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.