How can I go back after all this?

So much has happened since the last time I updated that I really should be updating via multiple posts, but the time I have at this internet café in conjunction with the imminent possibility of power cutting out on me (as it usually does) have persuaded me to keep it to one post-- as short and simple as possible.

Christine and I went to Toubab Dialaw last weekend, a seaside town that only partially reflects the meaning of its name. It is far removed from Dakar enough to not be overrun by too many Toubabs, but also close enough to still offer hotels and restaurants. We basically splurged on food while there-- buying and eating everything we've been missing over the last few weeks with no shame: spaghetti, omlettes, candy, chocolate, fruit juice, wine, etc. I even had bread with cheese one morning-- it was really exciting at the time. The hotel we stayed at at 12,000 fCFA (~6 dollars) a night had a shower AND a toilet AND a mosquito net--- what more could we have asked for? Ontop of all these pleasant surprises, it felt just as it was described in the guide book-- like a Tolkien village.

After I came home (yes, Sébi is home now) from the weekend retreat, the pace of life seemed to pick up ten fold. Now that Palu season is just about over every other illness that was apparently lying dormant all that time, decided to show up at the clinic. Some highlights include a girl with warts/callouses all over both her hands, a kid almost projectile vomitting on me had his mother not back handed him in anticipation, a girl with a severe gum infection (even though no one here is trained in dental health, we still treated her by injecting amoxicillin into her gum), another girl who had an eye infection eating into her iris, a woman who bled the color violet, and an apparent outbreak of anemia. That was all Monday and Tuesday.

On Wednesday, I guess the entire town decided that it had no health issues-- except for one grandmother. She came in, had a consultation, and was given injections of novalgen. On her way out, she collapsed, perhaps fainted, and then in her half conscious state started to vomit all over herself. To all the student advisors at Grinnell, this is where your SA training would come in. Ndiaye, one of the nurses/ the guardian of the clinic, put her in the safety position while she continued to vomit. He then got hydrocortisone, mixed it with water, injected it into her, and thankfully, stabilized her enough to stop the vomitting. After I left the clinic Wednesday, I went home and was surprised ambushed by my host sisters who decided that with a baptism the next day, it would be a great day to braid my hair. My hair is now in micros.

Thursday after work, I attended the Muslim baptism from 1pm to 10pm. It apparently didn't end until 2am. I showed up with my hair braided, in a traditional Senegalese outfit that my host sister lent me, and with the fear of god in me because my sisters told me that I would have to dance Sereer infront of everyone. The baptism itself, was... not really a baptism. It was really a fashion show for the mother, and the baby who was supposed to be baptized just slept tucked away in a room where no one could see him. I expected 40 or so people to be there. When I got there, there was a tent and maybe over a hundred people. We ate lunch at 3pm, and after, all the old ladies danced Sereer. It was pretty awesome, especially because I wasnt the one in the middle of the crowd being gawked at. Between then and dinner, a woman read out the entire gift registry. This in conjunction with the two parade-like entrances in which the mother came in (without the baby whos baptism it was) went all the way until dinner at 8. After dinner, it was just pure dancing until the end of the night. Thankfully, there was no toubab spectacle that night.

Yesterday is the reason for this blog title. My supervisor and I were sitting in the consultation room when we heard a car screech. Not until someone ran in and told us was it confirmed that someone was hit by a car. I jumped up from where I was sitting and ran out with everyone else. NDiaye was already there with her. She was maybe 15 or 16, lying on the ground, crying as blood spewed out of her mouth. Her legs were in a tangle and her teeth were knocked out. Gendarmeries showed up on the scene really quickly, made everyone back up and give her space. They let me stay by NDiaye's side, probably assuming I was a doctor or capable of helping because I had the health clinic's smock on. There in the middle of the national highway, they used a fulaar and cardboard boxes as a stint. I wasnt paying close attention to what it was, but I think Ndiaye injected Valium into her as well. The Gendarmes chalked the area around her, and she was carried off into the shade on the side of the road. It took the police 15 to arrive, and the ambulence 30+. Im no doctor, but from what I gather, I think she suffered only from a fractured leg, loss of teeth, and a couple scrapes and bruises. Apparently roughly every two weeks an accident like this happens-- the last two taking the leg of a girl and the life of a mother.

Later that afternoon, being Friday, were vaccinations. No babies had time to pee or puke up on me this time, though, as I didnt actually get to spend much time weighing babies as I usually do. NDiaye pulled me into the "salle de soigner" where I played the role of nurse and he, doctor. Our first case was a 12 or so year old boy who looked like he got part of his head burned and then something smashed into it afterwards. I helped hold him down while NDiaye took a razor to his head and scraped off the hair around the wound and then all the extra skin in the way of the open wound. Then, NDiaye proceeded to put five stitches into his head which required the help of two others to hold the boy down. I dont know why he didn't get valium like the girl did earlier in the day.. maybe because the pharmacy was already locked.

Then the minute the boy was off the table, a girl came in with a nasty welt on her shin. It was clearly an infected cut. NDiaye first took a syringe and injected amoxicillin into the cut, but that resulted in a jet stream (quite literally) of pus squirting out of the other side of the wound. It took three grown men to hold her down while NDiaye cleaned up the wound like he had the other time-- dosing a long bandage with alcohol and literally stuffing it into the wound (Happy Thanksgiving, btw).