For the past few days, although I thought the temperature had gone down a little, we all seem to be complaining of non-specific tiredness. I've been yawning through the afternoon and Geoff's been nodding off in his chair much earlier than usual - it's 9pm and he's very much asleep already.
My only conclusion is that it must be the heat and it is exhausting. Even the Zambians are complaining about how hot it is. Not that that has stopped them wearing t-shirts under their shirts and other bizarrely hot clothing. I even saw a guy wearing a wooly hat today!
There is one set of shelves that still needs counting in the Pharmacy stores and a set of boxes that needs moving to the other store. I sense in the morning that it's unlikely to happen. Sande has busied himself fulfilling a requisition and is complaining that the shelves I'm pointing at are inaccessible because the fluids are stacked up against them.
I'm not going to fight him on my own, I need Abraham to lay down the law. So instead I head into the antibiotics storage room to check if the aircon is on. I know that it's 80% likely that it isn't on. And I'm right. I press the button but have limited success in getting it to come on and stay on. I look at the thermometers. There are 2 in the room - one taped at eye level to the shelving (which they don't use) and one lying on a shelf (which they do use). All the temperature recordings are suspiciously similar so that a typical week of maximum temps looks like 25, 25, 25, 25, 25, 25, 25. Very convenient when the max temp of the drugs is 25. The first thermometer with a watch-like face reads 27 degrees - that feels about right.
The second thermometer is more curious. It's of an older sort with the bulb of fluid at the bottom and a glass tube. It appears that a good few inches of the top have broken off. My suspicions are confirmed when I put my thumb on the bulb and try to heat it up - nothing happens. I also notice that very conveniently it has been shifted in its casing so that the 'temperature' lines up with the mid-20s on the scale. Unfortunately the genius that did this time- and stress-saving manipulation didn't look too closely at the scale in question - it's the Fahrenheit scale... And whilst I might have had difficulty proving that the room was 27 deg C and not 25 deg C, I'm pretty sure it's definitely not 20 degrees Fahrenheit.
I am frustrated. I can understand and sympathise with people not wanting to use the computer software if it's complicated and they don't really understand it. Especially if they have to do paper as well. I can understand that it's difficult to run an efficient store if other people take things and jumble up your shelves when you aren't there. I cannot understand why a grown adult who has chosen to work in a hospital would do something as childish as manipulate the temperature readings of essential drugs. Well, I can understand - it saves you the work of having to fix the aircon and worry if the drugs are still viable, of course. And it isn't you that's ill so you won't benefit if the drugs actually work, but really? Is this the level of apathy in Pharmacy?? (at least amongst some of the staff). I was still hoping that I'd misinterpreted the apparent apathy when critical items go out of stock or that babies are suffering because the oxygen concentrators they need are in boxes in the stores. Maybe it is a case of out of sight, out of mind. Certainly the patients coming for their HIV drugs get treated well.
After speaking to the Workshop Manager, who comes to look at the air conditioning unit and change the settings, I decide to go home and do some other work. And that's not just because he tells me that the unit in the big chilled room is known to be malfunctioning but isn't a priority to fix! I don't know what my priorities would be, and probably this wouldn't be no1, but I'm hoping that keeping the drugs cool would be high up on the list. Probably above the cost of painting my bathroom, which is allegedly happening tomorrow morning at 7.30.
In the afternoon Abraham and I try to persuade Sande to start with the shelf tidying. I'm saying persuade Sande not because I don't want to do it but because I refuse to do it without him. There is no point me doing it by myself (the previous time he was stood with me but not moving, this time he was going to be in the Dispensary) because he won't notice or care or take any pride in it and the shelf will just get messy again. He must be doing most of the work with me helping. There's a very animated debate in Nyanja that Abraham summarises to 'he's too tired today (it's 2pm), he will do it tomorrow first thing and he knows he will (even if he does it with an angry face) because otherwise I will tell Mr Nyirenda!'
The items that were in the wrong store room have miraculously made their way to the correct one but I'm a little concerned that they were missed in our stock taking exercise and I'd like Sande or Kapapi just to check a few numbers so that we can be happy everything is fine. An argument breaks out with all manner of finger pointing and aggression. I interpret from the movements that Sande believes that Kapapi is at fault and therefore Kapapi must sort it out. I try to point out that we are one team working towards the same goal and perhaps fighting with each other isn't the best way to make sure we can work together happily in the future. Plus, it's wasting time and we could be halfway through counting by now if we weren't having domestics in the corridor.
Now that I've written out what I've been up to, I wonder whether it is just the heat that's making me tired! And Geoff has been operating all day. Including an unfortunate incident with the Prof slipping and possibly cutting him with one of the instruments. [The patient is 80 and tests negative for HIV].
I spent a little of the rest of the afternoon talking to Abraham and now I think I know his whole story and also that he can't count! It started with me asking his age and him telling me to guess - I took Geoff's estimate and said 44. He squealed at me and stuck out his tongue. Then he pretended to be 29. After a time he told me he was 32 and born in January 1979 - I pointed out that either he can't count or he was lying to me again! He thought I was 34!! [which, on reflection, was probably less insulting than my 44] and then found it hilarious when I huffed at him that it was very rude to say 'Really????' if a girl tells you her age and you think she looks OLDER!
Anyway, he has known the hospital since 1988 and I think he will be a good source of stories and anecdotes over the coming weeks!
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