Patients clean and ready- check.
Patients admitted and medically & dentally fit- check.
Presentation finished and copies printed- check.
It was the day everyone had been waiting for. The day the patients would find out their fate. Some would be told they were going to die and that nothing could be done for them. Others told they were going to get a new face. It was a day that everyone would remember for different reasons and from varying perspectives.
Dawit’s dirt-stained white Toyota Landcruiser rolled up the driveway on yet another glorious sunny day in Menagasha. The 4x4 car was met by a similar response to any vehicle arriving at the Cheshire- swarmed by tens of patients, peering into the dusty windows to see who or what lies behind the glass.
Out stepped three world-renowned European surgeons; Dominique, Brigitte, and Larry. One was the first to perform weightless surgery in space, the other with over 60 publications to her name and the third with his own private plastic surgery business in the UK, on his third visit to Ethiopia with Facing Africa. All different personalities in their own right, they were united by a lovingness to offer all that they can to these misfortunate people. The surgeons were accompanied by two Anaesthesiologists; Bill and Patrick, and two project managers/ theatre nurses; 
Anthea and Mick. As soon as the surgeons stepped foot onto the Cheshire soil, making their way to the guest house where lunch was prepared, they got cracking and began pushing and prodding at the patients faces, discussing what kind of operation they might need to perform together and how.
After lunch, we started our powerpoint case-based presentation with each patient coming in the room, introduced and examined by the team. After a discussion (some lasting 1 minute, others 45!), a decision was made whether to operate or not. The team was limited due to equipment, time and relevant expertise. Unfortunately one of the surgeons who deals with tumours had cancelled at the last minute, meaning that these types of cases were automatically excluded.
It was a long day and by the end of it we were all exhausted. The surgical team all headed off back to their hotel in Addis whilst we stayed at the Cheshire, ready to start operating after the weekend.
On Monday we got cracking and started operating- first up, our little princess; Mistikina- for eight dental extractions to be done by Dr Hiba. The patient was to have a short burst anaesthetic, so Hiba only had ten to fifteen minutes to do them all. As it was the first patient, the operating theatre was packed full of all the surgeons, anaesthetists and staff with all eyes on Hiba. Naturally, I scrubbed up to assist in her monumentous task and
together we prepared ourselves for Hiba’s toughest challenge yet. Bill, the anaesthetist, injected the magical white potion into Mistikina’s veins and her eyes began to glaze over. After a few seconds, she was out cold. “Get going, you haven’t got long”, Bill said. Like a poet in motion, Hiba began preparing the mouth with her dental instruments then with one flick of the wrist, out popped the teeth, one by one. After they were all out, some required stitching up and as Hiba struggled on the final stitches, Bill reminded us that we didn’t have long and the anaesthetic would rapidly be wearing off. I gave Hiba a hand and put in the last remaining stitches but as I started the final one there was a hand movement from Mistikina, followed by another. She was waking up, fast. With the sweat building up on my brow, I put in the final stitch and the job was done. During the daily surgical schedule, two teams of surgeons were operating on patients at the same time in two different theatres, so Hiba and I would spread ourselves in between them and try to learn as much as possible by watching, listening, practicing and assisting. I even managed to intubate two patients.
After operating, we would head out to dinner with the surgical team. It was a real honour to be in company of so many diverse and interesting people, each with their own unique stories and achievements. We would talk about each others stories and how we came to be out in Africa doing what we were doing.
The surgical team were interested in our own particular story and why we have decided to take a year out of work in the UK to come and work in Africa. I think the fact that we’re Muslim also adds to people’s curiosity as perhaps they wouldn’t normally come across Muslims being involved in such matters and experiences. I therefore feel it more important that Hiba and I continue to work hard, travel and be open to new ideas and concepts as these experiences contain a knowledge hidden like pearls in the ocean, requiring more effort than just picking up a book and reading.
Having had their surgery and in a stable state, the patients would return to the Cheshire home for post-operative care and attention. My daily routine would start with a ward round at 08:30 which would mainly comprise of wound inspection (for infection and healing), pain relief and nutritional issues. This would be followed by wound care and removal of stitches when the time was right.
After all this was done for each patient (roughly 38), I would have time to relax and enjoy the clear blue skies, strong sun and fresh breeze. I managed to come across an old acoustic guitar that I re-strung and tuned, and I would sit on the freshly cut grass and play songs for the children. At first, they were shy and I played alone, but soon they became interested and one by one they sat down and listened to my tunes. After a short while, a small crowd of some twenty or so patients sat round in a little huddle, listening intently to the notes my hands strummed away. The mother of one of the patients, a woman in her forties, stood up and started singing an Ethiopian version of Hallelujah. She closed her eyes, clutched her chest with both hands, looked up to the heavens and began to sing and dance. She was followed by one of the noma patients, and everyone got involved and began to clap their hands together to the beat. It was great to see all the 
noma patients smiling together and really enjoying themselves getting stuck in the moment. I passed my guitar around the circle and each patient had a go at playing it, laughing and giggling as they made their attempt. As we sang and enjoyed the music, the sun set on our priceless day.
Interestingly, I found out that Dawit in Ethiopian corresponds to Dawoud in Arabic, which is David in English. I just knew there was a connection with our friend Dawit...
Marwan
Patients admitted and medically & dentally fit- check.
Presentation finished and copies printed- check.
It was the day everyone had been waiting for. The day the patients would find out their fate. Some would be told they were going to die and that nothing could be done for them. Others told they were going to get a new face. It was a day that everyone would remember for different reasons and from varying perspectives.
Dawit’s dirt-stained white Toyota Landcruiser rolled up the driveway on yet another glorious sunny day in Menagasha. The 4x4 car was met by a similar response to any vehicle arriving at the Cheshire- swarmed by tens of patients, peering into the dusty windows to see who or what lies behind the glass.
Out stepped three world-renowned European surgeons; Dominique, Brigitte, and Larry. One was the first to perform weightless surgery in space, the other with over 60 publications to her name and the third with his own private plastic surgery business in the UK, on his third visit to Ethiopia with Facing Africa. All different personalities in their own right, they were united by a lovingness to offer all that they can to these misfortunate people. The surgeons were accompanied by two Anaesthesiologists; Bill and Patrick, and two project managers/ theatre nurses; 
Anthea and Mick. As soon as the surgeons stepped foot onto the Cheshire soil, making their way to the guest house where lunch was prepared, they got cracking and began pushing and prodding at the patients faces, discussing what kind of operation they might need to perform together and how.After lunch, we started our powerpoint case-based presentation with each patient coming in the room, introduced and examined by the team. After a discussion (some lasting 1 minute, others 45!), a decision was made whether to operate or not. The team was limited due to equipment, time and relevant expertise. Unfortunately one of the surgeons who deals with tumours had cancelled at the last minute, meaning that these types of cases were automatically excluded.
It was a long day and by the end of it we were all exhausted. The surgical team all headed off back to their hotel in Addis whilst we stayed at the Cheshire, ready to start operating after the weekend.On Monday we got cracking and started operating- first up, our little princess; Mistikina- for eight dental extractions to be done by Dr Hiba. The patient was to have a short burst anaesthetic, so Hiba only had ten to fifteen minutes to do them all. As it was the first patient, the operating theatre was packed full of all the surgeons, anaesthetists and staff with all eyes on Hiba. Naturally, I scrubbed up to assist in her monumentous task and
together we prepared ourselves for Hiba’s toughest challenge yet. Bill, the anaesthetist, injected the magical white potion into Mistikina’s veins and her eyes began to glaze over. After a few seconds, she was out cold. “Get going, you haven’t got long”, Bill said. Like a poet in motion, Hiba began preparing the mouth with her dental instruments then with one flick of the wrist, out popped the teeth, one by one. After they were all out, some required stitching up and as Hiba struggled on the final stitches, Bill reminded us that we didn’t have long and the anaesthetic would rapidly be wearing off. I gave Hiba a hand and put in the last remaining stitches but as I started the final one there was a hand movement from Mistikina, followed by another. She was waking up, fast. With the sweat building up on my brow, I put in the final stitch and the job was done. During the daily surgical schedule, two teams of surgeons were operating on patients at the same time in two different theatres, so Hiba and I would spread ourselves in between them and try to learn as much as possible by watching, listening, practicing and assisting. I even managed to intubate two patients.After operating, we would head out to dinner with the surgical team. It was a real honour to be in company of so many diverse and interesting people, each with their own unique stories and achievements. We would talk about each others stories and how we came to be out in Africa doing what we were doing.
The surgical team were interested in our own particular story and why we have decided to take a year out of work in the UK to come and work in Africa. I think the fact that we’re Muslim also adds to people’s curiosity as perhaps they wouldn’t normally come across Muslims being involved in such matters and experiences. I therefore feel it more important that Hiba and I continue to work hard, travel and be open to new ideas and concepts as these experiences contain a knowledge hidden like pearls in the ocean, requiring more effort than just picking up a book and reading.Having had their surgery and in a stable state, the patients would return to the Cheshire home for post-operative care and attention. My daily routine would start with a ward round at 08:30 which would mainly comprise of wound inspection (for infection and healing), pain relief and nutritional issues. This would be followed by wound care and removal of stitches when the time was right.
After all this was done for each patient (roughly 38), I would have time to relax and enjoy the clear blue skies, strong sun and fresh breeze. I managed to come across an old acoustic guitar that I re-strung and tuned, and I would sit on the freshly cut grass and play songs for the children. At first, they were shy and I played alone, but soon they became interested and one by one they sat down and listened to my tunes. After a short while, a small crowd of some twenty or so patients sat round in a little huddle, listening intently to the notes my hands strummed away. The mother of one of the patients, a woman in her forties, stood up and started singing an Ethiopian version of Hallelujah. She closed her eyes, clutched her chest with both hands, looked up to the heavens and began to sing and dance. She was followed by one of the noma patients, and everyone got involved and began to clap their hands together to the beat. It was great to see all the 
noma patients smiling together and really enjoying themselves getting stuck in the moment. I passed my guitar around the circle and each patient had a go at playing it, laughing and giggling as they made their attempt. As we sang and enjoyed the music, the sun set on our priceless day.Interestingly, I found out that Dawit in Ethiopian corresponds to Dawoud in Arabic, which is David in English. I just knew there was a connection with our friend Dawit...
Marwan
salam,
ReplyDeletei personally think you should have used those 45mins to operate on more patients, nah just kidding im sure theres alot discuss in those difficult decision making situations.
Again, sounds great to hear how things are going and yet again another great merit to doing the charity work out there, which is the new prestigious people you meet, good to find new contacts and work alongside them, aswell as exposure for them to see what islam is really about; which is what you guys are showing.
KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK
Mashala, al-hamdulilah, Inshala
Aimen! mashallah, alhamdulillah, inshala!
ReplyDelete