Sunday, May 31, 2015

Sunday wrapped up the religious retreat at the medical center. The previous night, several of us were invited to Dr. Clement’s home to practice playing Amazing Grace for the morning prayer. As there were only two available violins, I opted to strangle a few cats (read: play) the night before and let Christine and Nora have all the fun at the actual prayer service. Keiko played the piano while Gina strummed some chords on the guitar. Despite Derick’s angelic, soprano voice, he refused to delight the crowd with his raw talent. Dr. Clement and his wife were incredibly welcoming, sharing something along the lines of Indian lemonade and a snack that reminded me of pakoras (a fried snack: Google it, they’re deliciously addictive). To everyone’s delight they also videotaped our professional-level playing.

At the prayer service on Sunday morning, everyone played beautifully—including Keiko, who did an excellent job of faking on the keyboard (it was stuck on a setting that played synthesized 70’s-like music on half the keys). The prayer attendees loved it.

Almost everyone at the medical center is fairly religious, which is apparent even in their medical practice. For example, when Nora and I witnessed an emergency caesarean section, they actually took the time to sit the girl up before giving her the epidural to pray collectively. I’m not sure how prevalent that is in the OR in the United States, though I think we were both a little surprised. The rest of the day was relatively slow as it was meant to be a day of rest. We attended evening rounds later with Sanil, who was a fabulous friend and teacher during our stay.

While it didn’t occur the same day, the c-section was certainly one of my most memorable experiences during the trip and as such, I think I should do it justice. Previous to this, I had never witnessed a live birth, but following the case, Nora and I left with the impression, “I think I’ll consider adopting” (joking).

But really. The experience was certainly the most violent thing I have ever witnessed. Something along the lines of the movie Alien (you know that scene where the alien baby comes out of her stomach? Yea, like that). The baby was breeched and in fetal distress, making the situation urgent. Nora and I were called out of Dr. Muralidar’s primary care office to witness it. In the OR, Dr. Chako—a feisty, 80-something-year-old woman who would rival any Bengal tiger or US surgeon in the stereotypical attitude (sorry Nora and Al-Faraaz)—was the main surgeon. Without sparing a moment after the prayer and scrubbing-in, she squarely planted her flip-flopped feet, took her attack stance and dove in. Dr. Chako made a huge incision across the entire abdomen, with more urgency than precision from our viewpoint, and as she could not get a firm grasp on the baby without it slipping back inside (this occurred several times), she reached in up to her elbows to pull the baby out from underneath. This still proved rather difficult, and eventually, the baby came out, one leg at a time, bloody, blue, completely limp and not breathing. She immediately started compressing(?) the baby, shouted to a nurse who rushed in and immediately put it under oxygen. About 5 minutes later, to everyone’s relief it started breathing. Nora and I hoped the baby was not left with any significant brain damage, though I’m not certain at this stage of our education how long it takes for something like that to occur.

At any rate, it was truly an experience. Upon my return to Rush, I asked a few doctors if c-sections are typically so “violent,” and it appears that this experience was not so incredibly different from the norm. Who knew? It certainly left me with a lot of compassion and respect for women. 

How can I sum up my parting thoughts on this trip? Impossible. It was such an incredible experience, from both a cultural and medical perspective. To anyone thinking of going on a trip in the future, do it. It’s highly independent, difficult at times and you’re required to leave your American ego and luxuries at the airport door—squatting shower when the water is actually working, no AC (so I nearly feinted once from the heat; I’m no worse for wear), fans when the electricity works, rice and curry for days (even when it’s good, 3 times daily every day is a bit much) and spiders, bugs and lizards to keep you company at night. It’s character building. But working in the mountains with rural villages, contrasting how medicine is performed on the opposite of the world where resources are low, and discovering an entirely different culture, it’s the experience of a lifetime.

- Kristen