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Authors: Britta Das
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Lhamo for treatment. Confused, I ask if they do not have a wheelchair. Pema explains that Lhamo’s mother is used to carrying her daughter, and it really is no problem.
‘Of course this is a problem,’ I think, but for now I keep my thoughts to myself and take out an assessment sheet.
Pema pulls up a stool beside me. The main goal of
my stay in Mongar is to teach Pema as many of my
physiotherapy skills as possible. Through her training as an assistant, she already has some basic knowledge of anatomy as well as physiology, but her treatments are solely based on a cookbook approach of using a diagnosis made by the doctors as her prescription. During my year in Mongar, I will try to help her become more independent in assessing and treating patients. For the first week, we have agreed that she will act as a translator and watch what I do.
My pen and paper poised, I am ready to take Lhamo’s history. Lhamo’s mother, however, is not. In an
uninterrupted torrent of words, she talks to Pema in Sharchhopkha. When she finally finishes, I ask Pema the meaning of her outburst.
‘She wants to know will Lhamo walk again.’
A little exasperated, I ask what else she said.
‘Nothing,’ Pema replies and turns back to Lhamo.
Over the better part of an hour, we patch together Lhamo’s history. Lhamo’s family comes from the district of Trashi Yangtse, from a small village two days’ walk from the main road. Like most villagers, her family has lived on the same farm for generations and produces a small crop on a bit of land. Lhamo herself has never attended school.
According to her mother, five or six years ago Lhamo fell over a pot of boiling water and burned the back of her left leg. It healed, but since then, she has had a severe scar from 59
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the buttock right down to below her knee. One year ago, a knife injury damaged her right knee, and now it is stuck in its present position and hurts.
The details and dates of this story vary from what the nurses had told me, and on further repeated questioning of Lhamo’s mother, the injuries now range anywhere from eight years ago for the left leg, and three years to a few months back for the right. It seems pointless to harp on a detail that obviously does not hold priority in their lives, and we move on, marking the category ‘Time of onset of injury’ with a big question mark.
What does become apparent, though, is that this second injury has caused much hardship for Lhamo and her family.
Since the trauma, Lhamo has not stood or walked. Confined to her bed all day, Lhamo is carried outside by her mother only to urinate or defecate, or at the odd time, to have a wash.
They have tried several ‘treatments’. The village lama has come to hold many a religious ceremony called a puja. Her family has prayed and made offerings for a quick recovery.
No result. They brought her to the hospital, and the surgeon at the time tried to lengthen her burn scar to allow the leg to extend completely, thereby making weightbearing possible. No help. Different doctors subsequently tried the same operation. Unfortunately, the resulting fibrosis and immobility in bed only made her stiffer and, in the end, the leg seemed the same. A team of Australian plastic surgeons came for a visit, but they too shook their heads in regret.
There was nothing to be done.
Between every bit of revealed information, Lhamo’s mother asks me if I can fix her daughter. Gently, I tell her that I will try my best. Mom is not satisfied. In her eyes I am a foreign doctor, therefore ordained with a lot of knowledge and ability. I have to cure her daughter.
I ask Pema to coax some answers out of Lhamo, but the girl only stares at us. Her look is frightened and distrustful.
60
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‘Of course this is a problem,’ I think, but for now I keep my thoughts to myself and take out an assessment sheet.
Pema pulls up a stool beside me. The main goal of
my stay in Mongar is to teach Pema as many of my
physiotherapy skills as possible. Through her training as an assistant, she already has some basic knowledge of anatomy as well as physiology, but her treatments are solely based on a cookbook approach of using a diagnosis made by the doctors as her prescription. During my year in Mongar, I will try to help her become more independent in assessing and treating patients. For the first week, we have agreed that she will act as a translator and watch what I do.
My pen and paper poised, I am ready to take Lhamo’s history. Lhamo’s mother, however, is not. In an
uninterrupted torrent of words, she talks to Pema in Sharchhopkha. When she finally finishes, I ask Pema the meaning of her outburst.
‘She wants to know will Lhamo walk again.’
A little exasperated, I ask what else she said.
‘Nothing,’ Pema replies and turns back to Lhamo.
Over the better part of an hour, we patch together Lhamo’s history. Lhamo’s family comes from the district of Trashi Yangtse, from a small village two days’ walk from the main road. Like most villagers, her family has lived on the same farm for generations and produces a small crop on a bit of land. Lhamo herself has never attended school.
According to her mother, five or six years ago Lhamo fell over a pot of boiling water and burned the back of her left leg. It healed, but since then, she has had a severe scar from 59
Buttertea at Sunrise_PROOF.indd 59
Buttertea at Sunrise_PROOF.indd 59
13/01/2006 14:59:11
13/01/2006 14:59:11
B U T T E R T E A A T S U N R I S E
the buttock right down to below her knee. One year ago, a knife injury damaged her right knee, and now it is stuck in its present position and hurts.
The details and dates of this story vary from what the nurses had told me, and on further repeated questioning of Lhamo’s mother, the injuries now range anywhere from eight years ago for the left leg, and three years to a few months back for the right. It seems pointless to harp on a detail that obviously does not hold priority in their lives, and we move on, marking the category ‘Time of onset of injury’ with a big question mark.
What does become apparent, though, is that this second injury has caused much hardship for Lhamo and her family.
Since the trauma, Lhamo has not stood or walked. Confined to her bed all day, Lhamo is carried outside by her mother only to urinate or defecate, or at the odd time, to have a wash.
They have tried several ‘treatments’. The village lama has come to hold many a religious ceremony called a puja. Her family has prayed and made offerings for a quick recovery.
No result. They brought her to the hospital, and the surgeon at the time tried to lengthen her burn scar to allow the leg to extend completely, thereby making weightbearing possible. No help. Different doctors subsequently tried the same operation. Unfortunately, the resulting fibrosis and immobility in bed only made her stiffer and, in the end, the leg seemed the same. A team of Australian plastic surgeons came for a visit, but they too shook their heads in regret.
There was nothing to be done.
Between every bit of revealed information, Lhamo’s mother asks me if I can fix her daughter. Gently, I tell her that I will try my best. Mom is not satisfied. In her eyes I am a foreign doctor, therefore ordained with a lot of knowledge and ability. I have to cure her daughter.
I ask Pema to coax some answers out of Lhamo, but the girl only stares at us. Her look is frightened and distrustful.
60
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Buttertea at Sunrise_PROOF.indd 60
13/01/2006
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