My wonderful wife got up at the crack of dawn and dropped me off at SFO airport. Fortunately both bags were underweight and they didn't charge anything. I settled in for an uneventful flight to Atlanta. On arrival, I was amazed what an international hub concourse E was. In fact, I already felt like I was in another country... I simply couldn't identify which one. It was almost like being at the Olympics. At least the signage in Georgia is in English.
About 1/2 way over the Atlantic on our way to Accra, Ghana, an African gentleman laid down in the isle and curled up to take a nap. Curious. I've seen similar things before in other countries on the trains when people want to snooze despite the people and meal carts trying to pass. Other Africans, however, though this bizarre as well - so something was amiss.
The flight attendant tried to sit him up and help him back into his seat, and upon resurrection, he took a face dive towards first class. I was just talking 15 minutes prior with this flight attendant about my business in Liberia, so all he had to do was look my direction with a dubious grin and I got out of my seat to help. I saved him the "is there a doctor on board" PA announcement that we all cringe to hear.
They brought out the flight medical kit - quite well stocked I might add - and began evaluating this man. He was in his 50s, and stated he had not had anything to eat or drink during layover or during the entire flight. He had a rapid pulse and low BP. No medical history. I fed him some juice and water, and slowly helped him up. TIMBER! This was clearly not working.
I placed in IV and emptied an amp of D50 into a liter of NS... besides code drugs this was all that was available to me. I check his vital signs... improving... thank god. The medical kit had a very cool portable single lead monitor that you simply place on the patients chest. NSR.
About 2 hours of babysitting, re-checking vitals, and emptying all the fluids I had available to me into his IV, I removed his line and sat him up. He was now bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and sauntered off to his seat. Of course there is always paper work.
The nice flight attendants gave me a bottle of champagne to donate to the HEARTT residents social fund for later. Very generous.
About 2 hours into my nap, I feel a taping sensation on my shoulder. When I clear the fog out of my eyes I focus on yet another flight attendant with a quasi-panicked expression. "Are you the doctor? she asked. "The only other MD on the plane is a psychiatrist... could you help again?"
I found a small cluster of people fawning over my new patient in 21J, a middle aged African female with a similar condition. She was fortunately already in her seat and able to drink juice. This fixed her right up and I was able to return to my nap.
After a short stop in Ghana, we flew to Monrovia where our descent was met by a grounded fleet of UN helicopters, the kind you see on the Russian side of old WWII movies. We were the only jet on the tarmac. After climbing down the stairs in the humidity, we were ushered into a makeshift corral where I presented my paperwork for inspection. "Ahh, DOCTOR?" followed by my nod. "Go right through - no questions, please enjoy your stay." The only reward better than frequent flyer miles is no problems at customs when you are bringing a 50 tub of medications into the country.
So far the countryside reminds me a lot of Sri Lanka. I think the prior experience helped soften the culture shock of Liberia. I start tomorrow AM bright and early.
Thanks for reading - BBC
Black cloud again!?!
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