I hunt for mosquito

With the semester suspended until further notice and my official Dengue kit (two thermometers and an official ministry of health pen) in hand, I joined the volun-told mass of thousands of medical students from all over Havana in the hunt for mosquitoes this week.  I am unsure of what a normal first day of mosquito-hunting should consist of, but by offerings of fresh pineapple juice and conversation from an old-cat-lady, a Cuban made mocha from a super suave bachelor who just had to get that standard Facebook self-snapped photo of him and two U.S. doctoras, I think I have a better idea.  What is abnormal about having some good laughs as I face 8 hour days/7days per week of walking door-to-door taking temperatures, looking for stagnant water in buckets and plant-holders, and oh yeah…of course reminding Cubans to make sure to change those glasses of water on the altar to Saint Lazaro?  Oh yes, I cannot forget about coming across a little turtle’s home of dirty stagnant water without wanting to disturb his cozy environment, but reminding the owner to change his water regularly…and top it with a net.  Poor little turtle, you are not to blame for the Dengue Fever epidemic.  Prolonged warm weather, extensive rain, gaping stagnant water filled pot-holes on the streets, faulty fumigation, and bad decision making are to blame.  Bright side: I will receive an official diploma accrediting my Dengue hunt, for official course work, and you know I am definitely going to frame it and place it up on a wall where it will await, until 2015, the arrival of my official medical doctorate diploma.

Groundhog Dengue Day

I never imagined going back to 1959, working as a “doctora” in a geriatrics ward in Habana, Cuba would become everyday-Dengue-Fever day, where my clinical training would be supplemented by the inhalation of asbestos and mold fibers in a basement, looking at an x-ray from 1966 or examing a CT scan on a computer similar to the one I played Oregon Trail on in the 3rd grade.  I have begun to question my decision to study in Cuba more than ever these past couple of months, throwing my hands in the air and screaming, “Where the f*&k am I?”  Although I am supposed to be in the midst of one of the most important clinical years of my medical education, some dumb ass bureaucratic decision has me becoming a specialist of Dengue Fever and/or a glorified secretary.  Glorified secretary scares me more than Dengue Fever Specialist, because the thoughts of continuing on in my life as a county secretary sent me running to Cuba in the first place.   I don’t think “Specialist of Dengue Fever” will count when I begin to apply to residency programs in the U.S., because Dengue Fever is basically non-existent in the U.S.  A long, warm summer/fall/winter with abundant rains has left a class of 97 third year medical students starving for any patient that does not have Dengue.  We are thirsty for illness.  Give us some sick patients!  I know, we should never be hoping for sick patients, but how else are we supposed to learn.  The first clinical year is supposed to lay the foundation of our career, where we learn signs and symptoms and become bad ass docs, the kind that can just look at a patient, ask a few questions and come up with a diagnosis.  Yeah…you know…wannabe “Dr. Houses.” 

I am grateful for the mental, emotional, and physical rehabilitation I have received during my holiday vacation, to feel two weeks of comfort and normalcy.  Do I stay, or should I go?  I shall return, to see what is in store for me.  Oh man…I am a glutton for punishment. But, oh wait, maybe it is not punishment buying ice cream for $0.15, drinking mojitos for $0.50, or having the satisfaction that even my new buddy/adopted street pup named Junior will not eat hairy pork fat (see...I am not alone).