By Damien Brown
A robust, unusually humorous, and finally uplifting account of existence at the scientific frontline, and a relocating testimony of the paintings performed by Medecins Sans Frontieres Damien Brown, a tender health professional, thinks he's prepared while he arrives for his first posting with Medecins Sans Frontieres in Africa. however the city he's despatched to is an remoted outpost of dust huts, surrounded by way of landmines; the clinic, for which he's to be the one healthcare professional, is stuffed with malnourished childrens and prerequisites he's by no means visible; and the wellbeing and fitness workers—Angolan struggle veterans two times his age who communicate no English—walk out on him following an altercation on his first shift. within the months that persist with, Damien confronts those demanding situations the entire whereas facing the social absurdities of dwelling with in simple terms 3 different volunteers for corporation. The clinical calamities pile up—including a leopard assault, a landmine explosion, and having to accomplish surgical procedure utilizing instruments wiped clean at the fire—but it's via Damien's evolving friendships with the local community that his ardour for the paintings grows. This heartbreaking and sincere account of existence at the clinical frontline in Angola, Mozambique, and South Sudan is a relocating testimony of the paintings performed by means of clinical humanitarian teams and the intense and occasionally eccentric those that paintings for them.
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Additional info for Band-Aid for a Broken Leg: Being a Doctor with No Borders (and Other Ways to Stay Single)
When I pulled those two outer gloves off, the skin on my hand and my arm immediately froze solid, even underneath that third expedition-weight glove. The shooting pain of instant frostbite so startled me that I lost my grip on the glove in my left hand, which the wind grabbed—whoooooosh—and sent into outer space. There was another pair of gloves in the pack on my back. But they might as well have been under my bed at home. In such a storm, there was no way I could take off that pack, put it down and rummage through it.
One day he emerged from his tent wearing a sombrero and a red-and-white outfit that looked like a striped sock. He looked more like a cartoon character than a climber. The Sherpas nearly fell out of their boots laughing. If you can wear a getup like that, I guarantee that you’re pretty sure of yourself in the company of other men. Once we were all fully acclimated to altitude—just before our final summit push—Taske supervised a Harvard two-step physiology test for our group. We were curious to see how members of the expedition would handle brief periods of intense effort.
There were also theme-night dinners, when the food and its preparation and everyone’s dress were supposed to complement one team member’s salient characteristic. I’d brought with me several pounds of bodybuilding powder, which I consumed daily to help keep my weight up. So at my theme dinner, the crowd showed up looking like drug dealers. For table decoration, someone produced a mirror and did lines of my powder on it. By far the predominant physical feature of Base Camp is the great Khumbu Icefall, which begins just a quarter mile away and stretches up the mountain for two miles and almost two thousand vertical feet.