Sitting outside in the cool breeze, watching the armada of squid boats lining up in preparation for an evening of fishing, is nothing if not sublime when sipping a soda and enjoying the shore of Cambodia from aboard a converted oil tanker now hospital ship. The helicopters and boats ferry goods and people to and from the ship. The mountains of Vietnam gave way to Cambodia's rows of softly rolling hills. The water seems rougher but the weather, while still over 100 degrees, seems milder. The mood, after our rest asea, is elevated.
We spend 12 days in each country then sail for 2 days to the next. After I disembark in Singapore the ship will continue to Timor-Leste then Micronesia. Security forces are engaged to ensure the safety of the mission and these conscientious young people stand watch on the ship, circle us on smaller boats in the water, and protect us during land sojourns.
My assignment here is to work 13 hours each night for 8 nights before I switch to days and an opportunity to go ashore to teach. I remain in a medical-surgical (non-emergency) adult unit. The Cambodian patients seem a little taller than the Vietnamese and while both sleep in the clothing they wear during the day, the Vietnamese women dressed in pants with tunics and the Cambodians wear silk pajamas. The latter seem to grow their hair longer and wear it bound up in pony-tails (as opposed to chignons). Unlike the Vietnamese, it seems there are more issues explaining the use of running water. The patients seem particularly apprehensive to use showers. Malnutrition seems equally prevalent in both patient populations but TB and AIDS appear in higher rates in Cambodia.
The first night I had Cambodian patients in my ward they seemed wary of being on a ship so I returned to my room and hauled out the sack of party favors I brought with me. I passed out the gifts and my ward filled with patients proudly sat cross-legged on their cots, earnestly blowing large, yellow, Sponge Bob Square Pants kazus.
I continue to instruct patients in the use of showers, water fountains, and toilets. When a patient asked me (via an interpreter) for a drink and I invited her to the water fountain, she cupped her hands under the water and drank as if from a well or a river. A male patient of mine was unable to comply with my instructions to use the shower, so great was his trepidation at maneuvering the simple shower apparatus. He was polite but apologetic and the interpreter had infinite patience in his attempts to help.
Our medical sites triage (prioritize) almost 1,000 people at each stop; many of whom walked miles, and all of whom wait in over 100-degree heat, to be seen. Last night a young enlisted person told me she had to walk away to compose herself after so many hundreds of people begged her to see their children; her appreciation for things such as free vaccinations for children grew enormously.
This evening our ward interpreter told us he wanted to become a patient. The charge nurse referred him to the sick bay and our interpreter is now our patient (diagnosis "wrist pain"). He was not begrudged a clean bed and a hot meal. We find that almost all of our patient escorts become patients themselves before the actual patient they escorted is ready to leave.
Last night I cared for patients with breast cancer, nasal polyps, post reconstruction surgery, exploratory procedures, and gallstones. There are male and female patients in the open ward, which looks like a giant dorm room. I broke out the stickers and everyone got either a little boy or a little girl sticker, with an extra one to take home, after which patients put their hands together before their faces (an action called a "Y") and said, "aw koon" (thank you).
It's now nearly 8 a.m. and I've been up working all night but I need to do laundry before going to sleep. Project SMILE (repairing cleft palates in children) is now aboard and the USNS Mercy's populations has increased to about 1,200 people (rendering internet access tenuous). If I am unable to access the internet again during this trip I will add something after docking in Singapore in just over 2 weeks.
Thank you again for joining me during my time aboard the USNS Mercy as a part of Project HOPE.
