When I walk up the steps to
Tafelsig Clinic each morning, I pass by a dozen or so people waiting outside
the building. Some of them are talking, some of them are eating food purchased
from the vendors across the street, but most of them are waiting for TB treatment
because they are highly contagious and not supposed to go into the rest of the
clinic. As I go inside, I enter the crowded waiting room, where on a typical
day I am greeted by nearly 200 faces. I scan the crowd, knowing that some of
them will be sitting there for over six hours before they are treated. The
primary care clinic, located 7 miles outside the city center in the township of
Mitchell’s Plain, provides free health care to about 500 men, women, and
children daily. Within the facility are rooms designated for adult care, mental
health, child health and immunizations, family planning, TB screening and
treatment, and HIV counseling. There is also a pharmacy where patients can pick
up medications at no cost and a larger multipurpose room used for dressing
wounds, performing EKGs, and, as the nurses say it here, “taking bloods.” Like
most primary care centers in South Africa, Tafelsig is largely run by
nurses—only two doctors are on duty at a time—and resources are limited. But
while the shortage of staff, lack of basic equipment such as blood pressure
cuffs and thermometers, and the use of paper files—as far as I have seen the
clinic has only a few computers— certainly stood out to me, it has been the
people here that have affected me most.
Yesterday I met a 37 year old
woman named Rene. She came in with her 6-week old baby because he was due for
immunizations and also had a bad cough which at times made him turn blue. After
identifying that the baby likely had pneumonia, the nurse went to call for an
ambulance to take them to the Red Cross, one of the largest children’s
hospitals in the area, where he would be able to receive better care since he
was so young. While the nurse was calling, Rene started a conversation with me,
and the next twenty minutes were some of my most interesting yet. She told me
that the baby was her fifth child; her oldest was my age, turning 21 at the end
of the year. Her children were from three separate fathers and lived in three
separate homes, and from what I could gather, she had been divorced at least
once. Rene had lived in Mitchell’s Plain her whole life, just down the road
from the clinic, she said. Her story was not uncommon; many women I have met so
far in this community started having children in their teens, are unmarried, and
have lived here from when they were born. But what Rene said next baffled me.
“Hey, this baby doesn’t have a name yet, what do you think I should name him?”
she asked, almost casually. I was stunned. Until this point, I had been surprised
enough that patients at the clinic trusted me with simple tasks such as taking
their blood pressures and giving them medicine. Now this woman was asking me to
give her suggestions for a name for her child, something that could last a
lifetime. Smiling, I said I didn’t know and would have to think about it. The
conversation shifted and at one point she gave me Baby to hold, but she soon
brought it back to the name—I was almost sure she was not going to leave
without me saying at least something. Knowing my name was Indian, she asked for
a Hindu name; I gave the first one that came to mind, my dad’s. “Krishna,” she
said, “I could call him that.” As we continued our conversation, she would
occasionally refer to the baby as Krishna, and I thought to myself how strange
yet fascinating this all was. When the nurse finally returned, Rene and I
exchanged goodbyes and in a matter of minutes, after possibly naming her newest
son, she was out the door. I realized I would probably never see her or Baby
Krishna again, but even though this was the case, I was thankful for the
conversation we shared that cloudy Tuesday afternoon.
Tafelsig has taught me many
things so far. I have learned how to give an HIV test, how to feel for the head
of a baby in a pregnant woman, and how to treat a child with the flu. Above
all, though, I have learned about communicating with people. Even though I didn’t
provide Rene or her baby with any medical care, I think that being there to
speak with her and listen to her was important. For me, Tafelsig has been a
prime example that even in communities with very little, patient care can go a
long way with both patience and love.
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