Giong Rieng Hospital

Tuesday, July 21, 2011

3:45 PM (Vietnam Time)

Yesterday, Scott, Ngan, and I went to Giong Rieng District Hospital, which is in the countryside of sorts. It was really hot that morning, so I was feeling overheated and wasn’t sure if I could make it. After downing a bottle of water, we headed for the bus. This was the first time that Scott and I had been on a public transportation bus. The other buses we have taken were charter buses for long distances, and thus, were much more well-kept. This bus had about 10 or 15 seats in it. There were one-seaters lined along the left-hand side of the bus, 5 in total. There was a bench on the right-hand side and one in the back. The rest of the bus was open space so that people with cargo – bags of herbs, fruits, or whatever else – could have room to store it. The leathered seats were torn and peeling. Once the bus arrived, we had to quickly hop on the bus, then the woman inside, went around and collected money from everyone. Ngan saw her neighbor from her hometown on the bus, and we all waved to say “hello.” After about 10 minutes, we transferred to a different bus.

The ride was scenic. We rode along the river and could see all the bridges made of wood and branches as we drove by. The three of us quickly fell asleep during this one hour bus ride. When we arrived, we were still half a kilometer from the hospital. Men with motorbikes approached us, as they always do when we get off a bus, asking us if we needed a ride anywhere. They wanted to charge us 20,000 Dong (equal to $1 USD), which was twice as much as they should. Ngan shook her head vigorously and said that it was too expensive. We defiantly walked away and asked directions from local coffee shop keepers by the side of the road. We walked along the side of the dirt road until we reached a bridge. Once we crossed the bridge, we turned left and walked through an outdoor market. The sun was blazing, and I had to borrow Ngan’s fold out straw hat. Ngan covered up with hood and mask to protect her skin from the sun. We continued walking, asking directions every few minutes.

We finally arrived in front of the hospital and were surprised at how much more beautiful it was compared to the general hospital. We ventured inside and asked to see Bac Si Thao (Dr. Thao), the vice director of the hospital. We were directed to the ICU. There was an outdoor courtyard with a perfectly kept and trimmed garden. We found Bac Si Thao, and he was extremely welcoming, and his English was quite good. We talked with him for awhile about our study, our goals, and what patients were being included in our study. He made many phone calls to numerous departments in his hospital, asking around for patients for us to interview. In the traditional medicine ward, we were so excited when the doctors said we had 4 patients to interview. Sadly, we found out that they all had had previous strokes, and therefore, had to be excluded from our study. We returned to the ICU, where there were 3 patients to interview.

The first patient was a 42 year old man who had a hemorrhagic stroke which caused him to be completely paralyzed on his right side. During my examination, I asked him to try his best to lift his right arm in the air. After struggling to move it, I saw tears gather at the corner of his eyes. Asking him to move his arms and legs illustrated to him how disabled he was. I then asked him to start reading a few lines, and he let out whimper and started crying. I saw tears dripping onto the sheet next to him and looked to see his wife crying to his left. My heart hurt for him as I watched him cry. I touched his wife and him on their shoulders, and I tried my best to console them. I told them that many of the patients I had seen could no longer understand anything, and definitely could not read as he could. I told him that, to me, he looked stronger than many of the patients I had seen. I patted his wife on the shoulder and tried so hard to comfort her. I can’t imagine how they felt, the thoughts running through their minds about how he would earn a living now; a man his young age disabled because of a stroke. Ngan and I looked at each other, and we both almost started crying ourselves. It was the first time, out of all the patients we had seen, that we had seen someone cry. They slowly stopped their tears and allowed me to finish my exam. Ngan then proceeded to interview them for the study. I turned around and looked at Scott and saw sadness in his big, green eyes too. I wish there was something more that we could have done to help.

We interviewed one more patient and headed to lunch. The Giong Rieng Hospital has a restaurant run by the nutritionist on site, and that is where we headed. Bac Si Thao was excited to share his food and his restaurant with us. For lunch, he ordered us so much food: we had Vietnamese-style short ribs (suong), fried duck eggs, fish from the river, vegetable soup, and some pickled cucumbers. During lunch, we exchanged words in English and Vietnamese. We taught Bac Si Thao, and in return, he taught us. Bac Si Thao was interested in learning about us and what the medical school system is like in the U.S. For dessert, we enjoyed fresh jackfruit and some Vietnamese jello.

After lunch, we went back to interview our last stroke patient of the day. We said our goodbyes to Bac Si Thao. We walked back to the bus station, and we ran to hop on it. We boarded it like a pro this time. The three of us sat in the one-seaters against the window, and I quickly fell asleep. However, the ride was so bumpy that I almost fell out of my seat. Ngan tapped me awake, and all three of us moved to the back of the bus where we subsequently fell asleep again.

Wandering the market

Audrey and Ngan browsing the goods

Meandering back to the bus stop

Views from our bus

A river dominated economy

Buddhism and buses

Duck passengers!

The Next Day:

On Wednesday, Scott and I went to the hospital and waited for Ngan. We gave her a call, and she told us that she was down with the fever. I told her to rest and get better. Scott and I had already committed going to the hospital, so I told Scott that I might be able to interview the patients using the Vietnamese questionnaire. It might just take a longer time. We headed to the ICU where we interviewed our first patient of the day. She was a 60-something year-old woman who was experiencing right-sided weakness. None of her family members could read Vietnamese, so I had to try my best to read the questions out loud to the them or read the English version and translate. We slowly moved through the questionnaire. Finally, a man from the family came, who could read some, and he was able to help me a bit. After an hour, we finally finished. It felt like such an accomplishment. Have I really learned that much Vietnamese while I have been here?

Scott and I moved up to the Neurology ward, where there was one more patient waiting for us. This is the first time that I actually saw a patient with paralysis of her eyes muscles. She was not be able to move her eyes to her paralyzed side, for her it was to the left. Her mouth was severely drooping, and she could not use her left arm and leg. After I examined her, I began the questionnaire. I asked her children the questions. They could read somewhat, so it helped me a lot. Some of the questions can be uncomfortable to answer because they ask about stress and depression, and many families do not like sharing that information. The son was a bit reluctant, but we eventually got through the interview. At the end, the daughter asked me if she will ever get back to normal. It was hard for me to answer, but I also could not lie to them. I told the family that she may get better, but she may never get back to 100% normal. Many of the patients I have met in Vietnam believe that there is an oral medication out there that can cure any disease or ailment. I had to tell them that there was no medicine here or in America that their mom could take that would cure her. The best they could do was to try to push her to use her weak arms and legs (I didn’t know how to say physical therapy), and to talk to her and challenge her so that she uses her brain everyday. I could just see the hope in their eyes fade a little. The son covered his face with his hands and looked distraught. They put so much hope in American doctors, and yet Scott and I couldn’t do anything more for them. They then asked why we were asking them all the questions. I tried to explain that the point of the interview was to discover why people in the Kien Giang province were getting strokes, and if we learned the reason, maybe we could help future patients prevent their strokes. I did not know how to say “research” or “study.” We left the hospital feeling happy that we were able to interview 2 patients without Ngan even though it took twice as long, but Scott and I were also both feeling heavy-hearted as if we were the bearers of bad news.

After a home-cooked lunch, Scott and I met up with Thu, Quoc, Richard, and some PVNF volunteers at the Tropical Coffee Shop. We came in, and they were seated downstairs after pushing many tables together. Many of them were doing work on their computers, so Scott and I took ours out and worked on the blog. It was a calm, relaxing end to the day.

-Audrey