Our Land Rover bumped along dusty, narrow streets swerving to avoid pot holes, stray dogs and people on mopeds. We arrived outside a high cream wall to be greeted by the patients son waiting for us. Walking through in to the small compound with low buildings around the outside, chickens scratching in the dust and a girl drawing water from a well I was struck by how simple peoples lives are here. The son led us into a dim room where his father was waiting. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I saw a frail, emaciated old man sitting looking at me, the tumour in his mouth causing his lips to appear swollen and distended. Through a hole that the tumour had created in his lip, saliva and the soup that he was trying to eat was flowing out down his chest and onto his grubby vest.
'When are the doctors going to come and give my father treatment?' was one of the first things that the son asked us. All thoughts of spending time on small talk and asking about the family as we had been advised went out of the window. 'They told us on the ship that a doctor would come with treatment', the son said again. It is common amongst Africans to think that we in the West can cure anything, even terminal cancer. Even my translator who is educated and is an accountant was surprised that we can't cure all cancer. How do you tell someone who has been hoping for a cure that there is none?
One of the biggest barriers here is lack of education, misinformation and false hope (given, in part, by local doctors who tell the patient that they can be cured just so the family will cough up money for treatment). By the end of our visit, the family still had not understood what we were there to do and that we could not offer a cure. It will take many visits and much relationship building with this man and his family, and indeed all our other patients before we have made them understand a little of the situation they are in and the fact that their relative is, in fact, dying. It is so different from the West where we appreciate directness and have some understanding of how our bodies work and what cancer is.
I am writing this to you all under a blanket in my room after spending all of last night awake with a stomach bug. Apparently bugs are very common on the ship due in part to so many people living in such a confined space and the air conditioning which carries things from room to room. I was also told by Todd last night that the water is chlorinated to within an inch of its life to kill anything that may be lurking. However this also means that it can strip any good bacteria in your stomach leaving you open to all sorts! I am hoping to build up an immunity and that this is a one off. I'm not sure what I expected in my first week but it was not to be laid up in bed!
This last week has been far more challenging than I thought. Building friendships is going to take time. It is frustrating not having close friends to share life with as I had in Leeds however God has been speaking to me through my illness, loneliness and frustrations. I can feel myself drawing closer to him and in return he has reached out and comforted me. I have great hope that I will be changed in so many ways, even though all seems very overwhelming now. Thank you for all your words of support and love, I really appreciate how many people are thinking of me.
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