Did I say that I had made peace with the lizard?

I think I had mentioned my increasing comfort level with the lizard (or perhaps lizards) that consider this home. That was until I came home today and found one on my bed, trapped under the mosquito netting. I shooed him out of my room with a broom and last I saw him, he was hiding safely under the stove. They're not poisonous or anything, but I still don't want to sleep with them.

So, obviously, if you're reading this post, I survived my first day out on the back of a motorcycle without a scratch. (Again, thanks to Michelle!) Remi is a very careful driver, and I think he also knew that I was nervous. It was a breeze though, and actually kind of fun. I also think, if you are a careful driver, it is much safer to be on a motorcycle on these roads than a pedestrian.

We saw 3 patients at home, and did 2 bereavement visits to family. At the end of the day I wondered out loud to William how they possibly find these patients for the first visit. There are no street signs, no house numbers, and there are many you couldn't even get to in something larger than a motorcycle. They get really good directions and the cell phone of a family member who can meet them at a more recognizable spot, then they are escorted in.

The home visits are filling a very critical need here, but they are limited to the palliative care patients. I can't imagine how the people I saw today would be able to make it in to the clinic or hospital in their conditions. Most people get around on foot or motorcycle, either owned or hired, and only the main roads in town are paved. There are potholes here that would make the potholes we complain about so much in Minnesota after the thaw look like little dents in the road.

I am continually amazed at the situations that people are living with. Poverty has a whole new meaning to me. There is not a lot of preventive medicine (any is more accurate), and given the cost, many/most people begin with traditional/homeopathic approaches to treatment, then as they get worse, they come to the hospital in very advanced stages of their illness.

And though dealing with serious illness is obviously very different here than in the states, there are some similarities. We were visiting a patient with very end stage lung cancer. She has a son who is a physician in Germany and he has instructed the palliative care staff to NOT inform the patient or his family caring for the woman that she has cancer. (Sound familiar, team?) Remi talked about how difficult it was to not be able to say anything, when it is so obvious that she is dying and the family is around her bed crying. The son wants to explain things when he comes in April. She will be lucky to make it to Friday, much less April.

I'm pretty pooped today. I'm skyping with Colin in a few minutes--yeah!

This is the Palliative Care office and clinic space.

This is Omar, who is 18 months old. He is quite intrigued by the camera and love looking at his own  picture. We were there to see his grandma on the far right. His mom is against the wall and that's William on the left. 

OK, this is not Cameroon, but I was missing, for a moment, winter in Minnesota, and my most favorite place in the whole world, the North Shore.