In Port Loko

February 6, 2015 – In Port Loko, at this hilarious sort of fantasy-camp for relief workers set up by (who else?) the Danes. Thrice-purified potable water, electricity, wi-fi, showers, air-conditioned tents, three meals a day, and laundry service. It’s really kind of obscene, except the vibe is so good. And we were welcomed by the charming, young, bearded, slightly humorless Danish receptionist with the compliment that “we always love having PiH people here, because they are always so positive.” Well – I hope so.

We drove up here in a bus (see map) over an excellent road – the 75 miles takes three hours mostly because of traffic getting through and leaving Freetown. The morning was spent on an almost-2-hour simulation in the mock ETU, in full PPE. We were presented with five scenarios – the disoriented and combative patient, the self-medicating patient, the relatively stable patient, the patient in septic/hypovolemic (low body water) shock, the deceased patient, the recovered (!) patient. It was actually reasonably bearable to be in the suit that long (we were wearing the lightest of the available suits today), and, again, the work seemed eminently doable. Tomorrow, we get our first exposure to an actual ETU, with around 25 patients.

The epidemic is waning, as I’ve been saying – that is, it is waning countrywide. However, there are still “hot spots,” and we are in one of them here. I believe the unit actually has more patients in it this week than it did last (although a far cry from the 100 patients it was built for). So an overall decline does not mean a resolution everywhere.

By the way, a number of those Salonean heros I spoke of in the abstract in my first post were in our class. One of them particularly made an impression – a woman who seemed tough to the point of being off-putting, until she burst into a huge guffaw, which she did from time to time. (Like when she was flirting with one of my colleagues, a 6-foot-3, 30-something nurse who somehow projects this perfect combination of manliness and boyishness. He was very, very popular at the training!) She’s been working in ETUs for 5 or 6 months, and not just for 4 weeks at a time like us. When she demonstrated putting on and taking off PPE ("donning and doffing," as it is universally referred to here), you knew it wasn’t something she’d just learned. I don’t know if the toughness was something she’s had all her life or something that’s developed over the past half year. It was somehow reassuring….

A report from the real ETU tomorrow.

The camp.

The camp at sunset.