Staying healthy

Working in a remote location has many challenges, one of them being how to stay healthy. It is something I attack from many angles.

Local cuisine: fish

First there is the problem of dehydration. I work less than eight degrees from the equator, at sea level. Life is hot and sweaty, and I sweat a lot. This means I have to be constantly diligent about remaining hydrated. This is more than a question of drinking at least 3L of water a day, as salts become an issue with sweating. As I am aware of this, I add far more salt to my meals than I do elsewhere, plus I have vegemite with lunch every day. Vegemite is a tasty way to have my daily salt lick.

Also on the dietary front is the limited diet with not much fresh fruit. My friends who are doctors at the local hospital have commented to me on numerous occasions of the poor nutrition in the area and what that means for health. I bring with me a lot of my own food, which helps to combat this problem. I dehydrate fruit and meat to supplement my diet. I also take multi-vitamins to further boost my system. My favourite multi-vitamins are not synthetic, but are achieved by sprouting dried mung beans so that they are fresh, crunchy, yummy and nutritious snacks. Strengthening my system to help me fight disease and infection is particularly important in a remote location.

I am constantly aware of the possibility of infections and my distance from help. Australians will be familiar with the story of the asylum seeker who died from complications from an infected wound. For wounds to do this is a sad reality of life in a tropical developing country and is the reason I fight sources of infection however possible. I use hand sanitiser on a regular basis and attack any and all scratches and bites with tea tree ointment. The soap I use when I wash each day is anti-bacterial. Still, sometimes a bite will get infected and even with lots of careful wound cleaning and care, I am not winning. Then it is time to speak with a medical person, either at the local hospitals where my friends are, or via radio with our base in the Highlands, and attack with antibiotics instead.

 Local cuisine: sago

Bugs and the diseases they bring are another problem. At night I sleep under a mosquito net, when outside my net I wear some sort of insect repellent. Sometimes I burn mosquito coils or sandalwood incense sticks to drive the bugs out of the house, but as these things give me a headache I do it rarely. In wet season, when mosquitoes are more prolific, I take anti-malarials. During the dry season I give my body a break from those drugs. All year I travel with malaria rapid tests and a course of treatment drugs. The rapid tests have one major flaw: I’m not very good at hurting myself on purpose. It is a very good thing that self harm is not my strong point, until I need to prick my finger deeply enough to draw blood.

Getting enough rest is also part of staying healthy. Life on the coast is hot and exhausting. Having a siesta rather than pushing myself in the hottest part of the day helps me to remain well.

The biggest health challenge for my area is tuberculosis, or TB. It is everywhere and it is spreading. Although my doctor friends do their best, they are fighting a battle that is much bigger than them. Living in that environment and hearing the stories from the hospitals, it is something I actively seek to avoid. Having my own house gives me a big safety margin, as I am not breathing in others air all day. Having better nutrition and being generally healthy means I am less likely to succumb. Being alert to TB means that should it ever get hold of me, I would be likely to catch it early and treat it successfully. Still, I hope to never be in that situation.

Maintaining my physical health while in the village requires planning, vigilance and an acceptance that things do not always go to plan. It means being willing to recognise when I am unwell and to go for help. It means thanking God for the good health I have had so far.

PS As per usual, I left writing my blog until the last minute before I went to the village. I wrote enough posts for one-a-week for the first half of my time away, hoping that I'd write more in the village and be in a place with internet to post them before the second half of my stay. If my blog is quiet from now until late March, you know that did not happen!

Privilege

Recent events have reminded me of what it means to be among the privileged people in our world and to be thankful for being born among the ‘haves’ rather than the ‘have-nots’.

There are many ways privilege can be measured, and too often we measure ourselves by what we don’t have, rather than what we do. There will always be someone else with more. When I look at what I do have, I am among the richest and most privileged people not just now, but through all of history. The medieval kings and queens who make for fun fairy tales were not as rich as I.

That which makes me privileged includes:

Health and access to healthcare. It is easy to take health for granted, until you or someone you know is dealing with illness. That I have been healthy most of my life is a blessing. That when I became ill recently (not seriously, but enough to interfere with life) I had access to doctors and medicine was a privilege. In PNG, not everyone has that, at least not without a long journey. Even at the end of the journey to a hospital, there is no guarantee that the staff, equipment or medications will be available to help. When the locals doctors decided I needed to follow things up with specialists, I was able to fly back to Australia and see specialists there. The privilege of having the funding, insurance and passport to be able to do that makes me one of a very small number in this country. Once in Australia I chose to spend money rather than time and go through the private system to get answers sooner. That I had the funds to do this is a privilege.  Even if I had not, the public system in Australia gives high quality health care to those in need, it just might take a while to get to the head of the line if your condition is not critical. We are privileged to have access to such care, access that does not require going into debt.

Education and Literacy. I sit here at my computer, typing my thoughts so that  I can put them on the internet and share them with the world. In a box at my parents’ house I have enough university degrees to allow me to put more letters after my name than I have in it. I have been taught critical thinking and I can engage with the world. These are the big things of literacy and education, but the fact I can read the instructions on the medications from the doctors and ask questions about what they’ve said, are the important everyday applications. So many cannot do this. They have not had enough education to read meaningfully, or even at all, and have not been taught to challenge authority and take control of their own bodies and their own lives. That I can read fluently and think critically makes me privileged. That I can do this as a woman makes me even more privileged.

Safety and Freedom. People always ask me about my safety in PNG. I am safe here, I am careful about my safety, and I am not afraid. Maybe I do not walk about at night on my own or head to local villages on my own, but these are small and manageable things. I can sleep at night without wondering if a war will land a bomb-shell on my house. I don’t worry about drug cartels or gangs, as people do in other places. I can publicly express my faith without fear of persecution. Although my clothing is less revealing than standard Australian wardrobes, there are no laws or religious police who will beat me for choosing to dress otherwise. When others are willing to lose everything, including their lives, for a chance at the level of freedom I live with, I am reminded how privileged I am to live with such safety and freedom.

There is also the security that my faith gives me. I believe that I am a beloved child of God, of intrinsic worth to the Creator of everything. I have stood on the deck of a ship at night, out of sight of land, with an infinity of stars above me and mysterious kilometres of ocean beneath me and known in my deepest being that I am known and loved. I am not a speck lost in an infinite universe. Although I have my ups and downs, I have a hope and joy in life and do not fear death. Dying sounds a bit scary, but death itself does not scare me. This security in life and death is not something everyone knows.

Food, water, shelter. Maybe these things should have come first! At the moment El Nino is causing a drought in PNG. Further up in the Highlands than my base it has also caused frost. When frost kills the gardens of subsistence farmers, they go hungry. When the water in the creeks goes down and becomes dirtier, people still need to drink. That I have a house with warm blankets to sleep under at night, half a tank of rainwater (I’m from Adelaide, I’m practiced at water conservation!) and food in the cupboard, with funds to buy more when needed makes me a privileged person. Not only do I have food to survive on, but food to enjoy, which makes me rich indeed. I do not always appreciate these everyday things as I should.

Community. Although I am single and live alone, I am not really alone. I am part of a network of communities and belonging; here in Ukarumpa, in Gulf Province, in Australia and with friends scattered across the world. I have my moments of loneliness, but the reality is that I have good and loving relationships with many people near and far. Such belonging should not be taken for granted. Many are alone, not knowing their neighbours, having no one to call on, cut off from their families. When I was stressed recently, I had many friends to call on, friends who would rearrange their plans to make time for me when I needed them. I am honoured to call these people my friends and family. It is a privilege I am aware others lack, and that prompts me to reach out to those who are less networked than I.

Meaningful work. This may seem an odd addition to the list, but having recently had a few weeks sick leave, returning to work has reminded me that I enjoy what I do and that this is a privilege. So many just struggle to make ends meet. To not only have regular income, but to be doing something I am skilled at and passionate about it a privilege indeed.

Have-nots. Reflecting on what I don’t have is important in recognising what I do have in two ways. The first is to help me see what I do have, and the other is to help me appreciate what others have. This second path reminds me that privilege takes many shapes and that I should never expect people to be thankful for the exact same things as me. One thing I do not have, which others do, is land. I say this as a reminder of the privilege that the majority of PNGns have in secure access to their land. Although I have much that they don’t have, their life has other good things. 

Sailing in Cairns… Yachts are often depicted as the ultimate expression of privilege. My afternoon of sailing expressed my privilege in that I was healthy enough to go, could read the information to find out how to join in, had the funds to pay for it and as a woman could safely decide to do this if I wanted to. Yep, I’m privileged!