Second Day in Rajabagan

We began our second week of work in the same general slum area that we started out in (Rajabagan) , but in a separate section of the slum across the road. This way we could give aid to some of the patients we missed out on the first day as promised, but also expand our program to a new neighborhood.
I was first struck by the narrow, dense nature of this slum as compared to the area where we did our first camp in Rajabagan, which was right next to a highway and was much more organized and spread out. We were greeted by a crowd of people that had been gathering near the tent/clubhouse area and we commenced registration almost immediately. This was the most chaotic crowd we had experienced yet and we were turning more people away this time after we had signed up the first 80. The atmosphere was very disorganized and if anything, got more chaotic rather than less as the night progressed.
The clubhouse was probably a fourth of the size of the first slum's clubhouse so we could only barely fit two doctors' tables inside. We had to put two outside, which encouraged the crowds outside to be even more rowdy. Nonetheless, we were relatively experienced now so we got through our patients pretty quickly. I was working with Collin today with a new doctor who gave us significant freedom with our questioning and physical examinations. At the same time, he was very attentive and made sure we were learning from him as he was prescribing. One patient was spitting out blood and had complained of other respiratory problems, so the doctor suspected the patient may have tuberculosis. There was no way of confirming it though, since we did not have the proper diagnostic tools at our disposal. There were also a few cases in the beginning of mothers complaining that children were itching their heads and developing a minor rash after they put oil on their head. Clearly the mothers were aware of the cause, but weren't stopping putting oil. I just told them to stop putting the oil on the children's heads. Hopefully they'll listen. Sometimes hearing it from a perceived "authority" (which was a rare position for me) is what makes you act.
I enjoyed seeing one family of a mother and three sweet girls ranging from about 5 to 11 years old- Mili, Buni, and Bulti Mahali were their names. They all were suffering from worms in their stool (probably from the polluted water they are drinking) and were underweight. When I asked the mother if there was anything else was wrong with the children, she lovingly described Mili, the youngest, as being "susti" or lazy, and Buni, the eldest, as not eating enough and never feeling hungry. When we completed the childrens' diagnoses, we took the clinical history of the mother, who was complaining of menstrual cramps and other aches and pains. Meanwhile the children were playing with the weighing machine and as Collin and the doc were finishing up, I decided to talk to the girls. I asked if they went to school, and they said they went everyday from 10-2. I asked them what they ate, what activities they did. I also told Buni that she should eat more because it's good for her. She laughed with her sister after I said that, but I made sure to get an assurance from her that she would follow our instructions. She gave the characteristic shy, acquiescing Indian head nod and then told me that I was very good and that I should come back another time. Though I didn't do or say anything particularly special, having a person you are trying to help give you that kind of approval for the work you are doing is a moment I won't forget from this trip.
Ironically enough, I later learned that many members of the slum were not happy with us for taking in too many members of the same family especially when some families did not get any sort of "representation" in our camp. They particularly referenced the Mahali family I detailed above, but to be really honest I'm not sure that's an entirely fair grievance to file against us. I see where they are coming from, but in the chaos of the moment it is very difficult to deny a registration slip to people who come and a mother who tries to register all her children, especially when it is first come first serve and there are enough slots open for her to do so. We could theoretically go from house to house and get one or two patients each, but I'm not sure that's worth it. I would much rather treat based on severity of illness or leave it as is than try to conform to an idea of fairness I don't really agree with. If the slum wants it to be by family, then it should be up to the leaders of the slum to pre-register those patients for us to see. That's my thinking now, but it's subject to change I'm sure.