Reading, Writing, and Gypsies

I have always loved the written word. As soon as I realized that words transmitted stories I have been enthralled. As I child my parents read to me religiously and although I struggled to learn to read with my hearing loss, I was determined. I remember the summer I really learned to read, i read everything I could get my hands on from the 1982 manual of Orthopedic surgery to every children’s book in the house and ton from the library. Although I loved history and historical fiction and science and science fiction the MOST. I read everything including fairy and folk tales. I remember reading a book of Russian fairy tales and I remember reading another book that talked about gypsies. Gypsies were either thieves or a mysterious people who came and hosted a fair of sorts, told fortunes, played music and danced. It was not till I was a sophomore in college that I learned that gypsies were not just in fairy tales, there were a real people group. A people group who had long been oppressed and enslaved by half of Europe.

I have interacted with gypsy families during both my trips to Romania. I have worked with disabled gypsies and cared for sick gypsies. I have been a guest in a gypsy household on several occasions. But I have never set in the mist of a traditional gypsy encampment until today. We got off the bus and began to search for a gypsy family that my contact had been working with for several months. We watched two gypsy boys get tickets for washing car windows in the mist of the street. We asked them where the individuals we were looking for were encamped. We had no luck. I am not sure if they just didn’t know or if they didn’t want us to know. It was obvious that the cops were coming down hard on the gypsies in the area. Finally about the time we were going to give up, two little gypsy boys appeared who greeted my contact and beckoned us to come. And so we did.

All of the sudden, Emily was nearly knocked over by a whirl of pink and a cry of joy. A 4 yr old gypsy girl jumped into her arms. We met more members of her family and were led by the 4 yr old back to the encampment which was hidden with the city main hospital on one side, a major highway on the other and and housing development on the third and fourth. Hidden amongst the trees were tents, cooking fires, four families and dozen children. We were ushered to a blanket under the wash line and before we could sit down, were surrounded by kids. We played with them, read them half in Romanian, half in English, we held them and sang with them. We took their pictures which they loved and I will post them soon.

They fought over us and wanted to be touching us at all times. Their parents were busy with cooking, washing and such. There were two infants, one who had a skin infection I could not identify but that I fear is not as simple as fleas or lice. One of the boys broke his leg two months ago and just got the cast off, he has sores all over his leg and I worry they will become infected. A 12 yr old and 8 yr old smoked a cigarette while we were there. Its funny…as soon as I adjust to the chaos around me I went into med student mode. Part of me wanted to turn it off but another part of me accepted that this is who I am now.

My contact met this family when they were begging on the subway. Struck by how beautiful the children were, she foraged a friendship with them. All of them from the 4 yr old up to the matriarch who is in her 50s beg, the infants and toddlers help their old siblings beg by being cute. Its the family business. Roma people are the bottom of the totem pole in Romania, although many of them are still trying to preserve their language, culture and lifestyle (transient), even those who try to integrate struggle to get jobs,obtain decent health care, do well in school, etc. The children I played with today lack birth certificates, they just aren’t routinely given to Roma children. As a result they are not able to attend school even if there parents wanted them to. The Roma are not trusted by Romanians and they are truly scum in the eyes of most Romanians. Its a vicious cyclic complex social problem.

The children fit into two groups, the ones who nearly knocked us over before they even knew our name they so wanted affection and contact with the outside world and the ones who took a good 30-40 mins to accept that Emily and I were not going to hurt them or write them a ticket. The kids ran wild after they warmed up, there were no rules, no boundaries and no inhibitions just a desperate hunger for what we had rather it be material, emotional, spiritual, physical touch, etc.

It was overwhelming although for first time Emily and I felt like there is no where else but here that we are supposed be but here. We will go back again soon.

Cases in the morning:
Suture Removal (which I did!!!) on 13 yr. kid we removed the mole on my first day here
Blood in the urine work up (Most likely a cyst on the kidney) on 65 yr old
High Cholesterol/possible Hepatitis follow up

a strange land…

We interrupt this blog about Romania to comment on a happening in the good old US of A. The Creation Museum opened up in KY this week….

I went on the online virtual tour and was kind of fascinated, terrified and confused all at once. I read several articles: BBC, MSNBC, some religious sources and then just sat here for a moment sort of marveling at America. Because only in a America would you open something like the Creation Museum. And only in America could you publish the variety of articles with differing opinions on the Museum. I really didn’t find anything that was remotely neutral on the topic. The articles ranged from estatic to bitter.

Since I spent a good deal of college convincing both of my departments I was not in fact crazy, I am used to the myarid of emotions this debate brings up. I am also used to how little the two sides really understand each other. I also have always been amazed by how vitally important this issue seems to be to both sides. Its the bitterness I worry about though, more than the issue it self. THe division this issue causes is amazing to me. And both sides can dish out the bitterness with equal skill. Because some creationists really do think that evolution is from the devil himself and ruining public education and some evolutionist really do think creationists are uneducated, backward and ruining public education and maybe an election or two. Its a bitter fight.

Everyone is quick to make sweeping statements, everyone is quick to make judgements and nearly no one is quick to listen or quick to realize that while we spend 25 million dollars (and far more on research on both sides) to convince each other that we did or did not come from APES, a lot of other stuff is happening the world. Maybe we should stop trying to figure out where the heck we came from and start working on where we are going (dare I say this is a New Testanment princpal).

because when it comes right down to it and although both sides would call me a hertic for it…you can’t 100%, boil water at X temp, glucose to pyruvate prove one way or the other. Both sides require faith, both sides require some science. And that is my theory of the bitterness, its easy to hate what you don’t understand and its even more easy to hate to someone who reminds you of the weakness of your own deeply held convictions.

glorious, glorious

I am an inpatient person. Its one of my greatest faults. I struggle with it daily. The last week and half of crazy mishaps that have led to me not being able to start the orphanage ministry as quickly as I would have liked have fustrated me. I am like a five year old kid who birthday party has been delayed… I am hungary for this work. In a way I don’t even understand. Emily looks at me with the perplexed glances becuase why she craves shrimp, cable TV, paved interstates and American beaches. I am content with trams, soup, children, the swish of gypsies’ skirts and dusty streets. But I often wonder if I am craving these things for the right reason. I should crave them because I want to be useful, to serve others, to glorify God. Or at least I should feel a depersation of there is so much to be done and so little time. I worry though that I am looking for a high rather than an opprotunity to serve. I think perhaps this has been the purpose of the last week and half teaching me patience and reminding that despite all the excitment of being back here, I am here for a purpose that is not entirely my own. I think part of being patient is letting God carry you and your ideals and your plans. Its not just waiting, its also being led.

Emily and I have always been so different. While I am a global thinker (anti-details) she is a detail freek. She is all about control and rules and being on time. I am all about creatviity, freedom and taking as much time as it takes to really examine an idea or listen to someone or complete a task. I think I expected her to love Romania and love service work the way I do and that was completely foolish of me. Because I knew of course that even if she loved being here it would be for different reasons. But I think seeing our work through her eyes keeps me grounded almost. I never really went through culture shock this time around…I just sort of dove in and swam around a bit. While she is constantly aware that there are things new and different. She reminds me that things are different, she shows me both the good and bad differences that sometimes my been there, seen that, global tolerant mind misses.

…on to the daily happenings…
Today was fun. We babysat for two MKs from 10:30 till 5. Two girls 6, 8 who have a 2 wk yr old sistr who has done nothing but keep her parents up all the time. Us coming, allowed Mom to sleep and Dad to go out and get some errands run and have some ALONE time. We played at the park till it got too hot, had lunch, then watched a movie, then went back to the park and then played some board games. It was a lovely way to spend a Saturday, they were delightful kids and their parents were sooo grateful. We went grocery shopping and then came home, made a really excellent supper and am now winding down.

Last night Cristiana spent the night. She introduced us to the wide world of Romanian junk food and we stayed up till 2AM talking about med/dental school, health care, boys, theology, movies and chocolate. Emily fell asleep long before that but was thrilled at the discovery of nearly American like cheese doodles…. I am so grateful for my relationship with Cristiana she is a good friend and such a wonderful guide to Romanaia. Its funn though, even though she is my dearest and oldest friend here we still have moments where the miles between our homelands are very apparent. Today we were buying metro tickets and she asked me if such things were free for disabled people in America and I told her “No” She was shocked and asked me if I wish they were and I said no I want to be treated like everyone else. She blinked and said of course, I understand but this is not how we think here, forgive me. Her honesty has always amazed me, last night we discussed my SPA (nasty take home/oral exam) and she asked well why didn’t you ask your Dad for help? I said well that would have been cheating… Oh but they would have not have known…whats the big deal? I forget that same corruptuion that haunts the social services system and the government in general reaches down to educational institutions. Academic intergity is American ideal… Because when my nearly mennonite Romanian friend has trouble figuring out what’s cheating and what’s not…we know we have a problem.

Friday morning I saw several patients. I saw a gyspy woman who has been having panic attacks. She nearly had one when the Romanain resident walked in the room. She told him she had no bribe and please, please don’t hurt me. Cali treated her with the utmost respect as he would any patient. But I could tell he was a little hurt by how terrified the woman was. What a sad reflection of the system. The next patient was a 3 yr gyspy kid who parents were similarlly afraid of doctors. The kid ahd what appeared to be bad food poisioning which we treated with fluids.

Friday afternoon, we took the kids from the Kids’ club (for At risk kids) to the ZOO b/c it was Children’s Day in Romania. It was a crazy trip with 10 kids on crowded buses across town at rush hour (ok so planning was poor). Then for some reason that Emily and I have yet to understand, the Romanain chaperones scattered once we got there and the kids sort of ran wild. One kid nearly got bitten by a bird (that they were tempting with a chip) and we nearly lost one at one point. But all and all it was fun and the kids enjoyed themselves. I took the green machine naturally and Alex a little boy who also uses a wheelchair was just in love with me and Emily. He was fasniated by every thing I did, he wanted to wear my gloves, he wanted to know how fast I could go, etc. He was sad I could beat him at races, we explained my arms were longer. I realized of course that I am most likely one of the only disabled adults he has ever known, maybe the only one. Its like growing up as an alien and all of the sudden another alien drops into your life. He seaks no English but we finds ways of communicating. I found out through his Mom’s broken English and the social worker’s broken translation he is 2nd grade at a normal school. So exciting.

Lastly…the mormons…
So when it comes to religious issues with people who I disagree with espeically when I am playing doctor at work…my gut instinct is to AVOID, AVOID, AVOID senisitive topics at all costs. So when an eldery mormon missionary couple show up at the clinic, I have no thought of discussing my spiritual life with them. I don’t want to hear about Joseph Smith or having my own planent. We disuss the medical reasons why they are there (dermatitis, general check up). We discuss our home states (one was from VA) and our favorite Romanaian moments. We even manage to sort of talk about why I have come to Romania twice. I feel accomplished…. Dr. Ober would be so proud… look at me being non-controversial. Then my attending pulls a fast one one me…. We are nearly done with the exam and he goes well now Sister/Elder SoSo why don’t you enlighten these young people (me and the resident). The resident and I shift uncomfortably in our politically correct chairs. (Things like What the heck are you doing is going through my head….are you mad….they will never leave us alone…lets go back to the dermatitis.).
Turns out Sister SoSo has MS and instead of Jospeh Smith for Dummies we get an interesting story about how she had recently fallen and had to be rushed to the hospital by Romanian paramedics. She was grateful that God had taken care of her. The whole time the couple is just being well…cute. They have been together for nearly 50 years and you can tell they are still happy together. As they finish, I am scolding myself for being so afarid of stepping on toes or having my toes stepped on when my attending launches into his life story. I thought the Romanian resident was going to come unglued. I nearly put my face in my hands (oh please tell me we are not going to having a converting war in Exam Room 5). But in stead of the hellfire and brimstone, here is a tract have a nice day talk…we got a very not offensive story about the death of a patient early in my attending’s training and the insistence of her 4 yr granddaugther that Jesus had taken her grandmother to heaven, she had seen him do so. Sister SoSo is smiling and Elder SoSo is nodding. The resident looks confused and I am sort just sitting there shell shcoked because I don’t remember the last time I had such an open conversation like this “at work” where no one tried to convert anyone and no one died and no one left angry. And well no one converted anyone and it was sort of refreshing.
Sister SoSo kissed me on my cheecks as she left and I felt the profond need to thank her. Because she reminded me that I am being made numb. In all the attempts of my professors to mold me into a tolerant, caring, mutlicltural, bio-psycho-social modeled doctor, I have been so strongly discouraged from bringing up my faith, my story and my weaknesses with patients that I have been come afraid of talking about such things. And that is just sad, because those are all the things that will make a good doctor. And heck those are all the things that make me who I am and make life worth wild. The question we are taught to ask is what role will our spriituality and our life experiences play in our medical practice but I think the true question for me is what role will my medical practice play in my spirituality and my life experience.
I was a person and a Christian long before I was a medical students and I am profonding grateful for the reminder.