My daughter's eyes

My daughter Ali spent 3 weeks in Maseno, Kenya working at a mission hospital run by a retired American doctor. I spent time there in 2003. Here is an excerpt from her last email from there:


The last time I wrote I was leaving to go watch a man undergo surgery to have his prostate removed. I arrived in the operating room (I hadn't scrubbed in but I was in scrubs, hat and mask) to find the surgeon from Kisumu making the first incision (there is no such thing as laproscopic or minimally invasive surgery here). Holly and I stood on risers to see over the surgeon's shoulder and answered his questions regarding Michael Jackson's death. Everything was going smoothly until the man started bleeding more than normal while the surgeon was trying to cut off all the blood supply to the prostate. Then to make matters worse, the power went out and the generator wouldn't start. As the surgeon is trying to see in the dark, the nurse is trying to explain to Holly how to put his cell phone light on to use as the surgeon's primary/only source of light. Unfortunately, the cell phone light was burnt out, so Holly offered to run the 200 yards or so to our house to get her head lamp. While Holly was sprinting home, the generator turns on and the crisis was diverted... or so we thought. The surgery continues (I will spare you those details as it wasn't too pretty) and the old man/anesthetist disappears for awhile. Holly and I realize that the bag that is supposed to inflate and deflate as the patient breathes is not moving. We tell the surgeon who yells for the anesthetist to return and about 5 minutes later he does. Fortunately, soon after we realized the lack of movement of the bag, it started again. Upon his return, the anesthetist told us that "some patients decide that life is worth living and so start to breathe again." GREAT! The bag stops moving again and while the anesthetist leaves the room again, he calls over his shoulder that I should squeeze the bag! I give Holly a look that pretty much says, "Are you F*&^ing kidding me?!?!?!?" and proceed to squeeze the bag (I guessed that every 4 seconds was appropriate!!!!) and breathe for the patient for about 10 minutes. The surgery continues... the patient is still bleeding profusely and the surgeon seems frustrated and worried. In order to get rid of the excess blood, there is a suction device (tube connected to a vacuum/jar) used. While the blood keeps coming, the suction tube keeps getting clogged. After the 3rd time of the surgeon realizing it's not suctioning b/c certain anesthetists and surgery techs are stepping on it, he threatens everyone in the room. Two minutes pass and it is clogged again. Luckily, no one's feet are involved this time. As the patient continues to bleed (I haven't seen that much blood ever), our favorite anesthetist proceeds to unhook the suction tube and start whipping it against the floor of the operating room to get the clog out. As he whips the tube, I'm standing on my riser trying to duck and avoid flying blood. Finally, the bleeding stopped and our patient was sewn up. I'm happy to report that he was discharged a week later and was able to pee on his own. Love surgery at Maseno Mission Hospital! There were many other stories and patients after that surgery. We had 8 people die in the hospital during our 3 week stay. Unfortunately, many of them could have been prevented. But, that is life as a practicing physician in Maseno and luckily there are some great stories of recovery to get you through each day