Though air-conditioned, the operating theatre here is not the cool 60 degrees that they spoil us with in the States. For those who have never been scrubbed into a surgery, once you add the surgical cap, a mask over the nose and mouth, a full-length gown, rubber gloves, and surgical lamps aimed at you, things can get pretty hot. The OR has to be very cold to keep the surgeon from dripping sweat onto the patient, as this is less than sterile. In the US, gowns are made of an impermeable paper (not sure how they do it), so they’re actually quite light. Here, one wears the big galoshes, a heavy rubber apron, and then a cloth gown over that.
The other day I was invited to scrub in to get a closer look at the surgery. I excitedly washed up (with a bar of soap, not the single use sponge/brush/fingernail cleaner from the Ttates), and put on my gown and gloves. Then, I noticed that the room was a little too quiet. One of the nurses had turned off the air conditioning because it was “too cold” in the room. Kenyans hate air conditioning; multiple people have told us that they came down with pneumonia from being around it.
It started with my back; beads of sweat marching towards my waistband. Soon, there was a line of sweat beads visible to me, dancing on my eyebrows, just waiting for my signal to drop onto the surgical field. The surgeon across from me displayed no sign of discomfort. It looked as it he’d just powdered his face. Soon, I would be soaked; I knew this. I was simply standing there, definitely not exerting myself, but the sweat did not abate. By the time the surgery ended, I had only dripped a little bit, and not near the incision, so that was good. However, my scrubs were not in were not so lucky. I took off my butcher’s apron, which revealed the damage. Those of you who saw me or picture of me at the Fitzpatrick wedding in Phoenix a few years ago have some idea of my appearance at this time. Malesi (a nurse) looked me head to toe and with a slight smile said, “you should change now”. What he didn’t say, but was on his face, was “crazy mzungu…”.
I am very much enjoying the operating theatre, but my European hypothalamus and sweat glands are not doing a good job of adapting to the climate here. I have since been asked “why do you sweat so much?”, and heard comments such as “you’re really suffering”. I’ll survive, but this is also the “coldest” time of year. Perhaps I’ll go on surgery sabbatical in January…
Oh, I can picture it - poor baby!
ReplyDeleteYesterday I went to the Delaware County Fair with your aunt and uncle and Grandma to hear Abby sing the National Anthem to begin the "Jugette" - precursor to the LBJ. She did a great job! I won $6.60 betting on a trotting race. Later in the day it stormed, finally, blowing the umbrella off the picnic table and into the screen door (we now have a dog door that Baker has availed himself of - in and out, right through the corner of the screen that has now pulled away from the door)and blowing all the white towels off the line and into the mud (not much grass these days, what with all the dry weather and heat.)
No word on Finn; I refrain from calling C every day to see how things are progressing. The question to me, when I was pregnant in England: "Oh, you're still with us?" It drove me mad.
Much love -
McMom
funny post.
ReplyDeletei had a dream last night that I was at your wedding! of course it was nothing like your actual wedding. i dont remember much of it now, but i remember that e was mad at aunt kiki for wearing what she called "rude colors" haha (orange). i forget the rest.
stay cool! (in more ways than one!)
the above post is nancy conger, ps..... as is this one :)
ReplyDeleteThis post had such great visuals and I could absolutely relate to the heat and what you must have looked like, but I'm sure you felt even worse! I guess you will truly appreciate certain things about America that might not have entered your consciousness otherwise?
ReplyDeleteInquiring minds want to know: what kind of surgery was it?
Much love,
Mom/L