This weekend, I did my first two shifts as a charge nurse. Fortunately for me, things were relatively slow. I am wholeheartedly appreciative for a weekend void of social drama or medical crises – because anything less might have made me pack my bags and head home. The one minor “situation” in B ward involved a little guy who has now become my most memorable patient of Togo 2010 – thus far.
Nobody is completely sure what Bobo’s deal was. It may be the fact that his name is Bobo. It may be that Bobo is innately a drama queen. Or possibly, as Ali has proposed, it may be that Bobo is mildly autistic (Given my extensive knowledge of autism - the result of an entire year of ever purposeful graduate studies – I was inclined to concur). Regardless of the reason, Bobo spent last week less than impressed with his bilateral casts. For somewhere between 3 – 243 days (the timeline is blurry….I had a stressful weekend), Bobo moaned. In Ewe.
Most of the time, it sounded something like “why-eeeeeee……..why-eeeeeee……….why-eeeeeee……”. Every once in a while, he would change things up and cry “owwwwwww………..owwwwwww………..owwwwwww”, just for variety’s sake, from what I could tell. Extensive efforts on our part to medicate, entertain, and distract the tormented child were essentially futile. I even went in on a couple of my nights off, after shifts to sit with him and play, but nothing seemed to touch this kid.
Finally, after quite a bit of discussion, the decision was made that regardless of whether or not Bobo was just a kid being a kid and expressing his lack of appreciation for his two new plaster companions, the risk that something legitimate was wrong inside them warranted a cast change under general anesthetic.
And on Monday afternoon, the recovery room brought us back this:
The debate still stands about what truly made the difference. Maybe he was bored of his old casts. Maybe when the entire nursing staff prays every morning, evening, and night for “Bobo to have peace”, God listens. Or maybe when Clementine (our Togolese counselor) threatened him in the recovery room that “if you don’t stop crying, you will never get to go home”, he finally listened.
Either way, I witnessed a miracle.
This weekend, I did my first two shifts as a charge nurse. Fortunately for me, things were relatively slow. I am wholeheartedly appreciative for a weekend void of social drama or medical crises – because anything less might have made me pack my bags and head home. The one minor “situation” in B ward involved a little guy who has now become my most memorable patient of Togo 2010 – thus far.
Nobody is completely sure what Bobo’s deal was. It may be the fact that his name is Bobo. It may be that Bobo is innately a drama queen. Or possibly, as Ali has proposed, it may be that Bobo is mildly autistic (Given my extensive knowledge of autism - the result of an entire year of ever purposeful graduate studies – I was inclined to concur). Regardless of the reason, Bobo spent last week less than impressed with his bilateral casts. For somewhere between 3 – 243 days (the timeline is blurry….I had a stressful weekend), Bobo moaned. In Ewe.
Most of the time, it sounded something like “why-eeeeeee……..why-eeeeeee……….why-eeeeeee……”. Every once in a while, he would change things up and cry “owwwwwww………..owwwwwww………..owwwwwww”, just for variety’s sake, from what I could tell. Extensive efforts on our part to medicate, entertain, and distract the tormented child were essentially futile. I even went in on a couple of my nights off, after shifts to sit with him and play, but nothing seemed to touch this kid.
Finally, after quite a bit of discussion, the decision was made that regardless of whether or not Bobo was just a kid being a kid and expressing his lack of appreciation for his two new plaster companions, the risk that something legitimate was wrong inside them warranted a cast change under general anesthetic.
And on Monday afternoon, the recovery room brought us back this:
The debate still stands about what truly made the difference. Maybe he was bored of his old casts. Maybe when the entire nursing staff prays every morning, evening, and night for “Bobo to have peace”, God listens. Or maybe when Clementine (our Togolese counselor) threatened him in the recovery room that “if you don’t stop crying, you will never get to go home”, he finally listened.
Either way, I witnessed a miracle.