13th aug

So yesterday was grim, I guess I was given a chance to redeem myself for failing the girl from yesterday, today. She didn’t deliver yesterday, she delivered today, she delivered a 12 week dead baby. Was so sad, but I guess I was prepared for the scenario and her apparent naivety to the situation kinda gave us all some solace although it didn’t take away the fact that i had to handle a perfectly formed dead baby boy. I haven’t handled a dead foetus before, I was staring at it kinda looking for signs of life, almost willing it to open it eyes and defy all our expectations. But it was heavy, floppy and lifeless. To make matters worse its next home was the red plastic, infectious waste bucket –from is mother’s womb to clinical waste.
I think the smell of birth fluid actually consumed me today. The women here are expected to wash themselves down immediately after giving birth and then they put on the clothes that they were wearing during labour. These clothes are usually soaked or caked in birth fluid and really smell, the whole maternity ward smells of birth waste or menstruation fluid, and today i just felt sick.
The girl was put back to bed, wet from washing and smelly from labour. She was to be discharged in a few hours, and I suggested that she should be considered for a home, where she can be looked after for a while and taught how to care for herself. One of the medical officers was like ‘a place for mentally ill people?’.
Er I was like ‘no’ she isn’t mentally ill she just doesn’t have the mental capacity to live independently. Anyhow, she was discharged home. No further care, just a follow up if she has any abdominal complaints.
Argh, a part of me, no actually, most of me is so relieved that she is no longer in the hospital. Man alive it is so frustrating wanting to help someone and thinking of all the patient pathways available in the Uk for a women in her case but the cold reality of the Kenyan medical system always gets my head out of the clouds. I guess this girl epitomised all the things that frustrate me about the Kenyan medical service and seeing her and knowing that I could do absolutely nothing to help her made me sad. Even trying to console her didn’t seem to do anything. Maybe this says more about me needing gratification from my actions rather than just being content with the fact that they have been completed. Argh!!!!! This whole situation has left me thinking about so many things.

The afternoon was brilliant. Ashley, Keara and I had dinner at Dr phills house. Woowza!! Dr Phill lives in an amazing house, nothing like our village home. Clean, modern nice. And we were fed! I had chicken, beautifully cooked lovely chicken, i proper gorged myself I had 5 pieces of chicken, two chapattis, beef stew and orgali with spinach, with a paw paw and pineapple for afters. An Hour later I was stuffed, slightly ashamed of myself as everyone else had finished and were patiently waiting for e to finish,but mate the saying is, here in Africa ‘you eat all the food that is presented to you, as you do not know when you will eat next’. And with that in mind, boy did I eat.
Dr Phill is so sweet, his family are just lovely. He has a lovely wife, three children, the oldest boy being in his twenties and his youngest daughter 3. He also had adopted three boys with HIV and his dead brothers children. The house is full of laughter and children that really love him and his wife. I felt so at home their, I hope the love that I have for this man is conveyed in the pictures il post up as soon as I can.