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I have now been working in Jamaica for two weeks and am already halfway through this elective! I have adjusted to how things work here, although everyday something new surprises me. Just yesterday, I came across a family of goats who had wandered into the hospital compound and acted like they had always lived there.

Also, no matter where you live, kids…

1. Love Dora

2. Put rocks in their ears

3. Scream and cry when you remove rocks from their ears

4. Really like stickers

5. Get bitten by rats (okay that one is just Jamaica)

This week there was a Pseudomonas outbreak on the pediatric ward of one of the local hospitals. This, combined with the ongoing severe drought that was exacerbated by all the kids returning to school, has resulted in only the sickest of patients being admitted to hospital. Everyone else has to manage at home.

Here are the Patois phrases that I have mastered so far:

• Du du = poop

• Juk = needle

• Cold in the eyes = eye discharge

• Cold in the chest = could mean anything

• Me no wanna = I don’t want to buy that

• Soon come = they have no idea when it’s going to come

Favourite Food of the Day: Chicken patties. Also, coconut bread pudding with vanilla sauce.

It has now been a full week of working and living in Jamaica and I’ve learned a lot, both about medicine in a resource-limited setting and about life in Jamaica.

My approach to medicine here is quite different from what I do back home. In Canada, I do my history and physical exam, create my differential diagnosis, and then order investigations to confirm the diagnosis, usually before proceeding to treatment. In Jamaica, I do my history and physical exam, create my differential diagnosis, and then treat whatever I can based on the limited medication options that are available.

Investigations are hard to come by here: other than the basic CBC, renal and liver panels, urinalysis, and X-rays (some of which are only available in the “bigger” local hospitals), I don’t have ready access to things like cultures and sensitivities, ultrasound, CT scan, interventional radiology, and MRI (they actually laughed at me when I mentioned that MRI is better than X-ray for diagnosing osteomyelitis).

“Free” healthcare in Jamaica is not the same as free in Canada. A lot of medications are not available at local hospitals which means families have to pay out of pocket at private pharmacies. Likewise, an abdominal ultrasound costs approximately 6000 Jamaican dollars (about $60 USD), which most families can’t afford. Even having a family doctor is not included in government-funded healthcare. Thus if my treatment recommendations include anything not provided by the local hospital, my patients will simply not do it.

Without these tools, I find myself treating patients for conditions that I’m not even sure they have. But it’s the best I can offer them with what’s available. Sometimes, it is unsatisfying: I miss that feeling I get when I know exactly what is wrong with a child and can offer definitive treatment.

I have also stopped asking about animal exposures because all of my patients are regularly exposed to dogs, chickens, lizards, and goats. Heck, so am I. At any given time, a stray chicken can be seen waddling across the hospital corridors.

Other lessons I have learned this week include the following:

If you don’t tilt the shower head just so, you will flood the entire bathroom and all your things in it.

The incessant “weet weet” sound that follows you from dusk until dawn is actually the call of the Jamaica tree frog. This lesson was brought to me by my husband who was amused by the mystery background noise present in all of our Skype sessions.

If I am in a car full of Jamaicans, I will be the only person wearing a seat belt. This is mildly terrifying given the nature of their driving (see previous post for full details).

The little island across from the resort, of which I have taken innumerable beautiful photos, is actually an all-nude island.

Things I have yet to learn include:

Understanding Patois, the version of “English” that Jamaicans speak which incorporates local phrases and slang.

Not feeling completely awkward as the only solo person at a couples resort.

How to set free the tiny lizard that is still trapped in the living room.

Favourite food of the day: pan-seared snapper!

My first day of work started with an hour long drive up narrow, winding roads pockmarked with deep potholes every hundred meters or so. Thankfully, my driver was very familiar with said potholes and showed no sign of fear or hesitation when rounding tight corners at high speeds while simultaneously passing another car in the one and only lane. The views of the mountainous jungles were beautifully distracting as were the colourful shanty towns that dot the way. Stray dogs, chickens, and humans could often be found wandering dangerously close to our vehicle’s path.

The clinic I was headed for was actually a last minute change as the previously assigned clinic had been shut down because of crumbling infrastructure and “infestation” (I still don’t know what that really means). When we finally arrived at 9am, I was greeted by a group of lovely clinic workers who promptly told me that we couldn’t start seeing patients yet because there was no water. Apparently, there has been a nation-wide drought for months. The government deems it too expensive to pump water into these areas so the people (and the clinic) rely on “water trucks” to sporadically fill their reservoirs. Of course, the Jamaican “soon” turned out to be a four-hour wait. But, eventually, I did start seeing patients by 1:30pm.

Based on my first afternoon of clinic, I can confidently say that there is currently an outbreak of bullous impetigo in the area. Fortunately, the pharmacy’s large selection of exactly three different antibiotics (sarcasm intended) is sufficient to treat this condition. After a packed afternoon of not understanding what my patients were saying (I swear we’re not always speaking the same language) and realizing the only investigations I could reliably perform was basic blood work (50/50 chance for culture results, don’t even think about a chest X-ray), I finally managed to see all of the registered patients by 4pm.

Despite a crazy, sweaty (35 degrees Celsius without air conditioning), and slightly confusing first day, it was blissful to come “home” to an air-conditioned room and a cold shower. I finished my day in true tropical island style: cocktail party with live music, sumptuous dinner on the beach, and a fantastic acrobatic show complete with fire dancers!

Not a bad first day. Now if only I could figure out how to set free the tiny lizard that is trapped in the living room…

Favourite Food of the Day: fried plantain!

From August 13, 2015 Jamaica Gleaner

The United States Agency for International Development (USAID), along with the Government of Jamaica and the Jamaica diaspora, recently hosted a five-week Camp Summer Plus programme in Jamaica. Participants were instructed in reading and mathematics and the arts. Careful thought was given to the medical, dietary, social behavioural and academic fortification of students.

The Issa Trust Foundation, chaired by Paul Issa, who is also the deputy chairman of Couples Resorts, facilitated medical clinics at Sam Sharpe Teachers’ College in Montego Bay, Cedar Grove Academy in St Catherine, and the College of Agriculture, Science and Education in Portland, from July 13-15.

Dr Jeff Segar led the team which gave 362 children a physical examination, basic blood tests, hearing and vision screening, pharmacy medications, when needed, and fluoride treatments. Eyeglasses were provided through a partnership with Michigan Lions Club to one in four of the children seen.

A questionnaire was developed to assist the team to identify risk factors for impaired learning, and also to assist in identifying potential future interventional measures designed to promote learning in this population. If parents had to pay out of their pockets for the medical care, eye examination and glasses, it would cost them approximately $75,000 each.