As most of you will know, I spent most of November visiting my old roomie, Christina Gagnon, at her new home on the mission station in the middle of nowhere, otherwise known as Chitokoloki, in the Northwest province of Zambia. I had a lot of very interesting experiences there which I will summarize in the next post, but this one evening’s experiences deserves its own post.
This is Christina Gagnon.
Or, at least, this is who
I thought of as Christina Gagnon. Sure, she’s standing in the middle of a little house in the middle of Africa outfitted in the latest Chitokoloki fashion, but she’s still the Christina Gagnon I’ve come to know rather well since 2009. “Quiet”, mild-mannered, northern Ontario Clark Kent…ahem, I mean Christina Gagnon.
Our adventure takes place about the fifth or sixth night that I spent with Christina in her cute little home, by which point I had succeeded in thoroughly addicting most of the mission station to
Downton Abbey by bringing along all eight episodes of season four with me.
To me, that Tuesday evening seemed like any other Tuesday evening that one would expect to spend in the middle of Africa…
Our cast of main characters consisted of one Canadian nurse (the Heroine of our story), two Northern Irish nurses, myself, and Felix, the Australian second year medical student dude who was just cycling through Africa one day several weeks ago when he happened upon the mission station in the middle of nowhere and was invited to pitch in for random surgeries for the next several weeks…
Like I said, just like any other regular Tuesday in the middle of Africa.
Its about 10 o’clock at night and we’re all crowded around my tiny laptop which is sitting on a coffee table in Christina’s house, we’re all riveted to episode 3 of season 4 of
Downton Abbey. We just get to the extremely shocking part (for those
Downton Abbey fans reading this from North America, you’ll know exactly what I mean when the season comes out in January!) when Irish Nurse 1 gets a call on the batphone letting her know that Ms. Tiny 17-year-old in the maternity ward will be needing a c-section tonight.
Given the incredibly dramatic point at which we are at in our episode of
Downton Abbey, everyone seems a little reluctant to jump into action right away so it is decided by an overwhelming majority vote that we should watch the last 2.5 minutes of the show. But immediately after that I am instantly transported into a Justice League comic strip -- African Edition.
Irish Nurses 1 and 2 along with Australian Cyclist/Medical Student grab their things and saunter purposefully out the front door and into the pitch black Zambian night. We hear Irish Nurse 1 leap onto her four-wheeler, it roars to life and she’s off. Irish Nurse 2 and Australian Cyclist/Medical Student walk together down the left path towards the scene of the crim… I mean the hospital. Meanwhile, I am totally bewildered, kinda like those extras in the Matrix who are frozen in time while the main characters do all the cool stuff that the extras never see. I glance to my left and Christina has apparently already been in and out of the phone booth or the batcave or wherever because she’s already completely unrecognizable having donned her superhero scrubs. I hardly have time to utter a word before we’re off into the night. She also adopts a purposeful stride as we walk down the path to the right. Apparently all roads lead to the hospital.
Its pitch black outside so I use my iPhone camera flash as a torch to light the way since there are sometimes snakes in the path.
10 minutes later we’re at the hospital. I follow our Heroine around like a puppy as she gets ready to roll. She leads me into a room filled with multi-coloured scrubs and selects a nice magenta set for me with a little hat and decidedly non-matching crocs (which one must check before slipping into since postman spiders are sometimes found inside (see the following picture I took of a relatively small postman beside a toonie to fully comprehend the size of these things).
(Sorry Denise and Daena)
My crocs are, thankfully, postman free this evening.
The magenta pants are at least two sizes too small (I’m clearly an extra in this feature film!) but the magenta shirt is two sizes too large so it covers the pant problem up from everyone else’s view.
(this is the set of scrubs I wore a few days later, but you get the idea)
After changing without any finesse whatsoever, I notice that, like our Heroine, somehow all of the other cast of characters have, meanwhile, become caped crusaders as well.
I follow our Heroine back to the ward where I notice, in a complete daze, that she has truly become a completely different person. Like Superman's Kal-El, our Heroine’s mysterious super disguise seems to have given her an instant command of the situation and launched her from mild-mannered reporter in the background right into the thick of the action.
Our Heroine proceeds to set up the operating theatre while Ms. Tiny 17-year-old is brought in also looking quite bewildered. I find it comforting to know I’m not the only one.
Irish Nurse 1 points out to me which parts of the operating theatre I am, under no circumstances, to contaminate by touching with any part of my body, lest some of my non-superhero impurities should be transferred – essentially anything blue or green is off limits to me. Other than that, I am allowed to roam around the room so that I can get a good view of the action.
Irish Nurse 1 also shows me the extra tray of emergency supplies just in case an extra pair of hands is needed all of a sudden. She also tells me I can pick out an outfit for the new baby, dress it and keep it until the surgery is over if I like. I feel like Robin, always there just in case -- he can handle the minor bad guys and is good for a supportive “Biff!” here and there, but everyone hopes Robin never has to actually save the day because while he may sorta look like he's part of the League to the untrained eye, in reality he has no clue what he's doing.
Irish Nurse 2 hands me a list of instruments to count with Zambian Scrub Nurse when he gets in. Notice I got promoted to “Circulating Nurse” at some point during my trip!
Then, just like Tuxedo Mask in an episode of Sailor Moon, out of nowhere a Chef mysteriously enters with great pomp and circumstance in a totally inexplicable costume.
He's otherwise known as Irish Doctor (he’s not "Doctor No. 1" because he’s the only doctor!)
Irish Doctor/Chef talks with Ms. Tiny 17-year-old in her local Lunda language, he then leads the entire Justice League in a prayer for the mother, the child, the team and the procedure we’re about to perform.
Meanwhile, Little Ms. Tiny 17-year-old has been stripped bare in preparation for her spinal injection and is trying, very much in vain, to regain some of her modesty by covering herself with her hands. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have enough hands to accomplish the task and the procedures she is undergoing are not conducive to modest poses. She glances at me from time to time, but I can only smile and look encouraging since I’m really just an extra, a side-kick at best, and I don’t speak her language.
Zambian Scrub Nurse does the instrument count with me and the next thing I know, they’ve started slicing her up. My mouth is constantly gaping open as I watch them reach cavalierly into the incision they’ve just made and literally wrench the flesh apart with their hands in order to widen it enough to reach the baby we’ve come to rescue.
Innards of all different colours, shapes and textures are on vibrant display.
They can see the head and they pull it out unceremoniously. The head gives absolutely no reaction whatsoever to this unexpected development. It is as if they have just pulled a shriveled doll’s head out of a messy sac.
As with any good superhero story, there is some trouble at the height of the action. They are having difficulty pulling the shoulders out because Little Ms. Tiny 17-year-old is so…well, tiny.
I notice that, like a good Tuxedo Mask, Irish Doctor/Chef offers seemingly random words of wisdom from time to time as the League continues to grapple with the task at hand.
While they’re working on it, the rest of us try to guess the gender of the baby based on the facial characteristics. Irish Nurse 1 tells me its my duty to announce the gender for the official record once the baby is out. My money is on ‘boy’.
They finally pull the baby out and I check and double check. And double check again. Seems to be a girl so that’s what I go with. Australian Cyclist/Medical Student and Irish Doctor/Chef take a second look and ask me if I’m sure, but then agree, yes indeed it’s a girl.
Irish Nurse 1 takes our baby Damsel in Distress over to a little table to make sure she’s alright. She has a little trouble getting a reaction out of the little Miss. Actually, Damsel is quite floppy and seems reluctant to cry, but once Irish Nurse 1 gets a few weak mewls out of her, she wipes her off and instructs me to shield my eyes from the threatened onslaught of birth fluids while she trims the umbilical cord. She shows the successfully rescued Damsel quickly to Ms. Tiny 17-year-old and then hands her back to me.
My moment has finally come, I have the important task of diapering, clothing, and cuddling this tiny Damsel and I have picked out the perfect pink knit pajamas to accomplish my mini-mission. I set to work.
I’ve never seen a baby anywhere near this young, let alone been left in charge of making one presentable. I feel like Robin’s identical twin Larry, who unbeknownst to the Justice League, went to law school rather than superhero training camp, and as a result has absolutely no clue. Tiny Damsel is so listless, not at all like how putting a diaper on my niece (Ella) was once she was old enough for Denise to let me try. But I manage. Its tough to get all the clothes on her but once she’s all bundled up and pretty, I get to sit on a stool beside Ms. Tiny 17-year-old so that she can see her little Damsel while Australian Cyclist/Medical Student sews her up.
I should point out at this point that there is a wild kitty loose in the operating theatre somewhere meowing constantly. Its been there for several days now, they can’t seem to get rid of it because its so quick and skittery.
The members of the Justice League don’t seem to mind the kitty’s distractions. However, as Australian Cyclist/Medical Student is starting to sew up the incision, the power goes out and we’re all thrown into pitch black for a few seconds. The lights come back on and go off again a few seconds later. Pitch black again.
Never fear, Robin’s here!
Yeah, that’s right, our Heroine hands me my trusty iPhone and I become the human overhead light with my camera flash/torch so that Australian Cyclist/Medical Student can finish his sutures. No word of a lie. By the light of my iPhone. I feel like I'm in a commercial for Apple.
Once all the drama is over and done with, I get to slip back into the background while the main characters clean up Ms. Tiny 17-year-old and tidy up the operating theatre. The instrument count is completed by yours truly…
And at some point, just like Tuxedo Mask, I notice that Irish Doctor/Chef has disappeared already, likely busy saving the day somewhere else now that the climax is over in our particular story.
The remaining League members roll Ms. Tiny 17-year-old back into the maternity ward while I march proudly behind them with my Damsel in arms. The relatives sitting in the dark corridor are told in Lunda that a woman child was born and they all murmur in what seems like general approval.
Our Heroine tells me I have to relinquish my Damsel to the maternity ward nurse which I am somewhat reluctant to do… but, I should have expected to have to give her up, since Robin never gets the girl.
Our Heroine whisks me back to the scrub room to change out of my clever magenta disguise. When I emerge from the room I see that everyone else in the League has returned to their alter egos. And before I know what’s what, they all slip off back into the Zambian night towards their respective lairs.
As Irish Nurse 1’s four-wheeler roars into life in the distance, I whip out my iPhone to light the way back home while contemplating the wonder of God’s creativity and the engineering of new life. It is at that moment that our Heroine suddenly turns to me and says in anguished tones,
“I
still can’t believe it! Its just so awful!”
I wrack my brains to try to figure out what I’m missing.
It takes me a moment.
Then I realise that she's talking about
Downton Abbey.
Yeah. Seriously.
Apparently even our Heroine has put her alter ego back on. Its Christina Gagnon I’m talking to now, and she is referring to the incredibly dramatic episode that we’d been watching in what seems to me like a completely different universe ago.
In reality, it was about an hour and a half ago. Delivering a new soul into the world is just another day in the life of these Superheros, they’ll do it again tomorrow as I go back to my books and cases and facts and arguments.
And that was that.
