Simple Umbilical Cord Cutting Tool to Overcome Infection in Third World
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Saturday, September 19, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
A New Life in New Haven
Hi all! I know it's been a long time since I last posted, but isn't it always? I will try to describe my first few weeks at the Yale School of Nursing (YSN) in New Haven, CT as a graduate-entry student in nursing (a.k.a. 'GEPN') . You may remember that I am enrolled in the midwifery specialty, but this year is spent achieving an RN licensure. Then, I move to my specialty training to achieve competence an advanced practice nurse in midwifery, achieve licensure as such and complete a Masters in Nursing Science.
This evening is the night before my first big exam, in the class which haunts GEPN students - 'Medical-Surgical Nursing.' As I've done all I believe possible to prepare, at this point I chose to reflect on the past weeks since I arrived in New Haven on August 24th. I remember my first visit to Yale in June; I admit the sight of the building, in its concrete brutalism glory, on the other side of the highway from the main Yale campus, actually brought tears of disappointment. At this point, I realize that I was still in culture shock and the reaction was mainly insecurity over closing my service early.
Today, I arrive at the YSN building excited to see my colleagues, who continue to impress me with their sincerity, integrity and intellectual excellence, and proud to be learning from gifted people like Linda Pellico. YSN formally announced and welcomed Holly Kennedy to campus this week and I felt the tug of tears again-this time in relief- when I remember fully the serendipity in which I chose to come to YSN sight unseen, after meeting Angie Chambers and Jessica, a then-student, now alum of this program. I am so proud of my association with this program and appreciate New Haven every morning when I see the view from my place (also rented unseen). I know, I'm emo-Claudette.
Jessica was doing a research project on the other side of the island on Haitian women who experience pica during pregnancy. Benjamin and I were living the Peace Corps Volunteer life, 'the hardest job you'll ever love' and the hard part was over - we were acculturated and 'over' America as much as one can be. I had been cultivating a service in which my primary project, a collective of coffee farmers turned into my professional goal, and helping women be happy, healthy and valued was my joy. I think in that moment I 'got the call' to be a midwife, but I didn't know that word yet.
Jessica and I connected over email and something told me to go see her. I happened to visit on the weekend her faculty advisers came to visit her project. I won't often speak of my faith, but I would be remiss in failing to credit powers larger than I for my, having every reason not to take a bus for 14 hours, decided to do so on a hunch that it might be 'interesting.' Of course, Ben urged me to go and wandered around La Romana eating pica pollo while I ate in a restaurant.
By the time my visit with these three midwives was over, I knew I had been called home, but I was apprehensive - who stops on a dime like that anyway? I went through the rigmarole of application but I was nervous. Even up to my first day of school, I wasn't sure - and now I couldn't be more so! I am so lucky!
Orientation was boring, but there were a few notable happenings:
In addition, I went to college a long time ago and it's been 10 years plus since I took physics, biology and chemistry. I love my classes but I am a disaster trying to keep up. Meaning I often sit with all my textbooks open around me, my notes and wikipedia on the computer - and I'm still lost. I have been fortunate to be taken in by a few generous people who tutor me and (status post) I passed the first exam (that I mentioned up top of this post).
This evening is the night before my first big exam, in the class which haunts GEPN students - 'Medical-Surgical Nursing.' As I've done all I believe possible to prepare, at this point I chose to reflect on the past weeks since I arrived in New Haven on August 24th. I remember my first visit to Yale in June; I admit the sight of the building, in its concrete brutalism glory, on the other side of the highway from the main Yale campus, actually brought tears of disappointment. At this point, I realize that I was still in culture shock and the reaction was mainly insecurity over closing my service early.
Today, I arrive at the YSN building excited to see my colleagues, who continue to impress me with their sincerity, integrity and intellectual excellence, and proud to be learning from gifted people like Linda Pellico. YSN formally announced and welcomed Holly Kennedy to campus this week and I felt the tug of tears again-this time in relief- when I remember fully the serendipity in which I chose to come to YSN sight unseen, after meeting Angie Chambers and Jessica, a then-student, now alum of this program. I am so proud of my association with this program and appreciate New Haven every morning when I see the view from my place (also rented unseen). I know, I'm emo-Claudette.
Jessica was doing a research project on the other side of the island on Haitian women who experience pica during pregnancy. Benjamin and I were living the Peace Corps Volunteer life, 'the hardest job you'll ever love' and the hard part was over - we were acculturated and 'over' America as much as one can be. I had been cultivating a service in which my primary project, a collective of coffee farmers turned into my professional goal, and helping women be happy, healthy and valued was my joy. I think in that moment I 'got the call' to be a midwife, but I didn't know that word yet.
Jessica and I connected over email and something told me to go see her. I happened to visit on the weekend her faculty advisers came to visit her project. I won't often speak of my faith, but I would be remiss in failing to credit powers larger than I for my, having every reason not to take a bus for 14 hours, decided to do so on a hunch that it might be 'interesting.' Of course, Ben urged me to go and wandered around La Romana eating pica pollo while I ate in a restaurant.
By the time my visit with these three midwives was over, I knew I had been called home, but I was apprehensive - who stops on a dime like that anyway? I went through the rigmarole of application but I was nervous. Even up to my first day of school, I wasn't sure - and now I couldn't be more so! I am so lucky!
Orientation was boring, but there were a few notable happenings:
- I met person after person whom for whom I have strong good instincts, many of them my colleagues in midwifery. My class size is 87 and the midwifery specialty claims 14 of those.
- The YSN has been open since 1923 and has struggled to garner support from the University during it's down cycles. I'm sure you can imagine that nurses can't donate on par with law and medicine graduates even though nurses are entrusted with the well-being of clientele everywhere they serve. It's only through the commitment of the alumni, students, faculty, and several clever deans that it's remained open continuously. I think Yale is probably pretty happy it stood by YSN during the lean years with the current status of health care in our country.
- I realized New Haven is a beautiful and special place to live. Of course, what's not to like about the grad student life? I would be some kinda jerk if I didn't admit that it's a privilege priceless to have access to hot water, food, loans, the finest education system in human history and sealed living structures with running water all at once.
- I'm way in over my head here, academically.
In addition, I went to college a long time ago and it's been 10 years plus since I took physics, biology and chemistry. I love my classes but I am a disaster trying to keep up. Meaning I often sit with all my textbooks open around me, my notes and wikipedia on the computer - and I'm still lost. I have been fortunate to be taken in by a few generous people who tutor me and (status post) I passed the first exam (that I mentioned up top of this post).
Thursday, July 9, 2009
DR 'duh' moment
I just got in the shower and scrubbed my underwear because my brain turned off, and my auto-pilot is still in Dominican.
Advice from Dad
Thanks, guys. In the past few months since I've left Peace Corps a few people have asked me why I stopped blogging. I thought that without the American-abroad circumstance, there wasn't a need. But, I love to write and if just one person wants to read - I'll keep it up!
I talked to my Dad this morning. He loves to chat, and he has chat 'modes.' One mode is when he tells a story about how the world is. These are often long stories, relaying his take on a broad human topic, like how good it is that doñas cook or how kind he found my DR neighbors. (True, they are pretty nice). Other times, he likes to give advice. This used to irk me, and now that I'm old enough that I give young'ns unsolicited advice, Dad's doing so seems righteous.
What's great about my Dad's advice is his uncanny ability to make statements that are good measures of most decisions. Today we were talking about my need for furniture in a new apartment. I have so much beautiful furniture in sunny California, but, alas, I am setting up an apartment in green New Haven, CT. Dad says he want to drive our furniture out! I know, he's a dear man. I say, 'Dad, just let me handle this with second-hand furniture from Craigslist and whatnot. It doesn't really matter who will win (Dad likes to debate all topics for weeks, sometimes months), but here are a few of his sage remarks.
'Claudette, the problems really start when you lack imagination. Don't forget that just 5 variables leads to a factorial of 120 solutions. All problems are limited only by your ability to imagine new potential solutions.'
'Claudette, we're not capitalists, but we do conserve capital.'
and my favorite: 'Claudette, don't be dogmatic.'
I talked to my Dad this morning. He loves to chat, and he has chat 'modes.' One mode is when he tells a story about how the world is. These are often long stories, relaying his take on a broad human topic, like how good it is that doñas cook or how kind he found my DR neighbors. (True, they are pretty nice). Other times, he likes to give advice. This used to irk me, and now that I'm old enough that I give young'ns unsolicited advice, Dad's doing so seems righteous.
What's great about my Dad's advice is his uncanny ability to make statements that are good measures of most decisions. Today we were talking about my need for furniture in a new apartment. I have so much beautiful furniture in sunny California, but, alas, I am setting up an apartment in green New Haven, CT. Dad says he want to drive our furniture out! I know, he's a dear man. I say, 'Dad, just let me handle this with second-hand furniture from Craigslist and whatnot. It doesn't really matter who will win (Dad likes to debate all topics for weeks, sometimes months), but here are a few of his sage remarks.
'Claudette, the problems really start when you lack imagination. Don't forget that just 5 variables leads to a factorial of 120 solutions. All problems are limited only by your ability to imagine new potential solutions.'
'Claudette, we're not capitalists, but we do conserve capital.'
and my favorite: 'Claudette, don't be dogmatic.'
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Hello, East Coast
I've been back in the States for two weeks now. The showers are great! I can't complain about a thing. I love the sky. To me, it looks thin and high. The sky in the DR was close and heavy, like wet, glistening wool. I am so lucky to be from Los Angeles. The first place I went on the way home was New York. My heart kept stumbling over all the wonders on a Park Slope boulevard: stand alone, planned trees, single elegant electric wires like jump rope up above the trees, large smooth concrete slabs to make up a sidewalk. Red brick walk-ups against a grey sky. I felt like telling people 'I'm an American, but I'm new here' because it's just fascinating how darling the city looks.
We flew to Burbank, and that was like going from fairytale to perfection. That golden light the Santa Monica mountains give off, has it always been like that? My house in Burbank, has it always been so cool and quiet inside? My parents bought a couch while I was gone, and the luxury of sitting in it made me feel like I was on vacation. One day, I turned on the shower and no hot water came out. So I'm bathing, thinking, hey, I still know how to take a cold one! As I toweled off, I realized I had just forgotten to turn the hot water on. Apparently, my brain don't remember how to do that so much unless I focus on it. I giggled, remembering Arelis. She says hot water damages your hair, and if you want shiny, you want cold. I think about my Dominican family and friends often' their voices ring like pretty wind chimes a few feet behind me in the breeze.
I stay out of stores, stay away from magazines. I think my favorite moment of the whole two weeks was when my niece fell asleep on my lap during a movie. I have always been a very family oriented person, but my service made that bigger. It's just a DR thing, family is all we thought about, planned for, worked on. (Unless you were a drunk unemployed man, but that's another story). Being around people who spent all day talking about their kids, their parents, their siblings made me wonder more than anything 'what am I doing here? My parents don't live here.' Arelis would always ask about my family. What an embarrassment if I didn't have an update. The stores and magazines send little culture shock waves through me, too, but a girl can only handle so many culture shock waves per day, so I pare it down to the amazing American skylines and cityscapes.
Like I said on Facebook, I saw the LA skyline and it brought me joy. Do I miss the DR?
I miss it a lot. I like Los Angeles for so many selfish reasons, like the city is so clean and the sad things are sectioned off, where I am in control of how much exposure to them I get. My family here is much richer than my family there. As a PCV, I lived in relative poverty and worked with the effects of poverty almost exclusively. A vacation from from that sort of problem solving is rest for my psyche.
We flew to Burbank, and that was like going from fairytale to perfection. That golden light the Santa Monica mountains give off, has it always been like that? My house in Burbank, has it always been so cool and quiet inside? My parents bought a couch while I was gone, and the luxury of sitting in it made me feel like I was on vacation. One day, I turned on the shower and no hot water came out. So I'm bathing, thinking, hey, I still know how to take a cold one! As I toweled off, I realized I had just forgotten to turn the hot water on. Apparently, my brain don't remember how to do that so much unless I focus on it. I giggled, remembering Arelis. She says hot water damages your hair, and if you want shiny, you want cold. I think about my Dominican family and friends often' their voices ring like pretty wind chimes a few feet behind me in the breeze.
I stay out of stores, stay away from magazines. I think my favorite moment of the whole two weeks was when my niece fell asleep on my lap during a movie. I have always been a very family oriented person, but my service made that bigger. It's just a DR thing, family is all we thought about, planned for, worked on. (Unless you were a drunk unemployed man, but that's another story). Being around people who spent all day talking about their kids, their parents, their siblings made me wonder more than anything 'what am I doing here? My parents don't live here.' Arelis would always ask about my family. What an embarrassment if I didn't have an update. The stores and magazines send little culture shock waves through me, too, but a girl can only handle so many culture shock waves per day, so I pare it down to the amazing American skylines and cityscapes.
Like I said on Facebook, I saw the LA skyline and it brought me joy. Do I miss the DR?
I miss it a lot. I like Los Angeles for so many selfish reasons, like the city is so clean and the sad things are sectioned off, where I am in control of how much exposure to them I get. My family here is much richer than my family there. As a PCV, I lived in relative poverty and worked with the effects of poverty almost exclusively. A vacation from from that sort of problem solving is rest for my psyche.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
COS means Close of Service
I write to you today from the United States of America, specifically from Burbank. I am so happy to report that Ben and I closed our service on May 5, 2009. We are so proud of our work and also ecstatic to be home enjoying our family.
We had a great last month in country. My parents came and there was a huge farewell party where Ben, Dylan and I made a dozen pizzas in our earth oven for the kids. There was 10 lbs of moro for 25 people and 7 roasted chickens. Our PC colleagues were supportive and tender as we said our goodbyes. Leaving Los Dajaos was hard on both of us - service is hard won - and it was extremely painful to give it all up.
Still, it is the right choice. I already miss the hugs and cleaning the beans, the expectation that Ben and I would be together at all times (Columbia kicked me out of an orientation I tried to attend with Ben. The nerve! A Dominican would never do that. The culture shock of it all), the greeting people on public transit. Luckily we had some talkative cabbies in New York, because before that happened, New York was feeling kinda icy. I miss my house. I'm pretty sure my Peace Corps house will always be the nicest house I ever lived in; a tie right up there with my house in Burbank.
Still, it was the right choice to leave. Even though the colleagues exceeded my highest expectations of heart and productivity so often and even though I could get a blow out for $3 or a pineapple for $1.40. It's time to get my career on; it's time to get healthy again. And from what I hear, lots of Dominicans in Connecticut to make me feel at home.
Moving forward, Ben and I are back in America, starting grad school, and wow, living in America again. I couldn't be happier with how Peace Corps turned out, how it's changed my life, or how I performed as a volunteer. If you've considered a tour, too: go for it. And stay, stay, stay. The hardest part is staying, forcing that growth. It is worth it.
I'm going to try to keep this blog up as I start nursing school in August and Ben starts his premed post-bac. My family looks great, a great relief to me. With so long not seeing them or my house, I was driving myself insane worrying. We'll be here for two weeks and then we'll be heading East. If you have any recommendations on how to live through winter, like what kind of coat I should acquire, please tell - I am already nervous about being the So Cal girl in Connecticut. I'm prepared for the lack of all things Mexican, but not for the sleet and snow.
We had a great last month in country. My parents came and there was a huge farewell party where Ben, Dylan and I made a dozen pizzas in our earth oven for the kids. There was 10 lbs of moro for 25 people and 7 roasted chickens. Our PC colleagues were supportive and tender as we said our goodbyes. Leaving Los Dajaos was hard on both of us - service is hard won - and it was extremely painful to give it all up.
Still, it is the right choice. I already miss the hugs and cleaning the beans, the expectation that Ben and I would be together at all times (Columbia kicked me out of an orientation I tried to attend with Ben. The nerve! A Dominican would never do that. The culture shock of it all), the greeting people on public transit. Luckily we had some talkative cabbies in New York, because before that happened, New York was feeling kinda icy. I miss my house. I'm pretty sure my Peace Corps house will always be the nicest house I ever lived in; a tie right up there with my house in Burbank.
Still, it was the right choice to leave. Even though the colleagues exceeded my highest expectations of heart and productivity so often and even though I could get a blow out for $3 or a pineapple for $1.40. It's time to get my career on; it's time to get healthy again. And from what I hear, lots of Dominicans in Connecticut to make me feel at home.
Moving forward, Ben and I are back in America, starting grad school, and wow, living in America again. I couldn't be happier with how Peace Corps turned out, how it's changed my life, or how I performed as a volunteer. If you've considered a tour, too: go for it. And stay, stay, stay. The hardest part is staying, forcing that growth. It is worth it.
I'm going to try to keep this blog up as I start nursing school in August and Ben starts his premed post-bac. My family looks great, a great relief to me. With so long not seeing them or my house, I was driving myself insane worrying. We'll be here for two weeks and then we'll be heading East. If you have any recommendations on how to live through winter, like what kind of coat I should acquire, please tell - I am already nervous about being the So Cal girl in Connecticut. I'm prepared for the lack of all things Mexican, but not for the sleet and snow.
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