Excuse Me, Who Are You?

I was standing next to the bed of a woman in labour with her fourth. With transition hitting her like a freight train and my struggle to help her gain composure, you can imagine how startling it was to hear the booming voice from the outer hallway drawing closer and closer and an unknown man throwing back the thin curtain. He stepped up next to the bed. Dressed in street clothes, he was thin and stooped and had a crazy-long nose hair that I couldn't take my eyes off of.

"I'm the chief surgeon here! *bellowing laugh* I've been working in the hospital since 1977!" His wrinkles confirmed this.

He reached out to shake my hand but I was wearing gloves so he quickly clenched his hand and went for a fist bump. Usually, when one or more of us are wearing gloves, we greet each other with a little touch of our elbows. His gesture caught me off guard. He laughed and talked loudly with us and the midwives but never acknowledged the mama. I was very conscious of her, writhing on the bed, moaning in pain, listening to us make small talk. If she gave us the stink eye (deservedly), I missed it. I was staring at that nose hair.

Soon a midwife stepped into the curtained area to check on mama. The surgeon immediately reached out and fist-bumped her! I was getting a kick out of his use of the gesture that seemed so out of place in this culture! When he left, I audibly let out a sigh. Between the volume of his voice, the surprise of his visit, and that rogue hair, I hadn't realized that I was holding my breath. 

I've learned not to make assumptions about the roles of those I come in contact with in the hospital. Some of the roughest looking individuals are doctors and administrators. That clean, clipped, shaven, washed, buttoned-up look of 1st-world medicine does not exist here. Flip-flops are standard footwear and the classic, colorfully woven bag, carried by everyone in this country, is slung cross-body by almost every doctor while they are making their rounds.

In contrast, the midwives wear white skirts or dresses and white sweaters. Can you imagine a more inconvenient color to wear when dealing with bodily fluids?? They too wear open-toed sandals, sometimes with socks. They tuck pens, thermometers and other essentials into their course, teased hair. And they often carry themselves with more authority and show more leadership in patient care than the doctors.

When I work in the ward, I wear a mid-length skirt and a long, baggy, traditional blouse with sleeves. It hides any indication that I have feminine curves of any kind and really just makes me look like a tent with legs. It's super comfy, super modest, and super unattractive. The bonus is that the blouse is made from two yards of material and is handy for wiping up small spills and snotty noses. But it's also one more way to show love and respect to the women I'm working with. I'm already such a spectacle; to wear culturally appropriate clothing helps put the mamas at ease.

With so many professionals wearing such casual attire, I just observe and listen until I know who they are before approaching and introducing myself. Thankfully, I've never made a fool of myself and offered a doctor a back rub, a cup of milo or started humming How Great Thou Art. Can you imagine? I'm blushing just picturing such a ridiculous faux pas. I'm not sure I could recover from that kind of embarrassment.