A Great Prognosis

Sometimes, it can take a while to get any sign that your work has meaning.

Trust me, I think about that a lot during my sojourns on the African continent...say, when I'm huddled under a mosquito net battling hot flashes and mutant insects, or when I'm being harrassed in a hotel bar because security guards think I'm a 'ho, or when I'm feeling kinda punk and realize that I'm not even sure if there's an emergency phone number I could call if I needed to be rushed to a hospital.

In other words, there are many times when I'm extremely aware that my middle name ain't Teresa, and I ain't nobody's mother, and that this kind of work ain't no cakewalk.

For example, looking back over this past week, I've visited two Nairobi hospitals, trying to figure out if I have malaria or not. Both facilities, Nairobi Hospital and The Aga Khan Hospital, are private, which means about 90 percent of Kenyans can't afford services there. I know it sounds really "Ugly American" of me, but while at both hospitals, I'm surprised by how surprised I was. It felt like being back home...the cleanliness, professional service, and modern facilities all reminded me of visits to my HMO clinic back in DC, or the two times I've gone to an emergency room there.

Remembering my one trip to a Gulu hospital last year...for another malaria test...I shuddered imagining what I would have done if I'd had to actually check in. At the time, I blogged about that visit, describing it as less scary than I'd expected. There were no puddles of infected blood, or discarded diseased limbs littering the hallways. But I'm positive that, if I'd had to be admitted, the lack of resources, equipment, medicine and staff would have made for a harrowing stay.

Thankfully, just like last year, I've learned I DON'T have malaria. That means I won't need a hospital stay or any kind of significant medical care for now. But for that 90 percent of Kenyans who can't afford a private hospital, seeking care during major illness means frustration, delay, squalid conditions, inferior care....and that's not just my opinion. A few weeks ago, members of the Kenyan Parliament released a report condemning the terrible conditions at most of the country's public health facilties.

Well, because I'm in Kenya to mentor journalists covering health issues, I saw a perfect opportunity to delve further. I suggested that reporters be sent to hospitals across the country to report on conditions there. Then, I worked with them to produce feature stories about those experiences. The result was a package that ran this past Monday, entitled "Shame of the Public Health Service."

Two days after the stories were published, Kenyan officials announced they'd spend the equivalent of 8 million dollars over the next year, to address problems like lack of staff, poor infrastructure, outdated equipment, overcrowding, etc.

I gotta admit, it's a terrific feeling to think my idea might result in better medical care for Kenyans. And if I feel this way, imagine how the reporters who wrote these stories feel. I do know that several of them have already lined up story ideas they want my help with.

So, I guess my key to good mental hygiene is to keep trying for great experiences like this during my year in Nairobi. I mean, if I'm gonna have to endure constant menopausal panic, greedy, potentially plague-bearing mosquitoes, and lack of access to pastrami and swiss on rye, there's gotta be something in it for me, am I right??