Dear Diary, Part 3

Day 15 – Monday

Ugh. So I was leaving the hospital late last night and saw a man, dead as a doornail, lying in a pool of his own blood in the back of a truck. Just lying there, with about a half a dozen people milling about like he was no more than a sack of potatoes. Gave me the willies.

I found out today he’d been one of two casualties from a horrific traffic accident. There were four guys involved: one was killed instantly (the guy in the back of the truck); two others were rushed to the hospital and saved by the doctors on call; the fourth was left to die in his car because they couldn’t get him out. Can you imagine? They literally had to look this guy in the eye and be like “Sorry, mate. You’re just gonna have to lie there all twisted and trapped and bleed to death while we take these other two to the hospital.” Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. Seems so senseless to me. But then they don’t exactly have the jaws of life here. Ugh.


Day 16 – Tuesday

It was another long day today. Spent most of it with Thomas in the main store room trying to make headway on an actual physical count of the entire store room inventory. Somebody had the grand idea that we needed to import the entire formulary with stock counts, which frankly doesn’t make sense to me since those counts are going to change (several times) before anybody knows how to modify the data in the system. But this is what I’ve been asked to do so I’m doing it. At the rate we’re going, though, we’ll be counting well into next week. Only I’m meant to leave on Friday and I’ve got a good three days worth of stuff to do after we’ve finished the physical count. On the plus side, I did get to hang with Thomas (he’s a close second to my other favorite, Stan), which was cool. He’s a totally sharp guy (confounding devotion to Benny Hinn notwithstanding) and a blast to be around. In addition to pursuing scholarship opportunities for further study in Canada, he’s going to school right now for psychosocial counseling so that he can be more effective when dispensing ARVs to HIV patients (pharmacy folks spend a really long time with each patient explaining the oft-mentioned complicated regimens that require strict adherence and he thought taking a course in counseling would help him). He also shows real enthusiasm for this new system I’m trying to implement and seems to be grasping the big picture business process concepts better than any of the other guys. I think I’m going to recommend that he gets added as one of the project leaders.

Oh, and just because this made me giggle: I was leaving the hospital last night after checking email for word from mSupply and there was the hospital guard, bundled within an inch of his life (Zambians hate to be cold and will wear turtlenecks in 80-degree weather) in a giant poofy ski parka, a scarf, two pairs of gloves…and a Santa hat. :-P And me without my camera.


Day 17 – Wednesday

It’s hard to express the gratitude I’m feeling today. I mean, we lost power again and two days before I’m meant to leave I’ve had to throw out the whole plan for the next phase of the implementation and start on a new one which is going to accelerate the timetable and the things I’ve got to do before I go, but – I don’t know…I’ve just – I’ve got that Wes-Bentley-and-the-plastic-bag-from-American-Beauty thing going on right now.

Maybe it’s as simple as feeling like I’ve got a purpose here; or the fact that I was recently the beneficiary of the proverbial “kindness of strangers”. Maybe it’s because I managed to squeeze in a run before dinner tonight or because I’m figuring out this mSupply thing and I’m enjoying the satisfaction that comes with learning something new. Or maybe it’s just because the weather has been really nice. I don’t know. But it’s there, and it’s kind of overwhelming, which means I haven’t the first clue how to write about it.


Day 18 – Thursday

Lost power again today. Water, too.

Watched a toddler splash happily (and obliviously) in a puddle of her own pee while she waited to be seen by the doctor.

Ate lunch with blood-splattered mid-wives who looked (and sounded, frankly) as though they were fresh from battle.

And I found out that someone in the pharmacy’s been pilfering drugs. I don’t know who, but I have a sinking feeling I might.


Day 19 – Friday

So it was my last official day at Saint Francis today. I was supposed to have left this morning but I ended up staying an extra day to wrap up a few things, so I’ll leave tomorrow – bright and early on the 5.45am bus.

I feel good, I guess – I accomplished what I came to do and then some: I turned in a project plan; I left the guys with detailed next steps; I even managed to get the formulary imported and got the guys trained and starting to do a few of the more basic tasks in the system, which was more than I ever dreamed – but I feel sad, too.

I dug it here. For all of its frustrations and for all of the setbacks, I totally dug it. I dug the people, I dug the work, I even dug taking a bath with a bucket (although I’ll be thrilled to finally shave my legs…). I don’t know. I’m a sentimental mush, so it should surprise no one that my leaving feels so bittersweet.

Oh, and I found out who’s been pilfering the drugs from the store room. It was not, as I had suspected, Stanislas. I’m both relieved that it’s not and embarrassed that I jumped so quickly to that conclusion.

He was sweet today, Stanislas. It was the end of the day and everyone was knocking off but Thomas and me. Stan came in to the office where we were working. “So I’ll see you on Monday,” he said, grinning and extending his hand.

“Monday!” I said, taking it and giving him the traditional three-part handshake. “But I will not be here. I am leaving tomorrow, Stanislas. You know that.”

“Ok,” he said and nodded, his hand still firmly grasping mine. “So I will just see you on Monday then.”

“Stanislas! What do you mean, ‘See you on Monday,’” Jeremiah laughs. “But she cannot be here on Monday if she is leaving tomorrow!”

“I am just saying she can’t go,” Stan says.

“Ah, but I must,” I tell him.

“Ok, then you will just have to come back,” he says. Then, “You will come back?”

“I hope so,” I say.

“When,” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I tell him truthfully. “Soon, I hope. But we will see.”


Anyway, so that’s that. I’ve got one week left in Lusaka to pack and ship stuff home and write thank you notes and get ready for my Europe trip, and then my little adventure will come to an end. I feel in some ways like I’ve been here for years, in others like I just got here yesterday. Either way, though, I can’t believe it’s over.

…

Yeah, I’m kinda really sad. :-(