Ke Garne, It's year 2069!

'Ke Garne,' 

the infamous nepali phrase I will never forget,

'What to do?'

I can't begin to tell you the different sentences from our patients that often precede this simple phrase. Long drawn out, and horribly painful stories of unjust situations, told by women crying about being beaten by their husbands. Or about losing a loved one unexpectedly. Or having a terminal illness. The stories here are incredibly hard to hear and as a practitioner you sit and listen wondering what you can possibly say to console this individual. How to find the right words for someone who lives words away from your own reality back home. Right when you realize there's been a gap and a response from you is now appropriate, the patient will throw their hands up lightheartedly and say "ke garne." Your translater will then throw their arms up lightheartedly, mimicking the patient, and say "what to do."
Whew! Another impossible moment averted thanks to a simple phrase. One of my favorite people in the world pointed out how it makes perfect sense that the people of Nepal have adopted such a saying. Due to the history and conditions of this country, what else is there to say really? 

It is the year 2069, after all! Many of us joke that this experience is a little glimpse into what our western world may be like in the year 2069. A post-apocalyptic, ravaged country with power shortages, pollution build up leading to burning trash in the streets, smog filled skies, lines for local water, overpopulated and chaotic busy cities overcome with critters and stray ragged dogs, a farming culture for survival and religion. If the 'west' were to continue in the same trajectory, I don't believe our little group joke is totally out of the question. 


Some lasting images embedded in my mind:

 finding goods at the local dump

 basic means to eating

 washing clothing

 toilet

 water lines

 firewood 

critters picking through trash

KE GARNE

Special Moments

(me and sunita, an amazing interpreter)

I don’t know that i will ever come back, is the thing. But, how do I say that to my patient who is welling up with tears about my departure? 

This last week has been hard, because I cant put off the fact that our camp is leaving and less than half the amount of practitioners are coming in our place. Some of my patients wont be able to continue treatment. About half of the patients we see have been coming for a while... They know now how the system works and that we have to go. The other half have started new with us. We took their intakes on the first day and have seen them every time since. Many of these patients have had significant relief from pains or problems that have plagued them for years. Often decades. Sometimes we are the only doctors they have ever seen! So, to hear we are leaving is very, very sad for some.  

On our end, theres an infinite list of reasons why we are all looking forward to getting out of Nepal. Rolling blackouts, sharing rooms, (very) polluted air quality, parasites, infections, no hot water, lack of toilet paper, nothing but lentils and rice.... really, I could go on. Though as soon as 9am hits and a group of familiar faces shuffle into the treatment room, I forget about leaving. Leathery weathered hands clasp together, greeting me with 'Namaste' and friendly shinning eyes, hopeful. So hopeful. Between 9am-4pm I forget all the unpleasantries about this country. In fact, during these hours of the day I don’t want to leave at all. How could I?

Today a patient Ive been seeing since the beginning, gave me a bracelet she made. She then dragged me outside in front of the clinic to take a picture with her phone. When we were outside she told me in broken english “you very good doctor, I will miss you.” Its the first gift Ive received from a patient, ever. She wanted to know if I would think of her when I go back to my home country. 

I will think of her forever. She represents to me an understanding of what i’m doing as a practitioner. The bracelet I now wear around my wrist, I wear with pride. I feel proud today for being a part of this incredible gift of bringing health care to some in need.  

(patient at our satellite clinic, Champe)