"Operation Pagi"

Two weeks ago, I did something I never imagined doing when I left the U.S. Below is the crazy story I never imagined having. But have it I do, so here goes.. :)

I visited our organization’s farm on Friday with some co-workers, and we stayed overnight. We were told that Saturday morning some of the guys were going to cut open a cyst, or tumor, on one of the goats.. They told us they were going to cut it open, and I thought it would probably drain
out of a small incision. Even though it seemed simple enough, it’s not really the norm for me in the States so, being the curious person that I am, I decided I would watch this process.

After eating our breakfast Saturday morning, we headed up to the goat barn. The surgery, to be performed by lay farm workers and a couple of my co-workers, was going to take place in the Pagi’s—our goat-patient—stall. No doctor, no sterile table. Just a feces-ridden stall floor. Here’s the setup: There are three men holding Pagi down on his side. Another man puts on gloves, preparing to do the actual incision, while my boss held the flashlight for better lighting under the stall roof. I was handed the pack of cotton to hold and my friend stood just behind me, taking a couple pictures.





They give Pagi several local anesthetic shots around the tumor located on his neck just below his left ear, which turned out to be 3 tumors next to each other, totaling about the size of 1 1/2 (female) fists side by side, one end of the tumor seemingly festering.





After somewhat letting the shots kick in, the 'point man' began an incision along the outside of the tumor. I quickly realized that this would not be the type of procedure I had imagined. The tumors were much larger than I expected, and solid. There was nothing draining out of the cut. They were going to slowly separate the tumor from the skin, and remove it. Soon, the point man left (to get something else? I still don’t know) and everyone got a little bit closer, since one of the men holding Pagi down was now using the scalpel.

Eventually I offered to hold the flashlight, so my boss could take a turn cutting and swabbing up blood. Before I knew it, my boss was called upon to go somewhere and asked me to take over the blood clean-up. What do you do when you’re the only ones there for the job? Of course I’ll wipe up blood! No gloves? No matter.






So on went the surgery, separating the skin from the hard mess of tumor. At one point, Pagi began hyperventilating and we paused the surgery to stop the excessive amount of blood he was losing. Eventually the tumor was cut out of Pagi’s neck. At the risk of giving “t.m.i.,” I even helped scrape some out with my hands, I’m pretty sure. None of this could have been very sanitary anyway, though. They stitched him back up with about 8 or 9 stitches for an incision
about 8 inches long, would be my guess. I realized after this was over that this must be why doctors “scrub-in” up to their elbows. It took a good 3-5 minutes to get all the blood off.







Sadly, I don’t have any pictures of after the surgery, but
the last I heard, Pagi was doing well. Within a day he was standing up and
eating. So far, so good. : )
So I guess you could say that on Easter weekend I was “covered
in the blood of the…goat.”

Picture Blog

Well, I figured it's about time to put some pictures up to show you what it's like where I live.

one of our beautiful sunsets

we have occasional "brown outs" that last anywhere from 20 minutes to 19hrs..

In the public market

The Mode of Public transportation

beautiful landscape

There are tons of beautiful flowers that grow in the tropical climate.

we are really close to the sea.. it's gorgeous.

delicous food that we eat here

a "thrift store"!!

Bored? Here’s something for your amusement.

The other day I was in my house, washing some dishes after breakfast. As I turned around toward our front door, I see a young boy, about 10 yrs old, standing in the doorway of our house. He’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him. The look on his face tells me that the look on mine must be shock. He stands there, feet planted, and says only one word-- “Bola”—while cupping
his hand together repeatedly. After a few seconds and with a complete mental block, I look over at our dishes and point to a bowl in a questioning manner. He looks at them, then back at me, and once again says “bola.” This time he looks around behind our door and spotting the basketball, picks it up and walks out. It is only then that I realize he is our friend’s son, who often lends that basketball to my housemate.

I promptly facepalm and laugh at myself for a few minutes, not knowing what just happened. Oh, the hilarities of language barriers!

Scene two:

I am sitting in a coffee shop the other day, and happen to
be skyping my friend. She is talking when out of the corner of my eye I see
something outside the window that catches my attention. There are 3 people
walking down the sidewalk—a man and 2 girls. The first girl has a hospital mask
on. The second is carrying an IV bag above head level, with the cord running
from it to… the first girls hand! It’s hooked up! The man is walking behind
them, all three strolling along in no hurry. As I describe this to my friend on
Skype who has noticed my wondering eyes, all of the sudden, I find myself
asking her, “We don’t do that in the States, right?” I am confirmed in this,
and so continue watching. They stop at the corner, and the women with the IV
bag hands it off to the man before turning back and leaving them. They stand at the corner for a minute before finally continuing on. I wish I could have gotten a good picture of it, but the place they stopped obscured my view of the women with the IV in her, and it was a little too far for a camera to get good shot, anyway.

I’m not really sure how one goes about closing a story like that. what does one say? ’Don’t let an IV stop you from living your life’?

Kalilangan

This past weekend was the annual festival of Kalilangan--a celebration to commemorate the founding of the city. It was full of events, and even a carnival with games and rides!

Still, the best part was Monday's parade. it was full of colorful costumes and beautiful dancing; not to mention catchy music!

The city was full of people, and of course the crowd was pushin in on the paraders. So the police had to make sure to hold people back behind a line... our particular police man near us was fun, joking with us as he reminded our friends to move back. So, pulling out my "I'm a foreigner" card, I asked for a picture with him, and he obliged.

I'm in Asia!

Asia is very different from North America, and I'm certain that even that is an understatement. There are many levels of these differences, and having been here only two weeks, I am only able to describe some of the surface level differences.

Traffic

In America, we have many traffic regulations, signs, and stoplights. Most people abide by these regulations, and the consequences are serious if you do not. If there is a lot of traffic, it moves much slower. We must wear seat belts, and stay in our lanes. cutting people off can be very offensive, and start screaming matches. There is a lot of "road rage" because people take things personally when they are driving. Honking generally means you are angry.

In Southeast Asia, traffic works differently. There are lanes and a few traffic lights, but they are more of suggestions. Even when there are large amounts of traffic, it can flow pretty quickly. People in the back seats especially don't have to wear seat belts. People weave in and out quite frequently, and cutting others off is just how you make sure you get where you need to go. Honking is common, and lets others know you are there, and are not stopping for them, but most times it is not a result of anger.

Time

In the States, my life can get pretty hectic. I find myself going from one thing to the next, rushing to make it on time. I worry about being late, because I might miss part of the event, or upset someone.

Here, time is so much more relaxed. If something is supposed to start on the hour, it may start 20 or 30 minutes after the hour, and no one is upset. The other day I had a funny clash with this aspect of the culture. During my break for lunch, a friend took me to run an errand. My next session was scheduled for 130 and my friend assured me we'd be back in time. We got a taxi there, but on the way back, had to hop in a "pedicab" (like a trike, but instead of a motorcycle, it is powered by peddling a bicycle). It was traveling quite slow, and the two of us realized we would not make it back in time. The only thing we could do was laugh and joke about slowing it down because we're too heavy! So I'm learning that I just need to let go enjoy the culture.

Food

I could talk forever about this. I love the food here. It is very different, but most everything I've had is delicious. One of the first things I learned about meals here is that it is not one unless there is rice. Also, they eat with a spoon in their right hand and a fork in their left. The fork is used to push food onto the spoon. Knives are not needed, because everything is prepared in small pieces or is easy enough to pull apart.

I could say much more on this subject, but I'm sure I'll have more stories to tell in the future.

I was going to also put up a video of me eating my first balut, or at least some pictures, but unfortunately they will not currently upload. Hopefully I can get them up soon!

Until next time,