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WHY GO ALL THE WAY TO INDIA? A CMRT Field Report By Daniel
E. Diamond, MD 1996 With
a last minute change of schedule, we headed off a month earlier than planned on
an adventure that has changed our lives and the lives of those we went to serve.
Although this was our second trip, this time we were profoundly touched. Our
story begins in September 1995 as we began planning and making arrangements. We
thought that everything we going according to plan when we found out that we
would not be going with the group we had originally planned to go with. We found
instead that we would be going with a group from Pennsylvania and we would be
leaving right after Christmas which was just two weeks away! We blitzed through
the holidays and scrambled to get our visas processed just in time to board the
plane on December 29th. Our group consisted of five of the members of
the Christian Medical Response Team: Stephanie Corey, my medical assistant;
Tammy Buitenveld, a health educator; Debbie, my wife and a RN; my ten year old
son, Paul and myself. We
spent New Year’s Day in Bangkok, Thailand seeing the sights and adjusting to
the time zone difference before we were off to Calcutta for three days of
intense exposure to the poverty of India. Calcutta assaults all of one’s
senses. Even if our pictures were “scratch and sniff” they wouldn’t do it
justice. The poverty is so blatant and brash that it easily overwhelms those of
us from the West. Perhaps those that suffer the worst are the children. We
measure poverty by the number of cars we own, they measure it by the number of
meals they eat per day. Again, we were privileged to see Mother Theresa. She and
others, such as the Assembly of God Hospital, are making a huge impact on what appears to be a hopeless
situation. However, even with all of the good that is being done, I am reminded
of the roots behind the city’s name: Calcutta means “house of Kali” and
Kali is the Hindu goddess of death. Bethel,
meaning “house of God” exists in sharp contrast. Bethel is an Indian run
compound consisting of a 600 child orphanage, an agricultural center, a
technical school, a Bible school, a primary/secondary school and a hospital. The
five of us met up with the east coast team of 25 in Bangalore, India and
traveled to Bethel together by bus. We arrived late at night, exhausted and
dirty. We were so happy to see the awe-inspiring kids the next morning. These
children are fed, clothed, educated and loved. They surrounded us with their
enthusiasm and excitement. Instantly, we had become their family. I was
“uncle” and Debbie was “auntie” and Paul
became known as his translated name, “Milk”. Its such a strange
feeling to have an family of over 600 children. For
two months before our arrival Bethel had sent runners out into the surrounding
villages for up to 90 Km away. People traveled by bus or on foot and camped
outside at the hospital waiting to be seen. Our team included a Plastic Surgeon,
a GYN surgeon, a GYN resident, an Anesthesiologist and Family Practice resident,
a fourth year medical student, several nursing personnel and myself. Working
with the four Indian trained physicians that usually run the hospital, we saw
about 250 patients per day and ran two full time operating rooms. Many came
hoping that we would be able to fix diseases that others had not been able to
cure. Some came just to see the “white doctors”. We saw many advanced cases
of TB, rheumatic heart disease, malaria, typhoid and a few cases of leprosy. The
patients are so poor that they are not able to afford the medicines that they
need. It costs, for example, about $15 per month to treat someone for TB.
Patients come in quite sick and will take the medicines for about three months
until they start to feel better then they stop because they have to feed their
family. They can’t afford to do both. They return a year or so later with
advanced disease. Some of the chest x-rays were amazing. People have little or
no concept of rheumatic heart disease. Strep throats go untreated and the number
of kids needing valve replacements is staggering. I
worked most closely with the head physician at the hospital, Dr. Finny. I smile
as I recall his exuberant laughter. He kept such a great perspective in the
midst of such a difficult situation. He works hard like we do. He does rounds on
all of the hospital patients each morning, sees patients in the clinic all day
and then returns after dinner to do rounds again. He lives close to the Hospital
in a small concrete house and drives a motor scooter to work. He gets paid $150
per month. Dr.
Finny and I worked out of his 10x12 office. The Indian system is a bit different
than ours. We sat in the office and the patients came in to see us. There was a
cot in the room in case someone had to be examined laying down but most of the
time people were evaluated while sitting. It really was quite a site. I had one
of our nurses with me and she and I each had a translator. We had five people in
the room before we had even any patients. When the patients came in they brought
their family members as well. Several times I would lift my head up and look
around the room and laugh at the scene of twenty to twenty five people crammed
in the room while one person it trying to talk about his disease. The Indians
have a different concept about personal space and confidentiality.
Dr. Finny taught me a great deal about tropical medicine but he was very
eager to learn about new advances that we knew about. He was eager to apply
ideas we had about implementing a new charting system. He had been saving (on
his salary?) each month in hopes that he could come to the United States for
three months to study medicine. Needles
are reused in the Hospital because of the exorbitant cost of new ones ($1.00
each). Although they sterilize them every time, each needle is used at least
five times before being thrown away. Unfortunately, the
nurses do not understand the concept of universal precautions and they
leave open needles at the bedside or on the counters. AIDS is epidemic in India.
They have such an incredible need for education. It
is so easy to sit back here in the comfort of our homes and our practices and
conclude that we really can’t make much of a difference with such a short
trip. We couldn’t be further from the truth. The people working so hard under
these conditions are eager to learn. They are encouraged by our commitment to
come to them; it validates their efforts. They need our expertise and our
friendship. The children need us as “family”. Rev. Mohan, the chaplain at
Bethel, said that we will never know the impact we have until we are in heaven.
The children talk about our visits for months after we are gone. I’ll conclude
this with one of the most memorable moments of the trip. I had been playing with
the children when I saw one of the girls sitting off by herself. I called her
name and asked her to come over. When she came over I gave her a hug, we played
for a while and then she walked off crying. I ran over to her and asked her why
she was crying and she said that she was crying “happy tears”. She was happy
because I had called her by name. Such little effort on my part had such an deep
impact on her heart.
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