Neighborhood Global Health, by Esther Lee, blogger of the month

Right before our Succoth break we had “Intro to Anthro to Global Health and Medicine”, an introductory course for the global health modules we will be taking the rest of our time here. For three days we listened, learned, debated, talked over each other, asked pointed questions, and got the importance of timeliness drilled into us (one of our first encounters with Dr. Seema Biswas was her not-so-subtly reprimanding us for not being on time, which means being early, to lecture).

I think, for most of us, we felt. We felt the pangs of our current situation: listening to lectures about healthcare inequalities, economic power plays in developing countries, political tensions that get in the way of appropriate healthcare – all while sitting in a nice, air-conditioned auditorium at Ben Gurion. I felt drawn to jump into the action now, even though I felt like I little to offer as a student.

When will we be able to treat patients, regardless of race, ethnicity, religious affiliation, citizenship, or cultural barriers? When will we be able to apply our global health head knowledge to real situations, not just with role-playing classmates and hypothetical scenarios?

I walked home after the last Global Health lecture with my earphones jammed in, feeling the hot afternoon sun on the back of my neck. I was really looking forward to the ten days off for Succoth.

“Excuse me, do you have Acamol?” a petite lady wearing a baggy sweater with dusty leather sandals, waved her hand in my face to get my attention.

To tell you the truth, I was going to ignore her. I had almost a million errands to run before getting on a train to start my “Sea to Sea hike” (must do before graduating! High chance of photos in next blog). I was mentally exhausted from the last three days of Global Health. And, it was really, really hot.

I tugged my earphones out.

“What’s Acamol?”  She gave me a look of disbelief -  rightly so, as it’s one of the most common medicines in Israel [Israeli brand of Paracetamol, I had to look it up to write this] - then patiently explained, by pointing to her temple, that she has a headache and that Acamol makes it go away.

I have to admit something else -  I had Tylenol with me that I could give to her and go on my way, but after three days of Global Health I couldn’t do it with a clean conscience.

I asked her why she doesn’t have it with her, after all, it’s a common painkiller and we live in a city - there’s sure to be a pharmacy in our neighborhood. But what about the socioeconomic factors unique to her life? Can she afford the medication? Is the pharmacy close to her home? Is she physically capable of walking there alone even if she could afford it? Does someone have to take her? Or is it something in her diet and lifestyle that is triggering her headaches? (Global Health has influenced even my small-talk skills).

I discovered that she has the money, but not a lot; she doesn’t know where the nearest pharmacy is; she would be grateful if I went to the pharmacy and got them for her (I asked); her stash of Acamol that her doctor prescribed is all gone and that she can’t go to her doctor again alone because of her some hidden complexity in her insurance plan.

We talked for over half an hour in the Beersheva heat on the side of the street. I watched her face lit up as she talked about her childhood in Poland and immigrating to Israel. She mentioned the difficulty of moving to the Negev as a young wife with four babies. And how she misses her old home she lived with her husband, the one with the spacious front patio, the one that her children made her sell to come live with them in dusty and crowded city.

She wasn’t asking me for medicine. She was asking me for things that money can’t buy. Time, sincerity, someone who could look her in the eyes and listen to her.  She also wasn’t just an old lady on the verge of losing her mind, looking for someone to listen to her ramble.

When I asked her if she drank enough water, or if she drank tea or coffee (triggers of headaches), she gave me a wide mischievous smile and told me she couldn’t live without her morning cup of joy. We high-fived in whole-hearted agreement (but I didn’t forget to remind her to drink water afterwards).

And, when I asked her if she cooks and what she eats at home, she gave me a look as if she knew what I was getting at – I was hoping to subtly check for a hint of elderly abuse since she is a widower

with one of her children - and answered that she loves Italian food and that an organization brings homemade cooking to her house sometimes. Her sweet, smug grin lingered in the air between us.

We didn’t talk about Acamol again, or the headache. (She reminded me how much she misses her patio throughout the whole conversation). We finally exchanged names. She asked about me, and when I told her I was studying medicine she told me that it is a worthy pursuit. She told me the next time she sees me, she’ll greet me properly with, “Hi Doc!”

“Don’t give up, never” she told me as we parted ways. She’s right. This road that we’ve chosen is lengthy, tedious, and is terrible for our social lives. Sometimes we doubt our decision to come study medicine in a foreign country. I know I’ve had my bouts of gripping fear and uncertainty in being here. But we’re here for a reason, and I believe that the more committed we are to being fully here and the more willing we are to set our roots down in this desert, we’ll see the little reasons of why we came to Israel.

I think the encounter with Anette* was a small answer to why I came here.  I’m here not only to study medicine through a global perspective, but also to practice loving the people, culture, and context, wherever I happen to me. I’m realizing that sometimes we put down roots through unexpected ways.

Now that we’re here, we are doing all it takes to keep going, to keep pushing our lonely roots down in the dry, cracked soil. We must remember that we’re here for a reason.  So whether studying bacteriology, lysosomal storage diseases, or drawing out biochemical pathways for the tenth time, or filling out medical school essays, interviewing, and playing the waiting game - Don’t give up, never. We’re in this journey for a reason greater than we are.   - Esther Lee, blogger of the month

*Pseudonym

Some pictures of the sea to sea hike! Started on the Mediterranean, from the coastal city of Nahariya.

We spent the first day walking through a nature reserve park. The stream crossings kept us from getting too hot.

Walking through valleys and looking up at mountains makes one feel appropriately small and humble.

Sleeping on the shore of the Yam Kineret (Sea of Galilee) after 4 days and ~ 60km and waking up to a striking sunrise was an appropriate way to end our hike.