Today has been my third day at a Ghanaian hospital, and it's been as head-bangingly frustrating as the others. Ellyn and I arrived at 8:25 (Ophelia, our housekeeper served breakfast at 7:45 instead of 7:15) but no-one had noticed, never mind cared! I am now accepting this as 'the Ghanaian way'. As soon as we arrived we saw there were no labouring women. With Work the World's advice of being proactive in our minds, we went to theatre to ask if there was an elective caesarean list running that day. "No", we were told, "but there will be an emergency case soon". We legged it back to the staff room to put our theatre kit on, and went back to theatre hoping we hadn't missed it. The doctor (who is awesome) told us to wait in the corridor and we'd be told when the woman was brought over. We waited for an hour, and again thought "this is just the Ghanian way". After another half an hour I asked a nurse when the woman was coming. "We've just had a phone call", she said (bollocks; we didn't hear a phone ringing) "we'll do it tomorrow". How big an emergency was it?!
Another biting-tongue moment came later on in the day when a para 4 (woman giving birth to her 5th baby, for the civvies!) came in, and Ellyn and I suggested she stood up to use gravity to help her baby descend. The midwife in question replied "no, we don't allow that because when the baby is born they'll hit their head on the floor". We mentioned that in the UK we have 1:1 care in established labour, to which the response was "we don't have the resources for that". I tactfully replied that there were presently 5 midwives staring at this poor woman (2 of which had previously been kipping on patient beds), and perhaps we could deviate from their normal practice on this occasion. They were fairly insistent I VE-d (vaginally examined) this poor woman, and couldn't accept that just because she wasn't fully dilated at the last examination doesn't mean we might not be now, and no, it's not okay to shove your fingers in on an ad hoc basis with no warning or consent.
After the day at work and a big debrief a group of us braved Takoradi's circle market. If there are any GoT watchers reading this: think Flea Bottom. For everyone else, try to imagine the smell of rotting fish being a welcome distraction from the stench of the open sewers running alongside each pavement, and rats. Lots of rats. The people living in the inner-city had no issues with grabbing us and steering us towards their stall. Children were grasping us and shouting "abruni!" and "osei!". The passageways were so narrow we were walking single file, and even that was too hard at times. Walking through that market was the closest I've come to feeling unsafe here: the residents could see we were the only white people for quite a way, were trying all tactics to get us to buy from them, and got fairly irate when that didn't happen.
Patient and marketplace assault aside, I think I'm getting the hang of other aspects of Ghanian life. I've woken up to find I've been sharing my bed with a lizard. I've become an expert at negotiating prices for EVERYTHING. I've managed with no running water for 2 days. I've chosen fabrics and am having them made into custom clothing. I've stopped bracing each time a taxi swerves off the road to avoid hitting a goat. I now dance slightly less like a white woman.
After we all returned from work we had a house BBQ with lots of alcohol and dancing. The stereotypes unfortunately turned out to be true; the black men were dancing like pros and us white girls were sort of shuffling 2 beats behind.
This weekend a group of us are heading to Cape Coast to do the canopy walk at Kakum forest, stroke some crocodiles and stay at a hotel with running water, and hot running water at that!
I can't wait.
Love Emily x
Another biting-tongue moment came later on in the day when a para 4 (woman giving birth to her 5th baby, for the civvies!) came in, and Ellyn and I suggested she stood up to use gravity to help her baby descend. The midwife in question replied "no, we don't allow that because when the baby is born they'll hit their head on the floor". We mentioned that in the UK we have 1:1 care in established labour, to which the response was "we don't have the resources for that". I tactfully replied that there were presently 5 midwives staring at this poor woman (2 of which had previously been kipping on patient beds), and perhaps we could deviate from their normal practice on this occasion. They were fairly insistent I VE-d (vaginally examined) this poor woman, and couldn't accept that just because she wasn't fully dilated at the last examination doesn't mean we might not be now, and no, it's not okay to shove your fingers in on an ad hoc basis with no warning or consent.
After the day at work and a big debrief a group of us braved Takoradi's circle market. If there are any GoT watchers reading this: think Flea Bottom. For everyone else, try to imagine the smell of rotting fish being a welcome distraction from the stench of the open sewers running alongside each pavement, and rats. Lots of rats. The people living in the inner-city had no issues with grabbing us and steering us towards their stall. Children were grasping us and shouting "abruni!" and "osei!". The passageways were so narrow we were walking single file, and even that was too hard at times. Walking through that market was the closest I've come to feeling unsafe here: the residents could see we were the only white people for quite a way, were trying all tactics to get us to buy from them, and got fairly irate when that didn't happen.
Patient and marketplace assault aside, I think I'm getting the hang of other aspects of Ghanian life. I've woken up to find I've been sharing my bed with a lizard. I've become an expert at negotiating prices for EVERYTHING. I've managed with no running water for 2 days. I've chosen fabrics and am having them made into custom clothing. I've stopped bracing each time a taxi swerves off the road to avoid hitting a goat. I now dance slightly less like a white woman.
After we all returned from work we had a house BBQ with lots of alcohol and dancing. The stereotypes unfortunately turned out to be true; the black men were dancing like pros and us white girls were sort of shuffling 2 beats behind.
This weekend a group of us are heading to Cape Coast to do the canopy walk at Kakum forest, stroke some crocodiles and stay at a hotel with running water, and hot running water at that!
I can't wait.
Love Emily x
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