Cheers

The following is from Road Scholar Meghan and her series of updates about her recent humanitarian aid trip to Ghana.  It has been edited for content and length.

My first thought was "No bloody way!?! THEY ACCEPTED ME?!?! AWESOME!!!"

My second thought was..."What the hell am I doing??"

And of course the third thought was "How the hell am I going to pitch this one to the parents without someone having a breakdown??" A few weeks back, after I had already applied, and NOT told the parents, I met them in Washington D.C. for a mini family reunion/vacation. At dinner, with an alcoholic beverage in all of our hands, I spilled the beans. The conversation went like this:

Meghan: "So, I might have applied for a trip to do some medical volunteer work abroad."

Mom and Dad's eyes get big..the ears perk up and the hands start clasping together. They're bracing for the news. My sister's Eileen and Katie hold back a laugh, knowing that the next ten minutes are going to be a great show to sit back and watch. 

Mom: "Where?"

Pause...wait for it.....

Meghan: "Slightly south of London....."

Mom: "Meghan...get it over with...where??!"

Meghan: (big chug of beer, then...) "Ghana?"

Mom takes a big sigh, with the "of course you are!" look on her face. Dad pops in immediately..

Dad: "I don't like it, it can't be safe. Is it safe?"

I spend the next ten minutes pleading my case that yes, it is safe, there is no war going on in the country, they have electricity, indoor plumbing and even two universities. I will have the proper immunizations and everything will be just fine. 

Dad still isn't too convinced. And like the typical father, asks that other imminent question...

Dad: "How much is this going to cost?"

Meghan: "I'm paying for it all. Promise. We'll be doing fundraisers, raffles to raise money. It will be fine."

Dad: "I still don't totally like the idea of you going to a third world country."

I decide to shoot back with what I thought was a foolproof, win-win, comment.

Meghan: "You know Dad, Mother Teresa did all this charity work and you never disapproved of her doing it!"

And without so much as a breath in between...

Dad: "Mother Teresa didn't owe me money."

I almost choke on my beer. The table goes into hysterical laughter.

Touche.

Dad, 1. Meghan, 0.

As far as I was concerned, the hardest part of the trip was now over with. The parents knew. And I switched on the planning gears and started, well, planning. 

We had our first team meeting in New York City two weeks ago.  The group consists of about 19 people: six doctors, seven nurses, a photographer, a writer, a sculpturer, and a social worker. If you haven't looked at the Unified for Global Healing website, it's not just a medical team. They combine medicine with art to teach the population about healthcare. To get messages across about malaria, AIDS, diseases in general, they use art, since most of the under-served communitiescan't read and write.  It's unique to say the least. 

Though they all seem like a great group, I wouldn't be surprised if I catch myself burning incense and doing yoga on this trip.  Obviously, there's nothing wrong with that, but anyone who knows me knows I'm not the yoga type. At all. But at our meeting I learned  there's a cocktail hour every night, so everyone wins. Cheers.

I've gotten all of my shots...six of them. Fun times. Paul, the nurse that gave them all to me, said I was very good and didn't cry. But for two days after my arms were in complete pain. That Hep A shot will kick you. I got a prescription for Malarone, the pill for Malaria and will take that right before I leave and while I'm there. I also got a prescription for Ciprofloxacin in case the food and travel  takes a number on my system. Let's just say while I won't be drinking the water (only bottled), rumor has it I will be visiting the porcelin god a few times the first few days and losing a few pounds. I think that's a total upside; who needs the Atkins diet, just go to Ghana!  

I'm still determined to make it for that cocktail hour every night. 

Ghana Or Bust!

The following is from Road Scholar Meghan.  It is the first in a series of posts about her recent humanitarian aid trip to Ghana.  It has been edited for content and length.

For the last few years I have worked at Boston Medical Center in Boston, MA in the Emergency Room as a nursing assistant, ED tech, whatever p.c. term they use nowadays. I love it. Lots of trauma, fast pace, lots of teaching, lots of experience, lots of amusing stories to tell my friends when they're felling sad (really, they call and ask me to "tell me one of your ER stories, I need a laugh"). The hospital serves mostly lower income families in the city, the homeless and the immigrant communities. The staff, on their own, is very committed to serving this population and, as a result, have joined or formed some outside, non-profit organizations. One of which, Unified for Global Healing, was co-founded by one of our ER Doctors, Thea James. For the last several years, she, along with other people, have traveled to underserved populations and given free medical care to those communities. Well, this year the trip is to Ghana. 

I had (FINALLY) passed my nursing boards back in March/April and the state of MA gave me my official license to practice nursing.  Shortly thereafter, I was looking for nursing jobs all over the place. I was still working at Boston Medical as a nursing assistant because I hadn't really found a nursing job yet. It's a common practice for nursing students who have finished school and even taken the board exam to stay at their current place of employment, as a nursing assistant, for a bit before going out to get a real nursing job. I was in the lounge one day having lunch and I saw a poster with the tagline: "Want to go to Ghana?"

 I looked at the nurse sitting next to me and said "Sure! I'd love to go to Ghana!", paused for a bit, then said  "Where's Ghana?"

So I "Wkikpedia'd" GHANA and this is what came up..enjoy. 

Anyone that knows me realizes I don't take travel lightly. I'm all in if I say yes. Anna, a friend of mine from college, told me one day she was traveling to London for the weekend and, very lightly, asked me if I wanted to go with her. Much to her surprise, I said "Sure!", and bought the ticket. She barely knew my last name at that point, so it made for an interesting conversation. A few years later, she asked me if I wanted to take care of a bunch of kids at an American Boarding School in Switzerland....Yup! Love to! I've had Boston neighbors casually get to know me and at a girls night out, very lightly, ask me over a few drinks if I wanted to go to West Palm Beach in Florida for a few days....Just tell me when! You get the point. And I have the pics to prove it all.

Needless to say, when I said yes to Ghana, I wasn't taking it lightly either. But this trip was going to be somewhat different than any other one before it. I was going to be working, as a nurse, in a foreign country. Granted in Switzerland, my title was nurse, but I was supervised by an actual licensed RN and took care of privileged 6 to 10 year olds whose biggest complaint (minus my one Japanese hemophiliac who I rushed to the local hospital one night) was that their sunscreen smelled funny. Ghana children are going to have slightly different complaints, like "I have malaria". Just a smidge different. But from the moment I chose nursing as  a career, I wanted to do international work. When I found out the trip was a short two weeks, it was enough to convince me it would be a great "stepping stone" or foot in the door to international healthcare. 

I turned in my application. Knowing there were only a few slots available and lots of people applying,  I was pretty sure I wouldn't get accepted but figured at least I'd be on their board when I applied next year.  After an hour long telephone interview and two weeks, I got the email. 

"Congratulations! We welcome you as part of the 2008 medical team to Ghana!"

Do You Have A Ticket?

It was about noon when I finally succumbed to the pesky daylight streaming into our room.  Amazed that on a Sunday morning I hadn't yet heard from my parents, I picked up the phone and dialed their room.  I woke them up.  No mass today, this would be a Godless heathen Sunday.

Our hotel was nice in many respects, but the rooms lacked proper ventilation.  As with many hotels in Europe--even in the warm countries--there was no air conditioning.  Normally I can live with that, but in this hotel the windows were latched and only opened about an inch.  With three drunkards sweating beer in the room, the air was stale and warm.  It was time to get up and find that guy driving the truck that spent the morning running over us, although, considering all the drinking we did, I didn't really feel hungover.  I was extremely dehydrated, but that was probably due as much to the air travel as the bar hopping.  I think Harry turned us on to the ultimate cure for jet lag: just keep drinking.

From the time I made that initial "good morning" phone call, it took us over three hours to get to a restaraunt for "breakfast".  This brings us to the number two source of friction on a Genovese Family Vacation (GFV).  Survey says: my brother.

Experience has taught me that the larger the object, the slower it responds to change.  My brother is a speed boat: he jets from point to point doing 360's in the water, accelerates from zero to sixty in about three seconds, brakes on a dime, and changes direction at will.  Our family--especially when travelling--is like a cruise ship: routes and destinations must be well planned, acceleration is sluggish, and changes in direction must be minor or else the ship will capsize.  

This drives my brother crazy.  Once he's ready to go, everyone else should be too, which prompts him to start with the nagging comments: "you guys take forever", "for God's sake let's just go", and my personal favorite, "are you fucking kidding me right now?".  

This in turn drives my mother crazy prompting her comments like "Patrick knock it off", "chill out already", and again I have a favorite, "Raymond, smack him!".

This in turn drives the rest of crazy.  So we drink.  Heavily.  And now you understand the GFV infinity circle.  Thank God for Harry.

Once fed and watered, Harry led us to the DART station to catch a train to Dun Laughaire.  By this time there were eight of us.  I mention that because we weren't all up to getting out of bed as early as noon and Josh did not accompany us to "breakfast".  At the DART station, we were faced with the daunting task of purchasing train tickets at the automated kiosk.  Normally that kind of thing is right up my alley, but there were a few...distractions.

Distraction #1

When Harry met us at the "Judge Roy Bean" pub, he brought us an Irish cell phone to use during our visit so we could keep in touch while travelling the countryside.  The gesture was a blessing and a curse.  As soon as we shared the number with Uncle Father Seamus, who was in Lurgan finishing preparations for the funeral, he didn't stop calling to find out where we were, what we were doing, and offer us unsolicited advice on what we should see and do next.  All of this earned him the title of "Cruise Director".  

Distraction #2

You may remember when the girls came to visit me in England and I got chewed out by the man in the train office for using a ticket kiosk. Ever since that experience, I've been a little off my game when it comes to ticket kiosks.  I kept going through the process of selecting our destination, quantity of tickets, and type of trip, but then couldn't get the machine to take the money.  It turns out I wasn't pressing the right payment key.

Distraction #3

Even though there were eight in our party, we only needed seven tickets.  Remember when I told you Harry doesn't make arrests but he does use his badge?

Distraction #4

The worst copilot ever is also the worst mathematician ever.  Initially he forgot to count Josh since he wasn't at lunch with us.  Then he kept forgetting to count himself but he did count Harry, who kept saying "I don't need a ticket", which caused my dad to subtract one from the count (which was already wrong since it didn't include him).  At least he's consistent.

So what should have been a single transaction for seven tickets turned out to be three transactions consisting of:

• A call for more coins to get the exact change
  
• My dad asking everyone "do you have a ticket?"
  
• The cruise director calling to find out what was going on
  
• My dad saying "dammit" when, after the transaction, someone didn't have a ticket
  
• My brother halfway up the stairs to the platform muttering "are you fucking kidding me right now? You guys take forever for God's sake let's just go" 

I think that's like a GFV infinity circle trifecta.