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...cont'd
When Greg complained
about his eyes I looked at them and saw
a film - a growth that occurs over the white
part of the eye from irritation, usually
from UV exposure. The interesting thing
is that Greg can't use sunglasses while
he's prospecting because he's colorblind.
He can't wear UV protection and he's exposed
to a lot of dirt and dust when he's looking
for microfossils and crawling on the ground.
So I gave him a pair of army tight-fitting
goggles to keep the dust and dirt out. I
told to wear a cap with a visor to cut down
on the glare.
We also had some unexpected
things - early in the trip all of a sudden
everyone came down with urinary tract infections
at the same time. And, the friction burns
from the water slide the team made in Camp
2 were unexpected, too.

Checking the
eye of team member Greg Wilson
What is the main
difference for you between treating people
out here and treating people at home?
That's an interesting
question for two reasons. In the States
doctors have access to medication any time.
We prescribe things left and right. Here
I had to balance the fact that we have a
limited supply of medication for an expedition
that's fairly long against the risk of waiting
too long to treat something to where an
infection got too serious.
The other main difference
is diagnosis: there were a lot of things
that would have been simple to make a decision
about if we'd had diagnostic tools - like
a microscope or a strep test. Some of the
things I brought, like urine dip sticks,
I couldn't rely on because reactants have
gone bad in the heat. In the end I had to
rely on my clinical judgment rather than
diagnostic tools.
Did you have any
specific concerns - in addition to snakebites
and scorpion stings - because of our location
in West Africa?
I knew in advance what
main medical concerns are - cholera, meningitis,
polio, malaria, hepatitis - all things you
have to get vaccinations for before you
can travel. Rabies concerned me. That was
my first concern when Dino, the dog, showed
up.
I came very close to
bringing rabies vaccine, but the chance
of it staying good in the heat is pretty
slim. The risk of animal bites is actually
greater in the cities, not out here [in
the field]. And in the city we have access
to the clinic. I didn't think there'd be
a rabid camel wandering into camp.
How did you feel
about the idea you might be asked to treat
local people?
I hoped I would be able
to treat some of the local people. It's
so much more rewarding. All of the bureaucracy
is not in the way any more. It's just you
and someone who needs help or questions
answered.
You spent time
with nearly 100 local nomads during the
expedition. Can you describe a typical scene?
Most often, someone
would just ride up to the site on a camel,
or a donkey, sit and wait. They maybe have
heard the team has a doctor from someone
else, or they hope that, as foreigners we
might have medicine.
At that point, I was
faced with needing two translators- English
to French and then French to Tamacheck.
Getting a history is challenging because
you have to choose a very few good questions,
as opposed to asking a lot of detailed questions.
The environment is almost always less than
optimal - it is usually a dark place with
a lot of people around - in other words,
not enough light and no privacy.
It was a real challenge
getting histories. I never really knew what
they expected or felt about the privacy
of their bodies - especially women who might
be Muslim. It turned out they were all fine
with it - they would just say, "no problem."
Although I can't often
change people's lives or serious medical
problems out here, I think people need their
fears allayed, need to have someone to talk
to - it's not just a matter of giving pills.
I don't minimize the amount of good you
can do by just talking to people. It was
rewarding, but very frustrating. In some
respects I felt I could do very little,
but I feel like we did a lot for the individuals

Photo by G.H.
Lyon
What was one of
the more interesting cases for you from
a medical perspective?
I was very nervous about
seeing one woman, who, according to the
people around, hadn't stood in 10 months.
We kept hearing about this woman from different
people who visited the site, and based on
what I was hearing I thought I wouldn't
be able to tell her what it was - which
would have been unsatisfying for everyone
involved. It ended up being something completely
unexpected.
On one of our prospecting
days we ended up in an area near where she
was and the local chief took us to her hut.
I went inside the small, dark hut covered
with straw and blankets. There was a young
woman - 20 years old - lying on a mat. She
didn't talk throughout the entire history
and interview and barely moved. I got her
history from other people.
In this situation I
had to observe really carefully. I did a
couple things - I wanted to hear her voice
- it was almost inaudible. I listened to
her chest, eyes, nose, mouth; checked her
strength and reflexes. I also had to use
some tricks.
For example, I told
her I had to have her seated on the
bed because I wanted to see her get up.
I wanted to see the way she moved and to
see if she could use her legs and what her
strength was. That was the single most important
thing.
I told her that I needed
to look in her eyes in the sunlight and
I needed her to stand outside. She did it
unassisted - crouching to get out of the
hut takes strength and coordination - and
she stood there for a good five minutes.
I also watched her behavior
to her baby. It was very bad - it was very
unattached - no bonding at all. Her affect,
her behavior, in particular, were the main
clues for me that this was not a neurological
problem.
I asked the translators
to ask her one final - but very specific
- question. "If the pregnancy was difficult
for her. Not if it was difficult,
but difficult for her. Make sure
they ask it that way." Her answer was "Yes."
"After the baby was born, was it very difficult?"
She said, "Yes." To me that was a confirmation
that this was a depression problem, and
was consistent with a post-partum pregnancy.
Once you had reached
that conclusion, what did you do?
The resources were pretty
limited. I would have liked to know about
her relationship with her mother and her
husband, but I couldn't get into all of
that. Trying to do some sort of psychotherapy
was impossible, so what I could do was assure
everyone around her that she was physically
able to walk, but that this was a legitimate
medical problem.
We spent some time trying
to explain this in a sympathetic way that
she needs help from them. I tried to tell
her that "this will get better, but it will
take a while." We explained it as a hormonal
balance thing - that sometimes after a pregnancy
there's an imbalance and it's not going
to go away very quickly. I am sure in the
States they treat it with anti-depressants.
I told them she needed
vitamins. The only other thing I suggested
was that she be gotten up twice a day -
not in the heat of the day - and someone
go with her for a walk. Sunlight can play
a positive role in helping depression and
she'd been in the tent for 10 months with
no light. Those were my recommendations.
I wish I had a chance
to talk with them again. I didn't know how
they perceived these things I was saying.
We talked to this one guy in camp and he
assured us that these kinds of problems
carry no stigmas, that these camps and families
were very close knit and that we could talk
to the husband about these things.
It's also interesting
because I'd never seen a case like that
or made that diagnosis before. So here was
something for me that was as exotic as coming
across a case of Typhoid fever.
Given all of the
challenges of treating local people - and
the expedition team - would you recommend
this kind of experience to your colleagues?
I would tell them you
can't be too afraid of what you might find.
Ninety-nine percent of what you'll find
are things you're already familiar with.
And two cases of things I'd never come across
before in my practice I was able to diagnose
and treat.

What has been
the most challenging part of this experience?
Finding my role was
a challenge - to find a way to both fit
in as a team member, side by side with 24-year
old students in the excavation pit, but
also, when I needed to, be professional
as the older person for advice - medical
and otherwise. It was a very interesting
balancing act
I found the physical
work much more challenging than I anticipated.
I really did not know how much work was
involved in collecting specimens. I knew
about the little things - brushes, dental
tools, hammers - but not about pickaxes,
chisels, tunneling, trenching.
The heat added to it.
The first ten days were hard for me but
after that I got used to it. I have been
in Death Valley, but nothing was as hot
as what I experienced in Gadafawa.
What has been
one of the highlights of the trip for you?
One of my most favorite
times is when I go to bed at night and have
time to myself. The sky is incredible. That's
what I'll miss most. I'll also miss the
team camaraderie. Despite the fact I wanted
to kill people occasionally, it will be
very emotional to split up at the end.
Would you go on
another expedition if you had the chance?
Absolutely. A thing
like this pushes your limits. You learn
about what you're capable of - and you learn
about other people in the world. I really
knew I didn't know what I was getting into,
but it was a lot more than I anticipated.
The expedition caused me to work harder
than I ever worked at anything in my life-
physically and mentally.
My love of adventure
travel is part of why I wanted to come -
but the biggest reason was the chance to
be part of a scientific team, be a part
of the discovery. I'm very aware of the
fact that collecting the specimens and the
travel are just the beginning. I know for
years papers will be coming out of this,
mounted skeletons will be made of the new
finds and put on display. To me that is
what is so exciting - to be part of the
beginning of this long process.
*All medical supplies
for the 2000 Expedition to Niger were donated
by West Suburban Medical Center.
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