I began the morning on a queasy start. Last night, I ate a chicken wrap that all the Op Smile staff had and my stomach decided to vomit it up about an hour later. I wake up thinking I’m good, go to eat breakfast, and almost regurgitated that too. For the rest of the day I was fine though until nauseousness before dinner again. My slightly distended abdomen tells me that I’m pretty sure I have some sort of bug. Luckily it does not stop me from carrying on with this eventful day.
At about 8am, I edit and finalize the speech index survey from yesterday that will test whether older cleft palate patients show a difference in speech pre and post surgery. I am excited that this assessment may have larger implications for Operation Smile and potentially cleft palate surgery. Basically patients are turned away for cleft palate surgery (hole inside the roof of mouth which interferes with proper eating and speech) if they are above the age of about 12 years since the common train of thought is that speech has already developed and cannot be changed. Note: cleft lip (hole in face/lip) patients are given surgery regardless of age to fix the cosmetic deformity and improve social outcomes. At best, these older individuals get an opterator, a sort of retainer to help with speech. This questionnaire might be able to prove that performing cleft palate surgery in older individuals is in fact ‘worth it’ by demonstrating that their speech does actually improve.
I briefly leave in between working on testing the speech survey when I learned that the volunteer high school students are visiting a special needs school to teach them basic public health practices. I jumped at the opportunity to see how India treats disabled individuals and the school structure available. When we arrive at the school, it resembles an open house. The principal is a beautiful young and educated woman whose family founded the private special needs school that relies primarily on donations and meager salaries for the teachers. There are about 40 children enrolled but I count about 20 present. The enrollees range from all ages and different mental disability conditions. They are placed there for the day by their parents and learn vocational skills such as crafting, carpet making, and weaving rather than academic curricula. The special needs students were enthralled with the high school students’ presentation of nutrition, tooth brushing, and stop-drop-roll demonstrations. At the end of the presentation, the wonderful kids sang their theme song written by the founder of the school. The meaning entailed something along the lines of….help us lead a meaningful life, include us in society, emancipate our souls.
Being at the special needs school was a really positive experience for me. It brings me back to the days of leading Best Buddies, a college organization dedicated to forming friendships w/ mentally handicapped adults, Special Olympics, and most of all, what I had witnessed in Tanzania. I wasn’t sure what to expect in India after seeing the social injustice experienced by cleft lip and palate patients. I was happy to see there was at least one school providing services to these students in Guwahati. I then think about Junior, the 10 year old boy I saw in Tanzania, locked up with no options due to his mental incapacity to be integrated with the other kids. I have this inability to simply ignore injustices that I witness…they usually move me to do something or leave lasting impression or both. Junior and so many other things have touched me and moved me to start doing something about it. Obviously there is no solution or even a defined path, but I did make a promise to at least try.
I return back to the MMC hospital, continue working on the survey testing, and then talk to the two female interpreters about bringing me to grab a sari (Pompei and I are in the picture above). Hand in hand, the girls lead me through the small crowded streets of the Guwahati bazaar area as we walk into shopping alleys and pour through tons of fabric. I get a gorgeous teal and pink fabric with sewn gold sequins which I will have to take to get a hand-tailored sari..hopefully by the big festival on Tuesday. Then the girls really want me to try some spicy street food, I refuse like twice, and then decide that since I already have a stomach bug that it can’t get too much worse. The small crunch, cream-puffed looking crispy pastry was hand-stuffed with a liquidy mix of peppers and whatever else in the paper cone made from an old photograph. It was quite delicious and spicy, pretty much describing everything I’ve eaten thus far. Then around 7:30pm, the girls drop me off at the hospital to walk home. I go inside to grab something I forgot, stop to talk to some other staff, and then feel this immense rumbling. The ground was shaking and the hospital walls appeared to be swaying. The whole thing lasts about 10-15 seconds but it’s apparent that it was a large earthquake…I later find out 6.4 to be exact. Ironic that I live in LA and never felt one until India and am thankful that the aged hospital didn’t tumble.
Oh other random events. Saw a man riding an elephant in the middle of the crowded street among army trucks, cars, bikes, pedestrians as if it were typical and normal. Listened to an Indian song in a car w/ English parts about marrying a millionaire, hoping he dies, and finding another guy. And we had Domino’s pizza for lunch which deviates from normal traditional Indian food. Then a few of us brought the leftover personal pies to a hidden slum behind a large building (see picture). I was also mistaken for being an Assamese local today in the school. Never a boring day in India!
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