in a cube, floating through the air.  Maybe I should buy my dad a hat - well hear comes the habberdasher with a stack of 10+ bowler hats balanced atop eachother, nearly defying gravity.  A fan of dress shirts still on the hangers form a veil as they spill off a woman's head and down her back.
    I'm hungry.  Well, that can soon be solved as there is water, buns and fruit all walking towards me.  If the vendor is short enough, the food will pass by at eye-level, tempting my gurgling stomach.
    The pharmacy bucket has been enlarged with a cardboard cone, so that the boxes of toothpaste, soap, hairdye, and pills all stack up unside this upside-down decapitated cone, adding another two feet to the merchant's height!

   In the last few days I've been bitten by mosquitoes several times, which is curious because I hadn't been bitten once in the two weeks leading up to the weekend.  Now I wish I had bought some 'Afterbite' from my Victorian Walmart branch before I left.  Oh well, I'm sure if I searched hard enough I could find it in a walking Conakry pharmacy bucket!

This I gotta write home about...

    Regardless of the dentist that I am working with, I can still show compassion and kindness in my own actions.  I had a few neat experiences today.

    Morning

   Little 9 year old girl is escorted kicking and shrieking into the clinic, mother struggling against her wriggling body to place her on the chair.  It was immediately clear that she was too worked up for us to be successful in even getting her to open her mouth.  We told her mom that there were other children waiting, and her daughter would have her wait to be treated until after the other children were seen...

   Still freaking out at these new surroundings and people, her mom led her out of the clinic, but not before the next little patient stepped through the door to see all the commotion.

   His eyes bugged out of his head in horror, and his calm demeanor began to unleash a torrent of frightened tears.   What was this torture house that he was being led to?  In broken pigeon french, I tried to communicate as much as I could.  I greeted him and told him my name and asked for his, I tried to comfort him and lessen the scariness of the dental chair.  His terror has subsided for the moment.  The dayworker gently explained what was going to happen with the freezing, and the little boy remained calm until the needle came into view.  He began to kick and shriek and writhe in the chair, and the mother, dayworker and myself had to hod him down as the injection was given.  So sad to upset such a scared little kid, but I have to put it in perspective:  They may be scared and sore for a few minutes while we take out his tooth, but he wont have a sore tooth anymore, and he sure won't get a life-threatening abscess from infection.  While we waited for the anesthetic to take effect, I tried to humor him with my horrible french as we played with a stuffed Bambi.  The extraction itself was the same drama, but it was over quick.  He refused to let us use the saliva ejector to remove the pool of fluid that was filling up his mouth.  I tried to sop it up with gauze.  Despite the day-workers instructions, he couldn't grasp the concept that he could swallow.  The piece of gauze in the empty socket would have sufficed in stopping the bleeding, but he wouldn't swallow any of the saliva in his mouth, and so he ended up making a mess on the front of his striped terry cloth romper as a thick slow-motion waterfall of bloody saliva fell to his clothes.  We tried to clean him up as best we could, but really he just wanted to leave.  I tried to console him as I led him and his mom to be dismissed...

    A man in his mid-thirties sat down in the chair and greeted us "Merry Christmas, may God bless you."  I wasn't sure if he actually spoke English or if he had just learned a specific phrase.  Upon questioning him, I learned that he was from the neighboring country of Sierra Leone, which used to be a British colony and whose official language is English.  I was so excited!  An English speaking patient!  It was so relaxing to be able communicate with no barriers.  There was however, one barrier for the dentist.  As an Aussie, she spoke the same language as this patient, but her accent had enough twang to it that she may as well have been speaking another language to him.  So in a funny change of events, I ended up being the dentist's translator to the patient - translating English to English.  That was the easiest job I ever had.  Maybe I should start my own accent translating business...

   As the afternoon wore on, I went to fetch the next patient from the courtyard.  A teenage boy, our patient sat obediently on a bench next to guess who?  The little boy from the morning in the blood-stained striped terry suit.  He was the little boy's older brother!  I waved to the little boy and he hopped off his bench and trotted over to me.  He thought that I had been summoning him.  I smiled, rubbed his shoulder and thanked him for behaving so well.  Then I had to send him back to his bench.  So we treated his older brother, who behaved much better than his younger brother - he had the brain development to realize he needed to have teeth taken out - or else...

   Simultaneously the mother of these two brothers was also having teeth taken out.  (It's a family affair when Mercy Ships comes to town!)  As she got up to leave she made her way over to me, patted me on the shoulder to get my attention, and began to make thankful hand-motions as if she were semi-bowing (don't know how I feel about that).  Couldn't speak English but I will translate it to mean "Thank you for treating my children so gently.  Your kind face helped to ease their anxieties."  Who knows what she meant, but I like to think that someone appreciates that I am not a heartless assistant butcher.   After mother was dismissed, I found my little friend.  He let me take his hand and lead him to his waiting mom.   He did not shrink back away from me.  I guess I am not viewed as the bad guy.  I thanked him again and had to leave, but I so wanted to pick the kid up and give him a big hug.  (I guess I just miss Tippy?)

   Last patient of the day and guess who walks in?  Little 9 year old girl from the morning who was so worked up even before she was in the clinic.  "Oh great!" the dentist and I mused, "This shall be fun."  We prepared ourselves for the worst.  Anesthetic loaded, forceps within reach for a 'snatch and grab,' myself and the day worker ready to restrain her thrashing, we brought the anesthetic syringe to her mouth and were struck dumbfounded when she didn't move a muscle.  No flinch, no squeak, just complete acceptance of the impending dental procedure!  This obedience continued even when the forceps made an appearance.  What the heck happened to her?  As it turns out, her mom had promised her the 5000 Guinea Franc bill that she clutched in her tiny hand only if she behaved for the dentist.  She deserved every penny for such good behavior.  She must have really wanted that money!

Trash talk

   The first thing that I noticed the first time I was off the ship in daylight, is the disgusting amount of garbage of the street.  The main culprit is used water bags - beanbag-sized disposable plastic pouches filled with water. The average person does not carry a water bottle, but rather buys a water bag from the bowl atop the head of a passing maiden.  There has been no education against littering.   Once done with their water bag, the consumer will simply crumple it up and drop it on the sidewalk.  On either side of the streets, a patch-work quilt of cigarette buts, used water bags, random pieces of clothing and mystery puddles of all shades greets the shoes of passers-by.   In the port, the stench of stale urine wafts up through the cut outs in the pavement, underneath which flows a steady stream fed by the uncalculable army of port workers and security.
    Surprisingly, on occasion I will see a token environmental steward sweeping the streets with a crude hand-held straw broom.  The garbage never seems to make it further than the roadside piles to which it was ushered.  I saw a most surprizing site on the way to work today - a garbage truck!  The man was collecting rubish from a roadside pile and gingerly scooping it into his trash truck.  I hadn't seen any of these here before, and you sure can't tell that they exist.
    No public garbage cans on the street - that is a first-world country invention.
    When I do find garbage bins on the ship and in the clinic, my relief turns to west-coast environmental anguish, as I find what should be the contents of my blue recycling bin somehow misplaced in the trash.  No recycle programs here, so all of the paper, boxes, plastic and tins that we go through must be thrown in the garbage!  So against everything that the environmentalists have squeezed into my head.


     In the Mercy Ships dental clinic (on land, a ten minute drive) I have found a range of existent to non-existent bedside manner (patient care and comfort.)  Although the dental team isn't all about numbers of patients seen (we want to care for them ), sometimes it can seem like an assembly line of freezing patients and popping out teeth.  This feeling is amplified when the dentist in question confesses to being heartless - (emotionally detached from each patient so as to be able to cope with the pain and fear and language barrier between patient and dentist.)  The day workers who assist us in the clinic are multi-lingual, speaking English, French and a variety of local dialects, so it is their job to translate.
     A doctor who is still in touch with the human side of patient's suffering will make sure that the patient is aware of everything that will happen - such as the prick of a needle or strong pressure from extraction instrument and respond to their reactions.  They have a gentle touch.  On the other hand, if the doctor is either jaded by too many mouths full of decay or if he is preserving himself by disconnecting with the humanity of the patients, he may have a rough approach, striving to get the task at hand finished (pulling a tooth) rather than also guiding the patient comfortably through this terrifying new experience.  This roughness can be seen in how one uses the instruments in the patient's mouth or the non-gentle manner in which one pushes or pulls a patient's head because of the lack of ability to ask them to turn it themselves.  Some dentists are more patient-centered, others are more task-oriented.
     I think of one of the quintessential Mercy Ships posters of a nurse beside a hospital bed holding the hand of a recovering patient, showing so much compassion and love.  Then I compare this picture of Mercy to our dental clinic.  Because we have to see so many patients, we don't have extra time to spend with them.  After their procedure, that is it, they leave.  We don't care for them for hours.  (Mind you, they don't need our help to take some Ibuprofen and bite down on some gauze.)
    This challenge of dealing with so many personalities and styles also affects us assistants.  Every dentist has their own style, with their own preferences and quirks.  Just when you feel that you have become one with a dentist, things are switched up and you are learning how to do the dental dance with a completely new person.  Some dentists like alot of assistance (keeping working field clean and visible, passing instruments etc), while some surprisingly don't want much help at all.  It is tough when you feel that you are trying your best, and offering the best service possible, yet what you are offering is exactly the opposite of what is wanted by the dentist.  That being said, the first day working with a new dentist is always the worst as you struggle to learn their ways, but after you learn what they want, it is pretty easy to adapt.
    All of the above was a politically correct, polite way of explaining things.  I did not describe it this nicely when venting frustrations to my friends.  Many tears this week.

    On the plus side, I have made some great friends with whom I can confide in.

What to do, what to do...

     "So what do you do in your spare time?" you may ask.  After being here for a week, I have a bit more of an insight.  Essentially, this ship is our home and we can do anything we want.

• There is an internet cafe, a  lot of common space with couches and electrical sockets, a few T.Vs in the common rooms, or you can book one of the meeting rooms to project a movie on the big screen.  There is a library where you can sign out books or DVD's.  There is also a Rosetta Stone French program available to use.  There is a Starbucks cafe on board that is open at select times during the day.  
• Other activities available: aerobics, pilates, running group, ballet and karate for the kids, bongo drum lessons - available on a set schedule.  There are small groups that meet, but I haven't explored that yet.  
• There are different outreaches that you can participate in such as:  the Hope Center (recovery center off ship), prison visits, orphanage visits, 'befriend-a-patient', observations of surgery etc.  
• Then of course you can arrange a group to do any outing.  I have heard that there are some beautiful waterfalls to go to inland.  

      It is way to easy to burn youself out with all of these activities, so you have to pace yourself.  I have done a lot of lounging around this weekend.  It feels like a waste of time but I know that I have to pace my energy so that I can last for 6 months. 

Photography heartbreak...

     I know you are asking why I have not yet posted any photos as I had promised.  The reason being, most photo ops are illegal here!  When I asked a fellow crew member (the first day) if there were any times when I shouldn't take pictures, the response was "just don't."  Here is why:

1) Any government building (which could be anywherre), or police, soldier or security guard is illegal
2) Many of the Guinean people here are against having their photograph taken (related to Muslim beliefs?)
They will become very offended and angry.

     Just a couple of days ago, two of the girls from the ship were arrested in a market for taking photos!  This had nothing to do with government people or buildings, but merely because it was a public place, and these girls were white westerners, so obviously they had money.  The police here are very corrupt, and it is common for them to take advantage of any given situation that you might be in, and try to bribe you upon threat of arrest.  Well these girls were arrested because they would not give up their camera!  In the end, everything worked out and the girls were released.

    Everyone on the ship that I have asked has confirmed this bad news.

    At first, the heartbreak hit me hard.  Sooooo many things to photograph, and not being allowed!  I have quickly realized that it is probably good that I cannot pull out my camera at every turn, because if I did, I would never get anywhere!  I would spend an hour walking a city block (I know you are snickering).

    For now, I will take to my paparazzi position on the ship deck.  There isn't too much around aside from storage containers, trucks and ships, but at least that gives me something to shoot.  As I adjust into the groove, I will get a better feel for when is and is not appropriate to bring out a camera.

    Thieves are also another concern.  If you don't want your valuables stolen, it is best that you not reveal them.  I want to design a covert hidden camera purse!

    In time, maybe I will just begin to ask people if I can take their photo.  I know that this is the polite thing that any sensible person would do, but I have taken to random candid travel pics with no regard for permission.  I guess I am the rude one.

    The silver lining to this cloud is that without my camera, I am free to actually absorb all of my surroundings.  My senses are free to see, hear, smell and feel the life passing by around me.  I believe that I will have to be posting mainly word pictures now, (this will exercise my literary biceps).   (Help Liz!)

I ran up against my first brick wall

I sit in the mid-ship lounge, a low hum of converstion on the foreground, the familiar boat drone in the background.  I take comfort in my mug of Twinings Earl Grey tea (thanks Mary) which I almost didn't bring due to packing difficulties.  Such a soothing scent.
       My day didn't start out the best, as I was woken up at 8:15 by the dental hygienist, asking if I was planning to come to the clinic.  Crap!  We are supposed to be out at the landrovers at 8:00!  No breakfast, no brushing of teeth, literally just change from pj's to scrubs and off I went.  Mortified as ever, this experience was exactly like what happened in my first week of work at my old office. (I got a call from the receptionist at 1:05 PM, asking if I was on my way for my 1:00 shift. - I had slept right through the morning.)
No one got super mad, but I felt sheepish.
      I grabbed a pancake from the coolers at work, and gobbled it down straight from my hand.  I wasn't quite awake as the day started, but I woke up pretty quickly.  Plenty of extractions, plenty of fillings.  The last patient of the day was a two year old who has decay in all his teeth and has been coming to the clinic every week to have a tooth pulled.  Two years!  All teeth need to be pulled!  It was just wrong to have to listen to a baby howeling as it is given an injection of anesthetic.
     Found my spirits dropping at the end of the day.   I have been on such an emotional high, that I knew eventually my energy levels and emotions would crash.  Got back to the ship, and sobbed into my pillow for a few minutes.  Went through the photo album that Liz and S.A. made me, and put them up on my wall.  (The silliest thing that I completely forgot to bring was pictures!  I have my computer, yes, but no other photos to put on my wall.)  After I had collected myself, I ventured out of my cabin and ran into my dutch friend Marije (Mariah).  Sat down in the hallway outside our cabins and vented to her.

Better late than never...

Greetings one and all,

    So sorry that I didn't write this sooner.  I have had technical difficulties from the beginning.  Public computer user names not working, facebook blocking me, blog not accepting my login name, and super slow internet access.  Finally have jumped over all of those hurtles.
    So much to write about, if I forget something just ask.
    So I arrived at the Conakry airport.  The heat was quite a shock from the air conditioning of the plane, though I don't think it felt as hot as India.  While lining up for immigrations, I spotted a Mercy Ship shirt.  I squeeled with glee, and softly shouted "Yay Mercy Ships."  The girl turned around and we rushed to meet each other, so glad to find a 'familiar face' in this crowd of people.  My first friend.  Shortly after we found two other Mercy ship veterans who were on return trips.
    Outside, we met out Mercy Ship driver (who also happened to be the coordinator of the dental team.)
Our drive to the ship was a dark one, as there are not many street lights.  From what I could see in the dark, the third-worldness reminded me quite a bits of my trips to India and Dominican Republic.
    Pulled up to the ship, and my new friend and I were too giddy for words, both in awe that we were actually here.  Most experiences in the first couple of days were similar.  "I am actually on the Africa Mercy!?"  Inside, welcome paperwork had to be completed.  We stuck out like sore thumbs: the two of us as dissheveled as could be, jaws down to our knees, wonder and excitement streaming beaming from our eyes.   Newbies.
    Next day was a tour of the ship.  Once more "I can't believe I am on the Africa Mercy!"  Through the cafeteria, the mid-ship lounge with Starbucks (staffed at select times by Mercy Ship crew), past the computer stations and the International Lounge (large meeting room).  Past the academy and the library, laundry room, hair salon, bank, 'post office' ship shop, up to the deck and the pool.  So much to see.  It was like a large BC ferry.  So fun to walk up and down the halls and get dis-oriented.  I shall be sad when I no longer get lost.  A few of us (newbies and veterans,) took a landrover for a drive to a local eatery to have "Shwarmas." (Not spelled correctly.)  They consist of a pita wrapped around chicken, coleslaw, french fries and sauce.  The Guineans are ingenious!  Got my first taste of locals gathering around the fenced-in patio, staring and begging as we ate.  Our guide reminded us that you can't respond - if you give out anything, a swarm of other beggars will envelope you.  (Something we also found true in Munoz, Dom. Rep.)  ...But you  can discretely leave your leftovers at the fence and someone will take it.
   Started work on Monday.  Many experiences to tell, most of which will be featured on Troublesometeeth.blogspot.ca .
 
  The clinic consists of a big room, on the bottom floor of some compound.  9 dental chairs (which are glorified folding ironing boards), a lunchroom, a storage closet, an instrument room, a sterilizing room and a reception room.  The whole setup is portable - they brought it all into the building from the ship when they first arrived on this mission.  Long rectangle tables act as a counter for supplies, each 'unit' has one dental chair, an operator delivery tray on a tripod, and the coolest portable suction machine I have seen.  It looks like a vacuum and has two long hoses that extend the HVE tips to two separate ops.  The sludge travels through the hoses, separated in the machine, and the remaining liquid goes out another hose to who knows where?  I haven't figured out all of the details yet.  There are no portable free-standing dental lights, but instead each dentist and assistant has a pair of safety glasses with light attachment.  No need to remember to adjust the overhead light!

   One thing that I have gotten used to is the concept of "six-hand dentistry."  We work in a team of three: dentist, dental assistant and day worker (D.W.) (local resident who has been hired by mercy ships to work as part of the dental team to translate between patient and dentist.)  The D.W.'s have been trained on the job to help assist as well as translate.  Essentially, the table ('counter') is located on the other side of the dentist from where I stand, so the D.W. assists me by retrieving items from the table while I continue to assist the dentist.  We never know what teeth we will be extracting of filling, prior to the patient sitting down, so we have to run back and forth to the supply room quite a bit.  This is another reason that 6 handed dentistry works so well.

    Think I must stop now.  More to write, but it is getting late.