Making a Difference

It's so easy to get behind when there's something I feel like I should write everyday on a study abroad program. Last Friday was my first day in the Maternity hospital, also known as "the Sotomayor". Cassidy and I went mostly to do some interviews for a study one of our instructors is doing to explore the meaning of the childbirth experience for Ecuadorian women. That's what I've been doing this week in the mornings, too. It's really interesting talking to the women and learning about their experiences and perspectives. In the afternoon when their family members can visit (12-2), I go upstairs to help in the birthing room or one of the nurseries.


Friday night we went to an institute dance after a health fair. I'm not sure if I've explained how we do those. We teach 4 classes-Nutrition, Hypertension/Diabetes, Adult CPR, and First Aid/baby CPR-check everyone's blood pressure and blood sugar levels, and have another class for the kids. The plan is that each class lasts 20 minutes and they rotate through them all. (However, some people come really late, and since Tuesday night's started at 8:45 instead of 8pm, we cut the class times down to 15 minutes....so we could get home before midnight...) It's pretty fun. The trick is, if you speak the language, you need to be ready to take the bulk of the teaching and clarify. We also switch up assignments every time so we get experience teaching everything. It's fun, but that variability can also make it a little more difficult to feel super comfortable and confident. It's okay, though. We have fun with it and just try to involve people as much as possible so it's a great experience for all.



Anyway, so on Friday we had the health fair at 7 and went to the dance afterward. It was pretty great, since I saw at least ten guys from my mission there. It was fun to see them again and to crash the party. Most of the married people of our group opted not to come (we went straight there from doing a 2 hour health fair), which wasn't surprising. Some people were convinced to come after the health fair, but didn't get a chance to bring other clothes, so a good number just stayed in scrubs so people would not feel bad about not having "cute" attire. It was really funny to see this pack of 12 gringas bust into a latin dance and start dancing like crazy Americans.


I learned that at their dances here, people tend to line up in two parallel lines as couples. Then, the songs just meld one into another, so if you want to dance with someone else, you need to say you want a drink or need to go to the bathroom to escape. (Even the Latin guys told me that's what they do...and that such an attempt to get away can be foiled if the girl offers to accompany them to go get a drink...hahaha) There are very set dances that people know, like merengue, salsa, etc., so when they ask how we dance, they're a little confused that we just....do, without such order. Their most similar dancing to our craziness is what they do as they rock out to reggaton (reggae). So we were good at that. It was great fun. I loved that some of my old mission leaders patiently tried to teach me their ways, too.


Saturday was a fun day at the beach...check the class blog for more details, because I was in charge of writing for that day.

Sunday is generally the best day of rest (I'm so glad to be here with a BYU group, so the Sabbath is observed!) A while before sunset, a group of us went out and walked up to the lighthouse up on a hill. We also went with some guys from the ward here/mission friends. We were able to accomplish just what I'd envisioned; we arrived there in the cool time of the evening when we'd be able to feel the fresh breeze from the ocean and in time to watch the sunset. I never knew the sun set so quickly here! I don't know what exactly about being on the equator makes it so you can really see a difference in sunset time (I understand it's a different angle and perspective toward the sun, though); it just zips down and slips away as you watch, rather than being so gradual and almost unperceptable like at home. It was interesting and beautiful.

Monday and Tuesday I was in the maternity hospital. Monday was really hard. In the couple hours I was actually up in the labor area, I saw a stillbirth and a spontaneous abortion (aka miscarriage). That was sad in itself, but I was also saddened to find that there is no emotional support for those women. I understand that they don't have a psychologist on staff and that the staff member/patient ratios are not the same as at home, too. As I talked to a doctor about it, she said it was a sad truth. She herself had had a term stillbirth and knew the emotional pain it brings from personal experience. However, as she stated, people just see the women crying and don't ask why or assume it's due to physical pain. She said she tried to talk with them and teach such mothers when she had time.

I should explain what it's like a little bit here, at least if you're in the normal (poor) part of the hospital. All the patients are out in one big public room so the few nurses, doctors and staff members can make rounds more quickly. If you have more money, you can get a private or semiprivate room, but that's rare. Sometimes there's a sheet or something that covers you and provides some privacy, but mostly patients just know to avert their eyes from one another, because sheets and robes are pulled away and private parts are out there in view of all the other 30 people in the room. If you scream or react to pain, you are told that will hurt your baby or slow your healing process. A patient I helped who returned to the hospital with infection of her C-section wound was told she must not really want to heal, and that if she wanted to, she would be just fine.

As I continued in the pre-birthing room doing labor support (counterpressure on the women's lower backs or on the front of their knees during contractions, etc.), I was suddenly asked to help a woman who was saying something was coming out. I went to help, finding that was indeed the case. When I told a doctor, he asked around a minute, realized the patient was in the miscarriage line, and went on with his business. Soon, the little body was all the way out, and I let another staff member know, but she just kept on with her business. In the meantime, I just stayed with the crying mother, answering her questions, and applying counterpressure as she continued to have contractions to expel the placenta. It was probably 10 or more minutes before the placenta was out, and no one from the hospital staff came to explain anything, make any assessment, or anything. Minutes continued to pass, and my teacher had been over a couple times to check on us. She finally relayed the message that they were waiting for a space in the OR/for the anesthesiologist so the mother could be taken in there to assure that everything was out of the uterus. (otherwise, hemorrhage and infection easily occur) I was glad I could finally tell the mom what was going on. It was just frustrating to see this mom suffer and cry silently, covering her face with her sheet as she used it to wipe her eyes, without any aknowledgement from a nurse or anyone. Then, she just had her poor 18 week old child lying there between her legs, soon followed by a placenta for at least 20 minutes. All this without someone from the hospital to teach her why such things happen, what they were going to do to help her, or anything. I don't know that I did much, either. I could answer her questions and did reassure her of the omniscience and understanding of God. Maybe the counterpressure doesn't seem like much to see, but she said it helped with the pain. Maybe things like holding her hand or just caressing her shoulder didn't really help, but I wanted her to know that someone was there, that even though I don't really know how it feels, I was sorry for her loss, for her pain. And it made me hope someone else had been there for my mom, sisters and loved ones who'd experienced similar loss, too.

Monday night several of us were invited to have dinner with a family in the ward. The hermana that invited us, Martha, teaches relief society. She and her husband have three little girls, Diana, Martha, and Emma. The little sister (of big Martha), Marjorie, just got home from a mission in Chile 3 months ago and also lives with them. We had a fun night just sitting and talking with them. It was very Ecua to just sit and visit for several hours, then have them share their dinner with us and visit for another hour. No one else who went was completely fluent (not that I always know what's said perfectly, either) but enough to always get what was going on and participate. I love that we felt super honored to be invited to their home and they were so pleased that we accepted the invitation. I guess it's just the shared joy. I sat by the youngest when I was up on the stand the other Sunday to speak. She had cute pictures prepared for each of us. I thought mine was pretty impressive for a 9 year-old.

Wednesday I was out in the community, which was pretty fun. We got some 24 hr intake recalls from the kids to understand what they're eating normally and what they perceive as healthy. I also interviewed several of the mothers about their typical alimentation at home and their perceptions on health. We were told to be ready to go at noon, so I didn't start any more interviews at that point. However, the ambulance didn't come to pick us up until 12:30, so Marie and I enjoyed a good 30 mins of tag and red light-green light with the kids. They loved it, and so did we. We also got to go to the temple again, where I saw some mission friends, as always.

The today part is pretty great, too, but we have a meeting with the nursing school of Guayaquil that we need to leave for now. I've obviously been working on this post and not publishing for a while since I've needed to finish it, but each day, I just feel like there's more to add. So, since Michael is now objecting. I must mush. I'll figure out some pics later.