an ode to my colon

Well,
Another day, sitting here with the cat, thinking about all the things I should do, but sort of avoiding them. Drinking my coffee, needs more sugar, but trying to cut back. Have to go to work in 1 hour, 45 minutes, nope, not counting.
So, the past few days a new experience for me. I am sure many of you have had the experience, and if you haven't I hope you never have too. About 12 years ago or so, my sister had a tumour removed from her colon. She was 29, pretty rare thing for a woman so young. This year, I am turning thirty, and so thought, hey, why not be proactive, and get screened, just to be on the safe side. To screen you for colon cancer, they have to stick a camera on the end of a flexible rod up into your colon via your bum-hole, and have a little look-see. Yes, I said it. Ick. Ick and ouch rather. So, I took two days off work, spent day one eating no food, and drinking lots of liquids as well as drinking this solution which is a purgative and cleans you right out. I spent the day doing a little laundry, went and did some grocery shopping, but for the most part, laid on the couch and napped, and watched mindless television, and running to use the bathroom every so often. In the evening, between 7 and 10 it was about every 15 minutes. Nice.
Day two, spent the morning trying not to think about how my stomach felt like it was eating itself because it was so hungry, and not look at the dark chocolate bunny sitting on the counter. My husband came and picked me up, and took me to the hospital for the "procedure" at 12:30. For colonoscopes you check in at Emergency, and there you sit with all this other people with unknown ailments and injuries until being called into Ambulatory care. It is behind door #2. I kid you not. I sorta felt like I was on a game show. Through the door, a room full of beds with people lying on them, with curtains around them, and then a whole wack of nurses, cleaning people, and well, I am really not sure who all the people were. We are led to my bed with its own curtain where there is a pretty white and blue number with the ties in the back I get to wear. The nurse sits me down, explains the procedure, answers questions and asks me all sorts of probing questions, like what did you eat and drink last and at what time, do you use street drugs, and who is this man, and what is his name....Uh,no, and um, my husband....anyhoo. I don't want to bore you with the details. Anyhow, I go use the loo, then back to my little cubicle to disrobe and put on my hospital gown. There are only a few places where it is acceptable to strip down to your birthday suit in a room full of people. The curtain didn't quite reach all around, so my husband blocked the gap with his body while I changed. When I was done all I had on was my socks and hospital gown, which by the way is very hard to tie when the ties are at the back. Feeling very naked. All my belongings are in a plastic box which is placed under my bed. The nurse couldn't get it to fit, so I hope down to help. Apparently my exposed my bum in the process as my husband tells me, laughingly. Oops. Next, I get wrapped in warm blankets and a IV needle stuck in the vein in my hand. Ow. I look over just in time to see dark crimson blood seeping out the top...hey, thats my blood....thankfully, I don't faint. My husband sits with me and makes me laugh while I lie there under my warm blanket. While lying, my hand hurts so I don't feel like reading a magazine, so I just watch the people go by, because now my curtain is wide open. Across from me is a nurses station. They have a coffee pot going, and some chocolate cake one of them is eating. A little weird to be lying in my jammies, watching some stranger who probably just gave someone a needle or something to be eating chocolate cake. A little while later, some paramedics walk by with a lady on a stretcher. Then, I look back to the nurses station, and there is a dog in there now. I am thinking, not sanitary......The nurses and doctors are gathering around to see the cute little pooch. I am thinking, I hope they wash their hands well. A young teenage boy and his mom walk by, he has injured his hand or something. As people walk by, they stare at me, I stare right back, sort of surreal, having people staring at you while you lie in bed. No privacy in hospitals. Finally its my turn, I ask to use the loo again. I have the IV stand with me this time, a little harder to manuver into the washroom, going pee, washing, all with one hand. I am back out, and my husband says goodbye....we kiss and the nurses say...ewww they're kissing. I hop back on my rolling bed. Into the room with a TV screen, a doctor, and like 3 more nurses. Man, they are everywhere. They hook me up to blood pressure monitor, heart rate monitor, and a few other things, not sure what. I think I am allergic to the adhesive though, becuase i still have red marks on my chest from the electrodes. The doctor comes in, has a chart. Didn't I do some work on your nose. I say no, never had work done on my nose. Never seen you before in my life. He keeps looking at the chart....you're not 59 either are you....Um, no....I'm not. Yeah, he had the wrong chart. I tell him my name, he gets the right chart. Now for the fun. He asks more questions. Mentions some person recently who was 39, and died of colon cancer...hm, thanks very reassuring I think.
He pushes two needles full of sedative into my IV. I start feeling all whooozy.....I am still awake though. Flip on your side they tell me.....well, next thing you know I am looking at my insides on the TV. Not an every day occurrence. I am glad I am still awake, but unfortunately, it hurts quite a bit when they are turning the corners with the camera inside your colon. I yell, owww. Not sure how loud, as I am pretty drugged up. Well, next thing I know, it is all over, my colon is clean, and looking healthy, and they roll me out back into my little curtained area. The nurse brings me crackers and a slice of cheese and some juice. I am pretty happy to be eating something again. I think it was 38 hours with no food.
The nurse phones my husband to tell him I am ready to be picked up. He has barely made it to Starbucks to get his coffee, and he is back to the hospital to get me. I feel good. I think it is mostly relief that it is all over, and I am a happy owner of a healthy colon. Today is the opening of the new gigantic Wal-Mart in town.....so we drive over to check it out....still feeling a bit lightheaded, lightheaded and happy.

For those who have never had a colonoscopy, I hope you never have to. For those of you who may be looking forward to one (or dreading one) it really isn't that bad....and is over before you know it.

First Night Apart, and my New Job

Now, I know, it has been a long time, over a year I believe. I have been busy, dating, getting engaged, and then marrying the love of my life. We have now been married for 5 months, and let me see, 19 days. Just a sneeze compared to some people, but I am wondering how the time has gone by so fast. Tonight will be the first time apart since being married. I know, it will be strange and lonely. At least I have the cat to keep me company. I am so glad this separation is a rare occasion.
With getting married, there are a lot of new things. A new house, and new bed, a new neighborhood with new neighbors. New dishes, a new yard with my very own weeds to rip out. Having my own kitchen, which is mine to conquer and clean. Also, a new job.

NOTE: If you have a weak stomach, I would suggest NOT reading on....

Its hard starting a new job, especially after being at my last one for over six years. There is a sense of comfort and belonging after being somewhere for that long. You understand the flow and routine of your coworkers. There is history of funny, sad and unpleasant experiences to recall. There are customers which you have served time and time again, some which are nice, some which are grumpy and some which brighten your day every time you see them. When things are slow in the pharmacy, sometimes we talk saying, "remember the time" and we laugh, or shudder, depending on the memory.
This week at the new pharmacy has been a momentous one for me. I feel like there has been a break through. I began the job, feeling like an outsider. Not knowing my place, or feeling at ease in my new surroundings, a bit like a fish out of water. I kept telling myself, it takes time, the first two weeks are the hardest. And it is true, over time, I began to feel more and more at home. But this week, well, it will remain in my memory, for better or for worse. Tuesday morning, I am behind the counter when I hear a sort of splatting sound, then crying of a small child. I walk out of the dispensary to discover a mother with her little girl, who has thrown up blueberries, all over herself, her doll and the floor. She is wailing, because her doll is now covered in blue puke. I go, grab paper towel and ask someone to page for a wet clean up. Together we clean up the area, That little girl must have eaten a lot of blueberries. Other customers walk around. I have cleaned up worse, thankfully it is 90% partially digested blueberries.
Saturday. serving a man in a motorized cart. He has a small dog with him, which has jumped off the cart and the man is trying to get him back on. I hear someone say something, like "poo". I come around the counter, and there, right on the carpet in front of the pharmacy is a fair size dark brown poo. Up on the mans cart, there is a second pile. The man gets out a baggy, but can't reach it from his position on his cart. I go and get the paper towel once more. I get a big hand full of papertowel, and pick of the offending pile, and then the second, and place it in the baggy. The smell, by this time has reached my nose and is vile. I have to race back into the pharmacy to prevent myself from loosing my breakfast. I ask, do we have any lysol, or cleaner we can clean the carpet with?? What are the chances, of cleaning dog poo and child puke all in one week, in a grocery store pharmacy?? Well, despite the gross factor, cleaning poo and puke, really make a person feel at home. Perhaps its the length of time I have been there that has been the major contributing factor, but I like to think that the poo and puke had a part. Today as I am at home on a day off, I, for the first time since being at the new pharmacy thought, I am going to kinda miss being at the pharmacy, and visiting with my coworkers. I think it is a good sign.
New things can be scary and difficult to adjust to, but time, and memorable incidents make it all better.

Canada and Christmas

December 20, 2006

So close to Christmas. I am now home. Africa, sun, sand, humidity, now just a dream. I am in the cold, wet Northwest. I came home early, and so suprised family and friends. It was a very hard secret to keep, but so worth the looks of shock and suprise on people I love faces. The journey home seems to me much like a marathon, with our travel time at 39 hours from door to door. Tomorrow I return to work, and thus begins my reality at home. I have been a bit in a dream world these past few weeks, and wonder, who’s life is this that I am living. Worlds here and in Liberia are so different, it is sometimes hard to reconcile them.
Hard to believe Christmas Day will be upon us in just a few short days. Yes, I am not done my Christmas shopping. I find it difficult to focus.....to find that perfect gift....I go to the stores and am overwhelmed by the selection of gifts and food. I guess this is my bit of culture shock. I told Heather, its an odd time to come home, because it seems every few days there is a Christmas party or get together, and everyone is so focused on getting their shopping done. I feel like I have entirely lost my Fall, and came from Summer in Africa directly to Christmas in Canada. Its a bit of a jump mentally.
I feel a bit sad, about the end of my blog about Africa...I wonder, what is there to write about now. There is never an end to things to write about, the question is, who really has the time to read it all. Do people really want to read about life in the slow lane, on Vancouver Island, the life of Rebecca, Pharmacy Technician extrodinaire (yes, that is me being silly, feel free to laugh)
Tomorrow family will arrive, and it will be busy, we will finally put up the tree, and perhaps it will dawn on me..yes it is Christmas.

Merry Christmas to you all as we celebrate the birth of the King, Jesus Christ, my saviour and friend.

Bears Bags and Children

Well. Its been, what...ten whole days. Crazy. Time is ticking along quite steadily and I am begining to think about my return home. When we get home it will be almost Christmas, which will certainly be a shock with the hot weather we have here. The last thing on my mind is Christmas. Here, there are no lights, no stores playing Christmas music, no advertisments on TV, cause, well....no TV. We did celebrate the first Sunday of Advent with waffles and lighting the Hope Candle. But, yep, still seem like summer to me:)
This past Friday Heather and I held a special kids club. We made up some gift bags for all the kids. Compassion International, who helped us fill our container with some used clothes, and hospital beds and other items sent all these knit stuffed bears, inside fabric drawstring bags. We took those, added some crayons, candy, notebook and a colouring book that Heather designed. Tada..gift bag. The bears were very cute, all with different expressions, and outfits. Anyhow, the night before I was making carmel corn for our festive event, and then stuffing bags with the goodies. Our colouring books were taken to the printers, but still we didn’t have them back. Club starts 9 am. Yep, I was a little worried. The sheets for the books arrived at 8:30, so we were frantically (okay, perhaps I was the only frantic person) collating, folding and stapling the books together. Oh, and the printers did the pages on two sizes of paper, some on 8.5 by 11 and some A4. Arg. So we had to trim down the A4 to the right size. Anyhow....I say to Heather, why do I come up with these ideas.....it always happens, crunch time and I am worrying about how it will all turn out, and feeling like nothing will work out. The night before we counted the bags. There were 59 bags. The week previous at club, there were 59 children. I was thinking, if they know it is a special club, there may be way more kids....so I start worrying. Heather tells me, don’t worry, God will have it all figured out. I stlil worry. So 59 bags. I had extra candy and crayons, so we took those, and one extra notebook and a few extra colouring books. We arrive, only 15 mintues late. I say Heather, can you count the kids...She counted, I don’t know how many times. Maybe six times. Problem with kids....they move around. She came up with a few different numbers. Finally, she comes to 59. The end comes, they have had their snack, we have taken a group photo (very challenging let me tell you. There were several carmel corn related altercations that broke out) Then we get the kids to sit down. I pray, and Kathleen and the Ngenda children bring out the boxes full of gift bags. I tell them. Stay in your seats, you can look in the bags, but don’t take anything out now, wait till you get home....As we pull out the first few bags...their voices start to chatter excitedly. We go down several rows. By this time some of the kids have looked in the bags to find the teddy bears and other items. The excitement grows. It gets louder and louder... it grows to a virtual roar. They were soooo happy and so excited to get a teddy bear for each one, and a bag. I turn around and one is putting the bag over his shoulders. I look in the front row at the smaller ones, and not surprisingly they have ignored my stern directions, and have their bears out, dancing on the tables. Everyone of those children was so happy and appreciative. Even the older boys, who I was worried would be “too cool” for the bears. The last row. Everyone has a bag, except one boy. I go back, there is one bag left. Wow. Talk about the perfect number. I had prayed to God all morning, please dear God, let there be 59 children or less. And He answered our prayers. Zechariah, one of the older boys, he came forward, and on behalf of all the children said thankyou. I could tell he was very happy, and moved. He kept saying, we have nothing to give to you, but we want to say thank you. I tell them, that is was our joy to give them the gifts, and it made us so happy to see them happy. That is a special memory.
On our way out, there was one boy who couldn’t be at school, because he was sick. I gave him the extra notebook and candy and crayons and colouring book. Unfortunately we had no bear and bag for him. There are several other children hanging around, that aren’t part of our group, so I give them all the rest of the extra candy and colouring books. I am reminded, there are so many children here. So many needs. The children who were walking by, probably about 10 years old were working, carring loads on their head to sell at market. They don’t go to school. So many needs. I am happy and sad all at the same time.

Menus and Spellcheck

Since Heather has been here, for 5 weeks now, oh, and three, no four days she says (not that she is counting or anything) we have been out twice to a restaurant to have a special treat. The first was when we went down to immigration to get her passport stamped. Kathleen took us. Its funny (well to me anyhow) we go to immigration, and the officer looks at her passport and says, oh you have just arrived. The date of entry was 10-11-06, and so he thought it was November 10th, 2006, when really it was October 11, 2006. In which case, she would have just entered the country that very day. We explained, no, she had been in the country one month. She is now good to stay until January 11th. So, we carry on to do a little shopping, and then to lunch, at a restaurant, the Beirut, for some Lebanese food (big Lebanese population here). Heather puruses the menu, she is looking at hamburgers, she hasn’t had one in over a month. She gets to one, and it lists all the condiments, and finishes, “on at toasted bum”. We all had a really good laugh about that. I wonder if they sell alot of toasted bum. Anyhow. She was going to take a photo, but the waiter came and took the menus before she could. Today, we went for pizza at the Mona LIza. We ordered the four cheese pizza. The first ingredient listed was pecoroni. Of course, we think, another unfortunate typo, it should be pepperoni and so, we enjoy a good laugh. We get the pizza, no pepperoni. Heather and I discuss it, should we say anything, Heather says, perhaps its a type of cheese. I say, there is no way it is a type of cheese. It doesn’t sound like a cheese name. When the waiter returns, I ask, he grabs a menu, and we look, he says, yes, there should be pepperoni. One of the manager comes out, and tells us, that pecoroni, is a type of cheese. OOps. Bec was wrong. Yes. I admit, it happens from time to time. Well, it did provide us with a good laugh.
In other totally unrelated news, this next week we will spend painting black boards that we will be donating to some local schools. I will keep you updated.
OH, and I went to the World Cheese Index. The cheese is really called Pecorino, and is an Italian cheese made from sheeps milk with 25 - 35% Milk Fat. Good to know.

Sunny November

November 9, 2006

Thursday night. We forgot to drink our papaya leaf tea last night. Oops. Instead of taking pills for malaria prophylaxis the fam and I drink papaya leaf tea twice a week. Kathleen dries the leaf, then pounds it in a mortar into a powder. It is very bitter, but we add lots of sugar. It sure beats taking a pill. So far, I have not gotten malaria, so, so far so good. I told Kathleen we should market it in Canada. Perhaps it is good for some other disease:)
This evening, before dinner Heather and I took the kids to the beach for a nice dip in the ocean. We stayed almost long enough to watch the sun set. Me be the super cautious aunty wanted to be sure we got home before dark. The water was great, the ocean is always warm here, and the waves weren’t too big, so we could swim around quite well. Then the children attempted to dam the lagoon, unfortunately for them the water was washing away the sand as fast as they could pile it up. I guess it never hurts to try though.
Tomorrow morning we will have kids club. A few weeks ago I got Heather to teach every one how to make paper airplanes. There are 50 children regularly now. It was chaos. Fun, but chaos. It is shocking to me, that children have to be, number one, taught to make a paper airplane, and number two, have difficulty folding a piece of paper in a straight line, and number three, follow fairly basic instructions, like fold the left corner into the middle. It is really hard to imagine, but these kids don’t have the opportunities to do things like make paper airplanes, or use sissors, or colour, and paint. For me it is such a small thing, to go up there, and spend a few hours on my Friday, but I do hope, that they don’t just remember the crazy white lady, singing silly songs, or the colouring, but that they can see love and care of our Heavenly Father through me. Last week there was one small boy, must not be older than 2 years old. “Teacher, Teacher,” he calls me, “I want a pencil”. He sees all the other kids have gotten pencils, now he wants one. This tiny child, in amongs the 5 year olds, and 8 and 10 year olds. Every time I go, I am surprised. At how much fun I have, at how much fun they have, and how, we never have enough time for them to colour.
Last week I had a couple firsts. Got pulled over by the police, for a registration check. That was fine, till the man looks in then tells me it is against the law to drive in flip flops. Oops. How was I to know?? I claimed complete ignorance. He told me, I am going to have to charge you. I say, really?? He tells me I have to go the the station, I tell him I have 3 other children at home who I need to go back to. We were at a bit of an impass when my nephew Josh came to my rescue. He says. She’s sorry, she won’t do it again. He let me go. I tell Josh. “Boy I am glad you came and not Heather, can you imagine how it would have gone if there had been two of us foreigners in the vehical?” Okay, I actually said white women. We like to think colour doesn’t make a difference, but it does. It generally makes the price go up.
I also watched James gut a chicken for the first time. I am pretty sure I could do it in a pinch. I’m ready for survivor:) Well I hope everyone is enjoying November thus far. Here, it is hot, and humid, nothing like November that I know.

Sunny November

November 9, 2006

Thursday night. We forgot to drink our papaya leaf tea last night. Oops. Instead of taking pills for malaria prophylaxis the fam and I drink papaya leaf tea twice a week. Kathleen dries the leaf, then pounds it in a mortar into a powder. It is very bitter, but we add lots of sugar. It sure beats taking a pill. So far, I have not gotten malaria, so, so far so good. I told Kathleen we should market it in Canada. Perhaps it is good for some other disease:)
This evening, before dinner Heather and I took the kids to the beach for a nice dip in the ocean. We stayed almost long enough to watch the sun set. Me be the super cautious aunty wanted to be sure we got home before dark. The water was great, the ocean is always warm here, and the waves weren’t too big, so we could swim around quite well. Then the children attempted to dam the lagoon, unfortunately for them the water was washing away the sand as fast as they could pile it up. I guess it never hurts to try though.
Tomorrow morning we will have kids club. A few weeks ago I got Heather to teach every one how to make paper airplanes. There are 50 children regularly now. It was chaos. Fun, but chaos. It is shocking to me, that children have to be, number one, taught to make a paper airplane, and number two, have difficulty folding a piece of paper in a straight line, and number three, follow fairly basic instructions, like fold the left corner into the middle. It is really hard to imagine, but these kids don’t have the opportunities to do things like make paper airplanes, or use sissors, or colour, and paint. For me it is such a small thing, to go up there, and spend a few hours on my Friday, but I do hope, that they don’t just remember the crazy white lady, singing silly songs, or the colouring, but that they can see love and care of our Heavenly Father through me. Last week there was one small boy, must not be older than 2 years old. “Teacher, Teacher,” he calls me, “I want a pencil”. He sees all the other kids have gotten pencils, now he wants one. This tiny child, in amongs the 5 year olds, and 8 and 10 year olds. Every time I go, I am surprised. At how much fun I have, at how much fun they have, and how, we never have enough time for them to colour.
Last week I had a couple firsts. Got pulled over by the police, for a registration check. That was fine, till the man looks in then tells me it is against the law to drive in flip flops. Oops. How was I to know?? I claimed complete ignorance. He told me, I am going to have to charge you. I say, really?? He tells me I have to go the the station, I tell him I have 3 other children at home who I need to go back to. We were at a bit of an impass when my nephew Josh came to my rescue. He says. She’s sorry, she won’t do it again. He let me go. I tell Josh. “Boy I am glad you came and not Heather, can you imagine how it would have gone if there had been two of us foreigners in the vehical?” Okay, I actually said white women. We like to think colour doesn’t make a difference, but it does. It generally makes the price go up.
I also watched James gut a chicken for the first time. I am pretty sure I could do it in a pinch. I’m ready for survivor:) Well I hope everyone is enjoying November thus far. Here, it is hot, and humid, nothing like November that I know.

Chicken Dinner

Its Tuesday. Monday seems a lifetime ago. Time sometimes seems to stand still. This past weekend we all made a trip up to Gbarnga in Bong County. James claims it is a 3 hour drive. I believe it is closer to 4. It was a three hour drive when the road had a regular surface, and not pockmarked with potholes and ditches. By the time we were out of the city on Friday night, it was already dark, which always makes driving even more of a challenge, as its harder to see the potholes coming. There was 8 of us, so we had to take two vehicals, we had the girls in the Jeep and the boys in the car. It was great to have leg room, and not having someone sitting on my lap like last time. On our way through Red Light, a very muddy, congested market area we met up with two large UN tanks. Of course my camera batteries died, so they were gone before I could take a picture. Its not often you get stuck in traffic next to a tank. We made it into Gbarnga at 10:30pm, had some rice and soup for dinner, and headed for bed. Heather and I lucked out with a room all to ourselves. I slept great, no kicking, no teeth grinding. The next morning we had pancakes for breakfast at the Catholic compound where we stayed, and Heather and I learned the art of sucking oranges. Yes, that is right, sucking oranges. Its the freshest orange juice you will ever have. You start with an orange, with the outer rind peeled off, but still with the white pithy part on, then you bite off the bottom, or is it the top.....we had a very long debate which end was which. Then you squeeze the life out of the poor little orange, and suck all the juice out. Its a very satisfying experience. Heather claims this is how she will eat oranged from now on.
After breaky, we got ready, and Josh, James, Heather and I headed for the village of Pilliloweh (no idea how to spell that). First we bought some candy to give to the kids there and some water, then we were off. first we drive on a back road to the village of Dematah where we parked, then we walked into the village. Its a nice 30 minute stroll through the trees and grass. On the way we learned that a man had been bitten by a snake that morning and died. I suddenly became a bit more aware of my feet and the surrounding grass along the path. When we arrived at the village, we learn that the snake was caught in his trap, and assuming it was dead, the man picked it up and it bit him on the arm. By the time he returned back to his village, it was too late, and the venom had done its work. People are not taught how to properly treat snake bites or other problems, but instead, turn to “country medicine”.
Our time in the village was spent mostly eating. They fed us bananas, and fresh roasted corn, sugar cane and something called country bread. It is new rice that is roasted and pounted into a powder. I walked around, took photos, talked to people. James twin sister killed us a chicken and made us rice and soup. They don’t use cutting boards. Try to imagine cutting up a chicken with no cutting board. I had never thought about it before, but it requires different techniques. James worked some magic, and managed to get them to cook him a second chicken. It was his uncles rooster, a pretty white one that found himself in the pot. Earlier, the rooster has been walking into the house where we were sitting, and Josh told it that if it kept coming in the house, he would be dinner. His prediction became true.
A boy in the village found a baby rat....so Honey, James niece was walking around with it on her head. I asked her what she was going to do with it....she said, play with it. Not alot to do in the village. Definately a different way of life. On a happy note, I believe Heathers fear of chickens is lessening.
Sunday morning we went to a local baptist church. The sermon was in English and Kpelle, the local dialect. It was on how to be a good baptist. Not being a baptist, I admit to drifting in and out...I know, what a thing to admit to.
After church, we had lunch back at the compound and headed for home. I got to drive as Kathleen was sick. We made it home in one piece I am happy to say, and didn’t get stopped by any immigration. Thank you God.