A good friend recently commented that my blogs seem to have a recurring theme – poop. What can I say, it’s a part of life. Poop happens. Apart from that deep philosophical musing, this will be a poop-free blog.
I have been meaning to tell you about my trip to the free clinic. I went to POPUP, People’s Upliftment Programme, a few weeks ago to find out what they have to offer for our orphans. During the tour of the facilities, we went to the medical clinic. In addition to vocational training classes, POPUP offers free medical services not just to their students but also to anyone in the community, even me. It is rudimentary - corrugated steel walls and roof, cement floors, plastic chairs – but that is not what attracted me. It was the really large woman who was introduced as the physiotherapist. She looked like a rugby player. She had big biceps, big hands, a big laugh, and a big heart to match, donating her time to the clinic every week. I knew I must have her. Working on my neck.
I came back during clinic hours. I got there right when it opened, but there was a line already. Only 4 people ahead of me, not too bad, how long could my wait be? 2 hours. And no outdated magazines to look at. The waiting room is outside and if those hard plastic chairs weren’t so very very cold (did I mention it is winter here), it would have been a pleasant wait. We were right next to the day care center for the children of the students in vocational training. They are so darned cute. The little ones were bundled up to protect them from the cold so much that they had trouble running around the playground and tipped over a lot while trying to play soccer. They don’t have proper warm clothing so they just keep putting on layer after layer until they can barely bend their arms and legs. So it didn’t hurt when they tipped over which made it okay for me to laugh at them.
After recess was over, they went into class and we could hear them singing. They sang Old MacDonald had a farm. Again - so cute! Then they came outside to a little pond in the yard where there are bunnies, ducks, chickens and continued the song while pointing to the animals.
Finally, the aide came out and starting talking to the patients to fill out the paperwork. I was really glad I was there for a neck injury after a car accident and not some girlie issue since this conversation took place right in front of everyone. The man sitting inches away from me answered all her questions about his delicate situation. I was so glad to go inside, now I would warm up. Nope, now you take your jacket and shirt off and lay on this table with just a curtain separating you from the outside world. The other wall was a curtain too where I could hear the doctor questioning a man about his rash.
Then the physiotherapist came in and my instincts proved right. She was good. She was strong and she knew what she was doing. Her fingers went right to the spots causing me pain. She asked me to slide toward her on the table so she could get to my neck. Before I could get my hands under me to squirm upwards, she had her hands under my shoulders and slid me down the table like I was Kleenex.
I found out that her practice is not far from my work office so I made an appointment to see her there. I felt guilty taking up the time in the free clinic when there are others that can’t afford to pay and for now, I can. I assumed her office would be warmer and more private. You would think I would have learned by now not to make any assumptions about the way things work in Africa. Her office was much warmer – real walls, fuzzy blankets, hot pads. But privacy is just a different concept here. There were several of us patients all lying on tables separated by curtains. So I am laying there with no shirt on while she works on my muscles, when she introduces me to the guy lying half naked behind the curtain (which I happen to know because I “accidentally” pulled the wrong curtain when trying to get out of there later, oops).
We all chatted, all of us half-naked faceless people behind curtains, about AIDS orphans (half-naked guy didn't know there were 2 million of them in his country), puppet shows, and how the American judicial system is designed to protect the rights of the criminals. Where your face pokes out through the hole in the table, you are looking down at a Bible verse printed on paper on the floor (it changes every time I come). After an hour of chatting, neck manipulating, muscle-knot poking, listening to Italian opera on the stereo system, and getting re-dressed, it was time to go. Goodbye man behind the curtain, nice chatting with you.
Next time maybe I'll tell you about how the physio stuck needles in my neck then attached electrodes. Lekker. That's Afrikaans for awesome.
I have been meaning to tell you about my trip to the free clinic. I went to POPUP, People’s Upliftment Programme, a few weeks ago to find out what they have to offer for our orphans. During the tour of the facilities, we went to the medical clinic. In addition to vocational training classes, POPUP offers free medical services not just to their students but also to anyone in the community, even me. It is rudimentary - corrugated steel walls and roof, cement floors, plastic chairs – but that is not what attracted me. It was the really large woman who was introduced as the physiotherapist. She looked like a rugby player. She had big biceps, big hands, a big laugh, and a big heart to match, donating her time to the clinic every week. I knew I must have her. Working on my neck.
I came back during clinic hours. I got there right when it opened, but there was a line already. Only 4 people ahead of me, not too bad, how long could my wait be? 2 hours. And no outdated magazines to look at. The waiting room is outside and if those hard plastic chairs weren’t so very very cold (did I mention it is winter here), it would have been a pleasant wait. We were right next to the day care center for the children of the students in vocational training. They are so darned cute. The little ones were bundled up to protect them from the cold so much that they had trouble running around the playground and tipped over a lot while trying to play soccer. They don’t have proper warm clothing so they just keep putting on layer after layer until they can barely bend their arms and legs. So it didn’t hurt when they tipped over which made it okay for me to laugh at them.
After recess was over, they went into class and we could hear them singing. They sang Old MacDonald had a farm. Again - so cute! Then they came outside to a little pond in the yard where there are bunnies, ducks, chickens and continued the song while pointing to the animals.
Finally, the aide came out and starting talking to the patients to fill out the paperwork. I was really glad I was there for a neck injury after a car accident and not some girlie issue since this conversation took place right in front of everyone. The man sitting inches away from me answered all her questions about his delicate situation. I was so glad to go inside, now I would warm up. Nope, now you take your jacket and shirt off and lay on this table with just a curtain separating you from the outside world. The other wall was a curtain too where I could hear the doctor questioning a man about his rash.
Then the physiotherapist came in and my instincts proved right. She was good. She was strong and she knew what she was doing. Her fingers went right to the spots causing me pain. She asked me to slide toward her on the table so she could get to my neck. Before I could get my hands under me to squirm upwards, she had her hands under my shoulders and slid me down the table like I was Kleenex.
I found out that her practice is not far from my work office so I made an appointment to see her there. I felt guilty taking up the time in the free clinic when there are others that can’t afford to pay and for now, I can. I assumed her office would be warmer and more private. You would think I would have learned by now not to make any assumptions about the way things work in Africa. Her office was much warmer – real walls, fuzzy blankets, hot pads. But privacy is just a different concept here. There were several of us patients all lying on tables separated by curtains. So I am laying there with no shirt on while she works on my muscles, when she introduces me to the guy lying half naked behind the curtain (which I happen to know because I “accidentally” pulled the wrong curtain when trying to get out of there later, oops).
We all chatted, all of us half-naked faceless people behind curtains, about AIDS orphans (half-naked guy didn't know there were 2 million of them in his country), puppet shows, and how the American judicial system is designed to protect the rights of the criminals. Where your face pokes out through the hole in the table, you are looking down at a Bible verse printed on paper on the floor (it changes every time I come). After an hour of chatting, neck manipulating, muscle-knot poking, listening to Italian opera on the stereo system, and getting re-dressed, it was time to go. Goodbye man behind the curtain, nice chatting with you.
Next time maybe I'll tell you about how the physio stuck needles in my neck then attached electrodes. Lekker. That's Afrikaans for awesome.
Sorry to hear that you're still experiencing pain in your neck. At least you're not being accused of being one-pain in the neck.
ReplyDeleteBonnie
Hey Lisa, Good luck with your neck. And good story! Love ya, Nancy
ReplyDeleteLisa,
ReplyDeleteYou are a great story teller. Thanks for the great tales and updates. Much love to you.
Laura Hood Beckman