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‘Everything presents at extremes…’ – a Solomon Islands experience

- Featured Image

Pictgure: Dr Elizabeth Gallagher (second from left) with other staff and volunteers at the National Referral Hospital, Honiara

By Dr Elizabeth Gallagher, specialist obstetrician and gynaecologist, AMA ACT President

The mother lost consciousness just as her baby was born.

The woman was having her child by elective Caesarean when she suffered a massive amniotic fluid embolism and very quickly went into cardiac arrest.

We rapidly swung into resuscitation and, through CPR, defibrillation and large doses of adrenaline, we were able to restore her to unsupported sinus rhythm and spontaneous breathing.

But, with no equipment to support ventilation, treat disseminated intravascular coagulation, renal failure or any of the problems that arise from this catastrophic event, it was always going to be difficult, and she died two-and-a-half hours later.

Sadly, at the National Referral Hospital in Honiara, the capital of the Solomon Islands, this was not an uncommon outcome. Maternal deaths (both direct and indirect) average about one a month, and this was the second amniotic fluid embolism seen at the hospital since the start of the year.

I was in Solomon Islands as part of a team of four Australian practitioners – fellow obstetrician and gynaecologist Dr Tween Low, anaesthetist Dr Nicola Meares, and perioperative nurse and midwife Lesley Stewart – volunteering to help out at the hospital for a couple of weeks in October.

It was the first time I had worked in a developing country, and it was one of the most challenging, and yet satisfying, things I have ever done

Everything from the acuteness of the health problems to the basic facilities and shortages of equipment and medicines that we take for granted made working there a revelation.

The hospital delivers 5000 babies a year and can get very busy. As many as 48 babies can be born in a single 24-hour period.

The hospital has a first stage lounge and a single postnatal ward, but just one shower and toilet to serve more than 20 patients. The gynaecology ward is open plan and, because the hospital doesn’t provide a full meal service or much linen, relatives stay there round-the-clock to do the washing and provide meals.

From the beginning of our stay, it was very clear that providing training and education had to be a priority. I was conscious of the importance of being able to teach skills that were sustainable once we left.

The nature of the emergency gynaecological work, which includes referrals from the outer provinces, is that everything presents at the extremes…and late. Massive fibroids, huge ovarian cysts and, most tragically because there is no screening program, advanced cervical cancers in very young women.

When I first got in touch with doctors at the hospital to arrange my visit, I had visions of helping them run the labour ward and give permanent staff a much-needed break. But what they wanted, and needed, us to do was surgery and teaching.

To say they saved the difficult cases up for us is an understatement. I was challenged at every turn, and even when the surgery was not difficult, the co-morbidities and anaesthetic risks kept Dr Meares on her toes.

In my first two days, the hospital had booked two women – one aged 50 years, the other, 30 – to have radical hysterectomies for late stage one or early stage two cervical cancer. I was told that if I did not operate they would just be sent to palliation, so I did my best, having not seen one since I finished my training more than 12 years ago.

I also reviewed two other woman, a 29-year-old and a 35-year-old, both of whom had at least a clinical stage three cervical cancer and would be for palliation only. This consisted of sending them home and telling them to come back when the pain got too bad.

It really brought home how effective our screening program is in Australia, and how dangerous it would be if we got complacent about it.

We found the post-operative pain relief and care challenged. This was because staffing could be limited overnight and the nurses on duty did not ask the patients whether they felt pain – and the patients would definitely not say anything without being asked.

Doing our rounds in our first two days, we found that none of the post-operative patients had been given any pain relief, even a paracetamol, after leaving theatre.

We conducted some educational sessions with the nursing staff, mindful that the local team would need to continue to implement and use the skills and knowledge we had brought once we left. By the third day, we were pleased to see that our patients were being regularly observed and being offered pain relief – a legacy I hope will continue.

The supply of equipment and medicines was haphazard, and depended on what and when things were delivered. There was apparently a whole container of supplies waiting for weeks for clearance at the dock.

Many items we in Australia would discard after a single use, like surgical drains and suction, were being reused, and many of the disposables that were available were out-of-date – though they were still used without hesitation.

Some things seemed to be in oversupply, while others had simply run out.

The hospital itself needs replacing. Parts date back to World War Two. There were rats in the tea room, a cat in the theatre roof, and mosquitos in the theatre.

The hospital grounds are festooned with drying clothes, alongside discarded and broken equipment – including a load of plastic portacots, in perfect condition, but just not needed on the postnatal ward as the babies shared the bed with their mother.

It brought home how important it is to be careful in considering what equipment to donate.

The ultrasound machine and trolley we were able to donate, thanks to the John James Memorial Foundation Board, proved invaluable, as did the instruction by Dr Low in its use.

The most important question is, were we of help, and was our visit worthwhile?

I think the surgical skills we brought (such as vaginal hysterectomy), and those we were able to pass on, were extremely useful. Teaching local staff how to do a bedside ultrasound will hopefully be a long-lasting legacy. Simple things like being able to check for undiagnosed twins, dating, diagnosing intrauterine deaths, growth-restricted babies and preoperative assessments will be invaluable.

The experience was certainly outside our comfort zone, and it made me really appreciate what a great health system we have in Australia, and what high expectations we have. I want to send a big thank you to the John James Memorial Foundation for making it all possible.

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