BEREGA, Tanzania — The young woman had already been in labor for two days by the time she reached the hospital here. Now two lives were at risk, and there was no choice but to operate and take the baby right away.One of my early dreams in medicine was to volunteer for Doctors Without Borders (aka Medicins san Frontieres) after the completion of medical school and residency. I was a pre-med at the time and a part of the Medical Student Mentorship Program at UH. I told my mentor what I wanted to do and he said "That's charity work. Your debts will accrue and you'll fall behind." He went on for a few more minutes and I got the distinct impression that A) it would not advance my career if I wanted to pursue a fellowship and B) it would bring about financial devastation.
It was just before dawn, and the operating room, powered by a rumbling generator, was the only spot of light in this village of mud huts and maize fields. A mask with a frayed cord was fastened over the woman’s face. Moments later the cloying smell of ether filled the room, and then Emmanuel Makanza picked up his instruments and made the first cut for a Caesarean section.
Mr. Makanza is not a doctor, a fact that illustrates both the desperation and the creativity of Tanzanians fighting to reduce the number of deaths and injuries among pregnant women and infants.
Pregnancy and childbirth kill more than 536,000 women a year, more than half of them in Africa, according to the World Health Organization.
If I cared about those things, I would have taken his words to heart. Part of the reason why I did some research (a sideline to medical school) on Malaria was to get in contact with some of people with similar interests. I worked with a lab that has extensive connections in Cameroon and participated in research with involving the risks of malaria infection in pregnant women. (more on that to come.)
"Am I ready for something as big as this? Can I handle it? This would be a huge change in lifestyle." These sorts of anxious questions give me pause in pursuing such ambitious dreams wholeheartedly. The NY Times article has a real sense of urgency and fatigue to it. These undertrained, underappreciated doctors and nurses are working so hard and with such little help. What could I do? I would be but a drop in a bucket.
I found the words of Paul Farmer to be very inspirational.
For me, an area of moral clarity is: you're in front of someone who's suffering and you have the tools at your disposal to alleviate that suffering or even eradicate it, and you act.
My future plans to have a private practice with greatly motivated patients is tempered by my equal desires to become a teaching faculty member for a medical school and train young physicians, as well as travel to rural areas. Why do I want to do all of these things? I am reminded of something I said at a homeless clinic to my preceptor -- "We Do what is Needed." As a physician, I feel a sense of strong duty to the world to ensure that I make the biggest difference possible... and that means tackling the problem from as many angles as possible. That's my dream at least. We'll see how it all plays out.