I arrive on the B ward for an afternoon shift. The day and evening nurses stand in a circle to pray for the coming shift. If we are lucky, one of the day crew (hired locals/interpreters) will pray a big sweeping thank-you-JESUS prayer.
We start handover of patients with the day nurses before they take a few patients up to fresh air on Deck 7 for the last hour of their shift. After half the patients leave, a quiet settles on the ward. Some kids fall asleep. Most of the parents are already asleep. A stray toddler or 2 might be roaming for trouble. I start a game of cards with one of the teens, but both hands are splinted so I play both hands (after multiple explanations to me by the interpreter of the rules of this particular game).
The rest of the ward returns and chaos ensues. A good chaos. Mamas are awake and chatting animatedly with each other. Babies are crying or nursing or crawling around. Teens are getting glassy-eyed with boredom. Kids start complaining of pain and I pass pills. The medications to give are Tylenol and ibuprofen, morphine for the recent post-ops. More people drift in and out of the wards...doctors, anesthetists, nurses, patients from A ward (general surgery and B ward overflow), physical therapists, chaplains, visitors, crew, day crew, the list seems endless sometimes!
At least once during a shift, I have a moment of reaction. Panic is rising like the heat and stench. It's so loud! Its so crowded! I can't handle this! I can't fit between the beds. I want to hold that baby but he's been crawling on this nasty floor all day. Why can't day crew speak better English!?! I'm so tired of repeating myself and re-explaining a simple message! I just want to have a normal conversation with this person!
The panic subsides in a few seconds with a deep breath. Move on. You can do this. You are already doing this.
I spend the next 20 minutes learning how to tell time in French by one of the day crew. He makes me count "one o'clock" to "2400 hours" in French over and over until I told him my head was going to explode. He laughed uneasily. Maybe that doesn't translate well...
Time for dinner. Everyone gets a squirt of hand sanitizer and a bowl of Beninese maize and meat. I spoon feed my girl with bilateral hand splints. I wouldn't normally enjoy feeding a grown woman, but her bed is right next to the cutest 3 year old you've ever seen. Faith and her sister entertained me between bites. The 5 year old sister can can count to 10 in English and practiced with me. I attempted to recall the French numbers I'd just learned and she helped me. :)
Later in the evening around 7 pm, we have a visitor from A ward, Miracle (2 years old)! (But I learned that he pronounces his name "Meer-rock.") When he's in a good mood, he wants to be held and flashes everyone a big toothy smile. I took him on a walk in the hall way and he points to the pictures of the nurses and day crew hanging in the hall way. He jabbers on, pointing to one then another and back again. The hallway is a hundred degrees cooler than the ward so I'd stay out there as long as he wanted.
Bed time starts at 9 pm. The lights go off and curtains are pulled around the beds. There are a few rebels who are resistant, but we say "Bonne nuit" and turn our backs. I wouldn't mind rocking a few babes to sleep at this point in the day.