After dinner on my last night as a courier, walking from the big house to pack up my little room everything sat in the right light. Rainbows of flowers in the gardens along the walkway seemed to sit perfectly on their stems. A late evening light glazed the heavy forested hillside in a golden hue. Down in the valley, fog laid on top of the river, skating down stream with the current.
Maybe that’s what it’s like when you realize you’re leaving a great place. All the pieces unite, matching up and playing off each other. As I ascended the stairs to the courier quarters, I relished in my experiences, acknowledging that it would never be the same again. I had come to rural Kentucky, made handfuls of friends, seen many births, spent countless hours in the women’s health halls, eaten poke sallet, celebrated a coon-on- log fourth of July, dug up potatoes with my hands, had a snake fall on my head, learned to sew, kicked open a piñata, - it’s endless.
As I my mind wandered through the piles of my courier experiences, I reached the top of the stairs. I look a final evening look into the wooded atmosphere. It was unmistakable, pronounced even - Wendover in all it’s glory and magic all the way to that final night.
-Amanda
Monday, August 17, 2009
Passages and roadways are frequent topics of conversation in the Appalachian Mountains of Kentucky. Whether the focus is on a washed out dirt road, the Parkway, the Spur, a path through the woods, a river, a holler, or the ATV trail, a constant reminder of the energy required to create this motion is ever present. Energy in these mountains is a limited resource. Yet it is a requirement for physical function, psychological awareness, and utility. The mountains, tall and worn, confine us to the small beautiful valleys between them.
I came to Kentucky knowing very little about midwifery, fried foods, rural health care, or Mrs. Breckinridge, and expected to learn many things related to each of these areas. This expectation was fulfilled, yet I have come away with something more: unanticipated knowledge. I now possess a deeper understanding of what a “modern’ or “scientific” 21st century birth entails. I have listened to stories of how this differs from the previous era. I have become more comfortable with the idea of cultural isolation. And I have witnessed illiteracy in America, a sight that caused my eyes to swell with tears.
I was initially startled by every toothless smile, saddened by the worn out faces of so many young women, and frustrated by the diet and lifestyle trends that have opened the flood gates of illness; particularly diabetes, hypertension, and obesity. Now however, I might not even notice the toothlessness of a smile. Instead, the focus has turned to the fog rising from the valleys, the savory taste of the terrible food, and the mysteriousness of coal mining.. I have learned what is meant by the term “strip job”, and that the definition of a house contains infinite possibilities, including once abandoned shacks and old buses, that a “toilet” can be many things, that even the most distracted students have something to give and gain, and that it is entirely possible for 13,000 people to be served by 6 emergency room beds. Not ideal, but possible.
As I sit here on Mrs. Breckinridge's front porch, listening to the rippling of the river below, I am filled with a sense of inspiration, to challenge my own expectations of comfort, and to offer service to those around me. I am moved by energy of Mrs. Breckinridge and will leave Kentucky with a small piece of the spirit Appalachia stitched into my heart.
-Elia
I came to Kentucky knowing very little about midwifery, fried foods, rural health care, or Mrs. Breckinridge, and expected to learn many things related to each of these areas. This expectation was fulfilled, yet I have come away with something more: unanticipated knowledge. I now possess a deeper understanding of what a “modern’ or “scientific” 21st century birth entails. I have listened to stories of how this differs from the previous era. I have become more comfortable with the idea of cultural isolation. And I have witnessed illiteracy in America, a sight that caused my eyes to swell with tears.
I was initially startled by every toothless smile, saddened by the worn out faces of so many young women, and frustrated by the diet and lifestyle trends that have opened the flood gates of illness; particularly diabetes, hypertension, and obesity. Now however, I might not even notice the toothlessness of a smile. Instead, the focus has turned to the fog rising from the valleys, the savory taste of the terrible food, and the mysteriousness of coal mining.. I have learned what is meant by the term “strip job”, and that the definition of a house contains infinite possibilities, including once abandoned shacks and old buses, that a “toilet” can be many things, that even the most distracted students have something to give and gain, and that it is entirely possible for 13,000 people to be served by 6 emergency room beds. Not ideal, but possible.
As I sit here on Mrs. Breckinridge's front porch, listening to the rippling of the river below, I am filled with a sense of inspiration, to challenge my own expectations of comfort, and to offer service to those around me. I am moved by energy of Mrs. Breckinridge and will leave Kentucky with a small piece of the spirit Appalachia stitched into my heart.
-Elia
Sunday, August 2, 2009
in retrospect
My summer at Wendover has ended and I am back in my home state of MA. This morning when I woke up I had the greatest impulse to throw on khaki and white, only to realize that a uniform is not required for this part of my summer. The lack of khaki and white left me standing awkwardly in front of my bureau, completely unable to dress myself.
This basic confusion may have subsided quickly, but it creates a nice metaphor for my departure from Wendover. I had such a schedule, such a daily goal, that without the structure of Frontier Nursing Service and the courier program, I find myself aimless.
I never could have imagined I would learn all that I did this summer. Of course, based on the literature regarding the service and the program, I knew I would be shadowing some health providers and doing some community service, and thus learning about healthcare and community building. But I had no idea of the magnitude of the learning, and the wide array of information I would accumulate through daily interactions, various chores, and specific circumstances.
I ended up seeing four births: three vaginal and one c-section, and each one was wildly different than the others. I was able to witness the different methods and tendencies of each midwife, as well as the varying birth plan of each mother. Obviously the c-section had very few similatrities to the other births, but even amongst the three vaginal births there were great discrepancies in the midwifery, the duration, the epidural, etc. I knew each birth would be its own, distinct moment of glory, but I didn't really know what that meant. Nor did I have any idea that I would begin to understand the delivery room lingo and jargon.
The experiences I had each day in town or in the clinics alone were enough to fill a whole summer. But the learning didn't stop there at all; the staff of FNS at Wendover provided me with a family of distinct and exceptional members. I will forever remember the converstations in the Garden House while signing out the service car, or the conversations in the kitchen over the steam from the massive dishwasher. I learned about poke sallet, about family function and dysfunction, about fondant cakes, and probably more about snakes than I'll ever (hopefully) need to know. Each person at Wendover brought to the table personality, stories and friendship. Living at Wendover was like being in a perpetual hug.
When I signed on to spend a summer in Southeastern Kentucky, I knew there would be a few other couriers there with me. And I knew, just because of the instinctual tendencies of young women, that we would beomce friendly and chatty. But I had no idea that my relationships with the other couriers would be as enjoyable as they were.
Everything I learned this summer seemed to come full circle -- things I learned from one area of my couriership frequently tied into something I was learning in another area, and lended to a greater understanding. With one birth, the midwife asked me to assit her by propping the mother's leg up and helping her through her contractions and periods of pushing. While I would have done this in the beginning of the summer, I felt much more well-equiped to do so after the Doula Training that we went through. Similarly, I began to see the same people around town or in different clinics, and it felt like we were succeeding at delivering well-rounded care and aid to the residents of Leslie County.
Not only could I take acquired knowledge from one task and apply it to another, but I started to be able to apply this acquired knowledge to my own life. On a smaller scale, I learned how to make butter at the Library camp, only to make some more at Wendover, and other such things. But on a greater scale, I learned from the people of Hyden and Leslie County. I learned the meaning of certain social graces, I learned the importance of kind interactions, I learned tolerance, I learned acceptance and I learned what 'southern comfort' really means.
-frances
This basic confusion may have subsided quickly, but it creates a nice metaphor for my departure from Wendover. I had such a schedule, such a daily goal, that without the structure of Frontier Nursing Service and the courier program, I find myself aimless.
I never could have imagined I would learn all that I did this summer. Of course, based on the literature regarding the service and the program, I knew I would be shadowing some health providers and doing some community service, and thus learning about healthcare and community building. But I had no idea of the magnitude of the learning, and the wide array of information I would accumulate through daily interactions, various chores, and specific circumstances.
I ended up seeing four births: three vaginal and one c-section, and each one was wildly different than the others. I was able to witness the different methods and tendencies of each midwife, as well as the varying birth plan of each mother. Obviously the c-section had very few similatrities to the other births, but even amongst the three vaginal births there were great discrepancies in the midwifery, the duration, the epidural, etc. I knew each birth would be its own, distinct moment of glory, but I didn't really know what that meant. Nor did I have any idea that I would begin to understand the delivery room lingo and jargon.
The experiences I had each day in town or in the clinics alone were enough to fill a whole summer. But the learning didn't stop there at all; the staff of FNS at Wendover provided me with a family of distinct and exceptional members. I will forever remember the converstations in the Garden House while signing out the service car, or the conversations in the kitchen over the steam from the massive dishwasher. I learned about poke sallet, about family function and dysfunction, about fondant cakes, and probably more about snakes than I'll ever (hopefully) need to know. Each person at Wendover brought to the table personality, stories and friendship. Living at Wendover was like being in a perpetual hug.
When I signed on to spend a summer in Southeastern Kentucky, I knew there would be a few other couriers there with me. And I knew, just because of the instinctual tendencies of young women, that we would beomce friendly and chatty. But I had no idea that my relationships with the other couriers would be as enjoyable as they were.
Everything I learned this summer seemed to come full circle -- things I learned from one area of my couriership frequently tied into something I was learning in another area, and lended to a greater understanding. With one birth, the midwife asked me to assit her by propping the mother's leg up and helping her through her contractions and periods of pushing. While I would have done this in the beginning of the summer, I felt much more well-equiped to do so after the Doula Training that we went through. Similarly, I began to see the same people around town or in different clinics, and it felt like we were succeeding at delivering well-rounded care and aid to the residents of Leslie County.
Not only could I take acquired knowledge from one task and apply it to another, but I started to be able to apply this acquired knowledge to my own life. On a smaller scale, I learned how to make butter at the Library camp, only to make some more at Wendover, and other such things. But on a greater scale, I learned from the people of Hyden and Leslie County. I learned the meaning of certain social graces, I learned the importance of kind interactions, I learned tolerance, I learned acceptance and I learned what 'southern comfort' really means.
-frances
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