Last day

Today was a bittersweet last day. We found out one patient we'd admitted earlier this week had died, another was HIV positive, and a third (the subject of yesterday's post) still hadn't gone to surgery.

But I was also greeted this morning by three kids who ran over and hugged me enthusiastically, as they have every morning this week; they held my hands through most of rounds, taking turns tickling me and playing other games. Two kids politely asked me if they could use my camera. They used to demand "Give me your camera!" Now it's "Give me your camera, please!" (We taught them that they're nice kids, and should aim to sound that way.) The interns and medical officers wished us safe travels, and the Sisters in clinic said they'd miss us. We'll miss them too.

This has been an amazing month. We've learned so much, not just about the diseases that are prevalent here, but about the practice of medicine as a whole and the role we play in it. Even the saddest and most frustrating parts of the month have led to discussions about the ideal way to practice medicine vs. how it's done here. Dr. Brown has been doing this for longer than we have, and was able to share his thoughts about how things are, how things should be, and maybe how we can play a role in getting them from the former to the latter.

Namibians have a different perspective on healthcare, and it has been an honor and a privilege to be let in on their experience for the short time we've had here. The parents and patients have been very open, very welcoming, and very patient with their American visitors, and I know I'll really miss some of them. How lucky we are to have learned a bit about their world.