Thrushsong

2009-02-18T19:29:00.000-08:00

I returned last Friday from a visit to Bere’ Adventist Hospital where my daughter works as a volunteer nurse. I am trying to understand my experience there and to learn what it offers to teach me about myself, other people and cultural interaction. To get to Bere’ I flew 7 hours from Washington D.C. to Paris, then 5 hours from Paris to N’Djamena, the capital of Chad. The next morning we rode by bus for 5 hours, to Kelo and traveled the last 50 kilometers to Bere’ by motorcycle. The whole trip including layovers took about 42 hours.

Bere’ Adventist Hospital is a small 50 bed hospital. There are a number of government hospitals in Chad that are larger and better equipped, however, patients frequently pass these hospitals en route to Bere’.

The nurses at the hospital obtain vital signs and perform patient assessments, administer medications, manage IVs and catheters, and dress wounds. The nurses do not feed or bathe patients, wash clothes, linens, or bandages. All of these tasks are performed by their families. The patients sleep in open rooms holding as many as eight beds. The adult patients are assigned to these wards according to diagnosis irrespective of age or gender.

When the doctor orders treatment for the patient, the family must go to the hospital pharmacy to purchase the necessary supplies such as IV fluids, IV catheters, antibiotics, dressings, and oral medications, etc. These supplies are all kept in small cardboard boxes underneath the beds. If there is no money to buy these supplies, the family may choose to impound a bicycle, cooking pot, or other valuable so that the supplies may be purchased on credit. The costs are miniscule by 1st world standards ($2 for a Rocephin injection) but are substantial when one considers that 500 francs ($1) is the usual daily wage.

There are no curtains. There is no privacy. Not only do family members overhear conversations between health care workers and other patients, family members or other patients may be actively recruited to serve as translators, asking personal questions and relaying sensitive information to the health care workers or giving the patients instructions on behalf of the doctor or nurse. Enemies sometimes find themselves in adjacent cots.

One feels that one is awash in a sea of humanity. People are sleeping on the beds, beside the beds, and underneath the beds. They are sitting on reed mats on the porches, cooking over fires in the courtyards, and hanging laundry out to dry on clotheslines. They are watching one another’s children and one another’s dressing changes. Medical conversations often pass through two translators.

During the few days I was a part of this it seemed that my emotional reactions were intensified. When a young Arab woman lost her pregnancy and then died a few hours later, I wept as I watched her turbaned husband sobbing at the foot of her bed. I wept again as I helped a Gumbai woman take her first hesitant steps after eight years of walking on her knees. Unfamiliar with the medical illnesses that are common in this region or how to treat them, I nevertheless felt compelled to attempt to help in some small way.

What created the intensity? Were my emotional reactions heightened by cultural differences between myself and these patients? Did my inability to communicate verbally make me more observant of non-verbal communication? Was I more sensitive to the feelings of these patients because of their marked lack of privacy? Was it simply because the whole situation, (smells, clothing, practice) was so unfamiliar that my senses were in overdrive?

This heightened empathic response was not unpleasant, indeed it was intoxicating. But does this emotional state actually make one a more effective caregiver? Was it created at the expense of good judgment? What are the corollaries between my experience in Chad and that of immigrants working in Brooke Grove’s facilities? These are some of the questions that I am still pondering as a result of this experience.

2008-12-07T12:33:00.000-08:00

We’ve already begun receiving holiday greetings from friends. This year we’d like to join the majority of you who send out a greeting before the New Year begins.

Currently Elizabeth and I are living in our three-room guest house. We moved in October right after the last child left. Moving into the guest house was a “move up” in several ways. Its location on the crest of the ridge means we enjoy the bright morning sun flooding our kitchen as we eat breakfast together. Because it is small and tight, we are warmer with just one woodstove in operation than we were in our previous home with two stoves, and of course, we are consuming our woodpile more slowly.

In addition to her work at Washington County Free Library, beginning in January, Elizabeth will be participating in an effort to catalog the Doleman collection. This collection of African-American memorabilia was recently donated to the City of Hagerstown. Elizabeth was recruited to digitally photograph and individually describe each of the thousands of artifacts included in the collection. She brings books and DVDs to Papa several times a week. She recently organized family and friends to feed 70 people at the Reach cold weather shelter in Hagerstown for the Saturday evening after Thanksgiving.

Evan and Jenny moved from Missoula, Montana to Olney, Maryland last June so that Jenny could begin a graduate program at the University of Maryland. She will complete a master’s degree in education and will receive her credentials to teach English at the secondary level in time to begin teaching next fall. She is doing student teaching at the River Hill High School in Clarksville and taking night classes in College Park.

Evan is working 4 days a week as a concierge for the Independent Living community on the Brooke Grove Retirement Village campus. On day five he writes for the corporate marketing department and is reworking the information to be presented on Brooke Grove Foundation’s website.

Ansley is a volunteer nurse at Bere’ Adventist Hospital in Chad. She lives with a laboratory technician, his wife, and their five (soon to be six) children. She has planted a garden and purchased a horse. Thanks to Sarah Appel, the director’s wife, she is learning to ride and care for it. She emails posts for her blog via a satellite phone to Alban who puts them up on the web. You can learn more about her life in Chad at www.howeareyou.blogspot.com.

Alban is a math major at Walla Walla University. He is living in an apartment with his friend, Phil, and calls Elizabeth frequently for recipes. He worked on the Obama campaign in Oregon last fall and is flying back in January to attend the inauguration. Last summer, Alban traveled from Bangkok to Frankfurt largely on trains. You can learn a bit more about that trip at www.albaninasia.blogspot.com .

Ted is thankful to be related to the rest of his family and to have so many loyal and interesting friends. He is enjoying good health, more time with Elizabeth, and daily morning walks with his father. He is working with an architect to create a plan to renovate the main house, and is trying to get up the nerve to begin the actual project early next spring.

Love,

Ted and Elizabeth

2008-09-12T03:07:00.000-07:00

Returning Children

Last night our youngest son, Alban, returned from a three month Transasia excursion. I believe he was happy to be home but I suspect that his return was a larger event for me than for him. I always feel that the first 6 hours or so after a child returns are the most precious. The ride home from the airport and the first meal together are the times when memories are most readily shared, before they are diluted by the next day's responsibilities and while the contrasts between what one has just experienced and what one is coming back to are most vivid.

He talked about food, taxi drivers, and loneliness on the central Asian steppes. He recounted conversations on trains and shared insights about himself gathered from traveling with one other person across nine time zones.

When our children were small we were often counseled by older parents to enjoy the present because it is over so soon. I didn't anticipate how much joy I would experience when my children became adults.

2008-08-21T18:13:00.000-07:00

This post is for those of you who enjoy seeing the subtle visual changes that occur as one moves through a season. This is a wistful time. Summer isn't over but there are clear signs that its days are numbered. We anticipate Fall's beauty, but one can't relax in Fall when winter is coming.

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This is a hand drawn post card I received today from Alban.

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Here are a few snaps from a week ago when we spent the weekend at the farm with the Fords and Evan and Jenny.

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These are a few pictures from Ted and Beth's 29th anniversary.

2008-06-08T18:57:00.000-07:00

This one's for you, Paul B.

Tools

I like tools. I am not the first owner of the tools I treasure most. My corner (mortising) chisel, whetstone, blacksmith vise, and scythe were in the woodshop next to the home I grew up in. My brother and I spent many happy hours working there. Our home was a log house built in 1794. The woodshop was of later vintage, probably late 1800s.

I have a 12 oz claw hammer that belonged to my maternal grandmother. She would not let my grandfather touch it because he always lost her tools. I also have the knife she used to split salmon before hanging them up to dry. Dried salmon was what the sled dogs ate through the winter. In later years she used the same knife to cut her raisin bread.

A number of my tools came from patients, most of them now deceased. It's always a bit delicate to ask their widows if I can buy their tools, but I do really treasure the beautifully made sanding block that once was Clairmont Friday's. I have a really nice brace and set of augers that belonged to a patient of Dr. Secondari's in Boonsboro. Dr. Secondari was recovering from a mitral valve replacement and I did a locum tenens for him 20 years ago. The patient, whose name I'm blocking on but whose initials A.H.S. are on my tri-square, had been a handyman. He had suffered a stroke and had lost the use of his right arm and could just barely walk. His stroke had also affected his speech and he couldn't say much but he cried as he handed me his toolbox.

I have two anvils made from a short piece of train rail. One of them was made by my patient, Willard Hodsden's father. (More about the other one below) Mr. Hodsden was an electrical engineer and a master craftsman. I have many of his tools including his Delta drill press, table saw and wood lathe. He sold those to me but gave me the circa 1940 GE range and oven that is in our farmhouse. He had hung on to it because of the memory of the apple pies his mother baked in it.

I have several of Cecil Powell's tools. Though just five feet four, Cecil Powell was the strongest man I ever personally knew. He was the maintenance man for the nursing home I grew up next to. As a young man he had lived in Grafton, WV. He plowed the family farm with a team of horses. He laid rail on the lines built to haul coal out of the mountains. The other anvil I have was his. Cecil Powell was not a finish carpenter, but you could count on what he built would "hold you". He was always punctual, kept his word, said little and worked circles around most everyone else. He put away his tools for the last time when his second hip prosthesis failed.

This evening I needed to straighten a piece of steel I found at the dump. I'm going to use it to strengthen the tow bar on my tractor. I got out Cecil Powell's three pound ball peen hammer and his anvil. Years ago he cut some grooves in the hammer handle to increase its grip. He used a grinder to do it and the result is effective though not pretty . In about 10 minutes I had straightened the steel bar and now have it clamped to the tow bar ready to weld.

I'm thankful to have known all of these people. I think they would be happy to know I treasure their tools, the memory of their friendship and the lessons they taught me. I wonder what will become of my tools when I can no longer use them.

2007-11-06T17:25:00.000-08:00

Carbon Emissions

I've been reading the article in the October issue of National Geographic that discusses strategies to reduce carbon emissions. Oh it's easy to be proud of the fact that none of our vehicles have more than 4 cylinders and all get 30mpg or more, or that so far this season, the only heat we've had in the house (excepting the electric blanket) has been from burning firewood. But then I do have to admit that we have one vehicle for every member of our family and sometimes each of us drives to church separately because we can't all seem to get ready to leave at the same time. At Alban's encouragement we have begun to separate our trash and place what we can in the recycle bins. Instead of salving my conscience though, this has made me more aware of all the plastic containers we go through per week which is another way of recognizing how much prepared food we eat. When one considers that hydrocarbons were used for the fertilizer, pesticides, cultivation, harvesting, packaging, and transport of these food items, one can imagine that they are awash in carbon emissions.

I'm wishing for the days of printed cotton flour sacks that my patients used to swap with one another to get enough of one print to make a dress from; the days when families bought flour and sugar in 50 pound lots and ate food they'd preserved from their own gardens right through the winter.

Of course wishing for the good old days is just a way of avoiding making the hard decisions necessary to really reduce the amount of carbon emissions I'm responsible for. Maybe I could start by putting the storm windows up tonight, and go put another layer on rather than fire up the furnace.

2007-10-14T18:38:00.000-07:00

First Fire

Friday night I built the first fire of this season. First pine shavings, then pine sticks, then locust and hickory bark, then oak. Beth and Alban and I sat next to the stove while we ate roasted pepper and tomato soup and prosage brunch burgers. Mmmm. I brought the fireplace tools down from the tool shed today. A shop brush, a metal dustpan, an old coal scoop and a poker I made several years ago. They are all in their places now. When I go outside I enjoy the smell of woodsmoke. Thanks to Tim and his boys my firewood is all stacked up and ready. I have a dead chestnut oak below the house that I will cut up and carry up after Christmas. I have plenty of wood to last well beyond that time. It is a good feeling. It is not time yet for an all day fire, just a quick fire for breakfast and another for supper. I am burning the bark that Papa Haskins and Grandpa Weir stacked up. It is perfect for this purpose.

2007-09-12T17:36:00.000-07:00

Song for Pete

He said it first. He had been my patient for several years. He had been dying the whole time. His lungs were already shot before a doctor inadvertently slipped an NG tube into his trachea rather than his esophagus and instilled a liter of liquid food into his right lung. By the time he made it back to the nursing home, only his left lung was functioning. There was only one position he could get into in bed that allowed him some relief from chronic air hunger. Consequently that is the position he was always in. The skin on his bottom was always broken down or at risk of breaking down because we couldn't change his position in bed.

Still, in the midst of his dying, he chose to live. He never complained. He never cursed the doctor who had made a mistake. Instead he told me what it was like to be shot down over Germany. "First the engine on the left wing caught fire... I was the last to jump." We looked at pictures of the big cargo planes he piloted. We discussed the classical music he enjoyed and watched a video together of a Peregrine Falcon in flight.

He willed himself to live until the lawsuit was settled. Then he called his family to him and said his good byes. Looking at me over the rims of his glasses he said (with 15 second pauses after every one or two words) "I'm very tired, I can't get my breath, I'm ready to go through with it now". We agreed I wouldn't treat his pneumonia this time. I would do everything I could to make him comfortable. As I sat at his bedside I thought "I really love this man, I should tell him." When I stood up to leave, he said "I love you."

"I love you, too, Pete," I said.

2007-07-24T05:11:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I spent at the farm mowing fencerows (on Red's 4020 John Deere!) and repairing the farmhouse roof. Marty Caton just happened to be regrading the township road the same weekend. The highlight of the weekend was when Beth, Mark and Cindy came up to visit on Sabbath.

2007-07-24T05:01:00.000-07:00

2007-07-11T10:31:00.000-07:00

Here are some pictures from the weekend of July 6-8. T&B's 28th anniversary. We stayed at the farm. We took several walks. We visited Penn Alps where we saw Mark and Cindy. (Mark has recently survived fractures of C2 and C7.)

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2007-06-11T17:24:00.000-07:00

Rizpah

This evening as I looked out on the fields from the second floor of the nursing home where I work, I saw in the fading sunlight a circle of vultures sitting around a dark object lying in the windrows of freshly mown hay. As they converged a doe came out from the trees at the edge of the field to drive them back. This little dance continued. Because there was once a time in my life when I worked in hayfields, I have little difficulty visualizing the fawn that hid in the tall grass until it was too late to escape the sickle bar of the mowing machine and now shorn of its legs it will not live through the night.

I cry out for young ones cut down in the spring of their lives. I cry out for mothers who grieve for them as they die. I cry out also for my 90 year old patient whose leg is dying and who will die with it, and for my 98 year old patient with pneumonia whose life began in Poland, who as a young woman worked the sweatshops in Brooklyn, whose children and grandchildren became doctors and lawyers and business people, and who asks me tonight how my children are rather than complain about her own situation. I cry out against death and dying, but in the end I know the vultures will come.

2007-06-10T11:46:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday I drove from Walla Walla, Washington with Alban, his friend Kristin, and his roomate Phil, to worship at the Church of the Redeemer in Pendleton, Oregon where Alban has been serving as church organist. It was a very warm, welcoming, and happy experience. As you might imagine, the service was quite interactive including hymns to sing, responsive readings, times to stand up, times to kneel down, opportunities to "share peace"and an invitation to communion. Most in attendance were my age or older. It became apparent in conversation with them after the service that they had adopted Alban as "their son" and were in many ways accepting the role of spiritual parents. Kristin graciously helped me make my way through the service and lent me her camera to take these pictures.

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Philip Gray, Kristin McMiller, and Alban

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Kristin McMiller, Mrs. Moss, Alban, Reverend Moss, and Philip Gray

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Alban talking with a friend after church.

2007-06-10T04:48:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I had the pleasure of visiting Alban at Walla Walla. He performed the part of Claudio in the Shakespeare comedy, Much Ado About Nothing. These photos are not ideal due to the no flash policy but will give you an idea.

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Claudio eyes Hero while Beatrice and Benedict spar.

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Don Pedro means to woo Hero for himself!

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Hero, Claudio, Beatrice, and Don Pedro

2007-06-10T04:34:00.000-07:00

Sigh no more, Ladies.

2007-06-10T04:33:00.000-07:00

A plot to ensnare Beatrice and Benedict.

2007-06-10T04:32:00.000-07:00

Hero untrue?

2007-05-27T02:19:00.000-07:00

Ted and Elizabeth’s Trip to Peru

On April 18, 2007, Elizabeth and I flew to Lima and then over the Andes to Pucallpa, to visit our daughter, Ansley, and our nephew, John. We spent 10 very happy days there. Pucallpa is a busy town on the Ucayali river, which joins with two other rivers at Iquitos to form the Amazon. After spending five days in Pucallpa, we flew to Cuzco, elevation about 10,000 feet, located in the south central highlands. Cuzco was once the capital of the Inca empire, and the Incan infrastructure still forms the basis of its streets and walls. From Cuzco we traveled by taxi to Ollantaytambo on the Urubamba river and then by train down the Urubamba gorge to Machu Picchu. Following, in reverse order, are some pictures from our trip.

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Our day at Machu Picchu began with a climb to the shepherd's hut perched on the terraces above the city.

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Huts for storing produce.

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Ansley's view when the mist lifted.

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Happy Times at M.P.

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The main gate leading into the city.

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The same doorway looking back at the shepherd's hut.

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This doorway led to the royal apartments.

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This aqueduct cut into one of the terrace walls carries water into the city of Machu Picchu.

2007-05-26T18:41:00.000-07:00

There are 16 water fountains in Machu Picchu. How do you cut a square basin and waterway in stone with stone hand tools?

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The next few pictures were taken in Cuzco. Here we are in a convent garden.

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This is the street we climbed to get to our hostel in Cuzco.

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Hand forged latch on the hostel door.

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The community kitchen of our hostel in Cuzco.

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The wall on the right was originally the foundation of an Inca temple

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You can get anything you want at the Cuzco market,

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flowers,

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queso,

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piggy heads,

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or a fruit and vegetable smoothie. (She put beets in Ansley's without asking)

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Sacsaywaman, a fortress on the Inca road that leads into Cuzco is built of huge stones.

2007-05-26T18:21:00.000-07:00

These children were models for hire.

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2007-05-26T17:41:00.000-07:00

At Pucallpa, the Ucayali river is very wide yet the current was surprisingly swift. The little transport boats called Pekipekis (for the sound their outboard motors make) must take the current into account when crossing to the river dwellings off shore.

2007-05-26T17:38:00.000-07:00

River Children

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I couldn't believe the loads this man carried to shore.

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These river canoes were being built on the river bank. I think each could hold 15-20 people, or lots of platanos. I could have watched the men build them all day.

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Though made with hand tools and a crude table saw, the craftsmanship was extraordinary.

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Here are beans and peas.

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The produce is displayed beautifully. Much of it comes to Pucallpa by truck from the highlands.

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Lots of kinds of bread to choose from.

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Here is the TP vendor.

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This is the house on the land at Km 38 (38 kilometers from Pucallpa, Peru) where my daughter, Ansley, lives. Also my nephew, John was there for nine months as well as Jackson, Ryan, and Alex. They were all taking a year off from college (except John who will be a freshman this fall) to build this house and to operate free medical clinics in the highlands and Amazon region of Peru. Two other students, Jenny and Karen lived here intermittently as well.

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The kitchen is well lit in the morning, its window faces east.

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Ansley making cinnamon rolls for Sabbath morning breakfast.

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These planks were cut from the tree using the chainsaw. Then they are taken to the woodshed and sawed on a table saw into boards.

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We had this trailer built to facilitate transporting the planks, which weigh I would guess about 300 to 400 pounds each, from the jungle. We drove into Pucallpa to a metal shop with a hand drawn sketch one evening and it was ready for us the next evening. John and I built a bed and sides for it. Now instead of it taking four boys to haul one plank out, two boys pulling this cart can haul two or three planks per trip. (The wheel is an amazing labor saving device)

2007-05-26T16:05:00.000-07:00

Oswaldo lives on "the land" in a house nearby. He is a beekeeper and grows a patch of sugar cane. He has a little stand out on the road and sells honey (lined up in jars on the shelf) and sugar cane juice. You can see the hand cranked machine that squeezes the juice in front of me. A glass of juice is 50 centavos (15 cents,) a jar of honey costs 8 soles ($2.75.) Beth says the honey tastes like sugar cane juice. We're not sure if that's because there were lots of sugar cane blossoms for the bees to find, or if Oswaldo laced the honey with sugar cane juice.

2007-05-26T15:52:00.000-07:00

Elizabeth doing laundry at the back of the house.

2007-03-17T19:59:00.000-07:00

Elizabeth - The best pastry chef in Washington County. This shell is on its way to becoming a strawberry glace' pie.

2007-03-17T19:43:00.000-07:00

Sabbath Morning 3-17-07

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I carved Beth Anne's name into the bark of this Beech Tree 31 years ago. I passed by the tree recently and was happy to find that her name remains on this tree as it does in my heart.

2007-03-14T02:57:00.000-07:00

Spring Peepers

Last night after dark and again this morning when I stepped outside before dawn I heard a lovely, high-pitched, pulsating sound. At the same time I sensed the warmth of the air and the smell of thawing soil. Spring Peepers, Cardinals' songs, longer days, and first crocus seen are all unmistakable signs of spring. Almost before spring begins I become wistful knowing that it will not last. Perhaps that is why we love spring so much, it carries the knowledge that "Nothing gold can stay".

2007-03-12T19:04:00.000-07:00

Dawn, March 8, 2007

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Schoolhouse renovation, Week 2

2007-03-06T14:25:00.000-08:00

Renovations on the School House Begin

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Weekend's Conclusion

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HVA students Kyly Bauer and Laura Boyer visit at Rest Assured

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Fearless Factor Challenge #2

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Sabbath morning, negative 2 degrees Fahrenheit

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The next generation's guitar man and song leader

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The weekend begins with a hike up the hill, the last 1/4 mile of the road is drifted shut.

2007-01-30T17:34:00.001-08:00

In mid-December, 2006 I received a call from Mary Jo Penner, a friend I’d known in college, inviting me to join her and her husband, Greg, for a two week trip to Harare, Zimbabwe. The purpose of the trip would be to provide volunteer services at Newstart Children’s Home. This charitable organization was founded by Mary’s parents, Saleem and Grace Farag six years ago and now provides a home for fifty children aged 7 to 18 who have lost both of their parents due to AIDs. I have read about the havoc that AIDs is causing in the sub-saharan countries of Africa and saw this as an opportunity to experience it personally.
One in five people in Zimbabwe has AIDS. One fourth (four million) of the population of Zimbabwe has died in the past five years. There are 1,200,000 children in Zimbabwe who have lost both of their parents to AIDs. Though rich in agricultural lands and natural resources, Zimbabwe’s economy is in shambles. The suffering of Harare was apparent in decaying buildings, parking lots full of rusting buses, closed shops and empty petrol stations. Food staples are only intermittently available in the markets. I was largely isolated from this because with the exception of two trips to the countryside, I spent the entire two weeks on the 25 acre campus of the children’s home.
Greg Penner, an otolaryngologist, and I spent the entire time building cabinets. A shipment of used cabinet doors had previously been delivered to the home. It was our job to sort through the doors, find matching sets and then build appropriately sized plywood boxes to hang the doors on. We built base and wall cabinets for a laundry in the nursery and for a medical clinic laboratory. For tools we had a drill press and a home made table saw in addition to assorted hand tools. The children, like children anywhere, were friendly, helpful, playful and curious.
For two weeks, I slept well, answered no phone calls, voice mails or text messages. I sat down with friends and enjoyed meals together. Each evening at dusk we closed the day while the children sang beautifully in their Shona language.
I did not find any answers during my stay in Zimbabwe, but I think I have a little better idea of what the questions are. I would go again in a heartbeat. Thanks to my wife, Elizabeth, and my colleagues, Dr. Brooke-Huffman and Dr. Kuttner-Sands without whose help and support I would not have been able to go.

2007-01-30T17:23:00.000-08:00

Another spot where "Big Sky Country" is appropriate.

2007-01-30T17:21:00.000-08:00

Mother and child, up close

2007-01-30T17:16:00.000-08:00

Deanna and Julie in the new nursery.

2007-01-30T17:14:00.000-08:00

Ayesha helping install cabinet hardware.

2007-01-30T17:11:00.000-08:00

Roland Walleski, a wonderful physician from Germany