All Change

Photo of the week. Chipazua hunting.

Highlight of the week: Each camp expresses their gratitude for our care. We are paid in game drives. Downtime of a sort. Chipazua, a celebrity leopard, treats us to a prolonged cameo.

Lowlight of the week: England lose in the semi-final - oh no - they didn't!

Maximum temperature: 26 degrees Celsius

Rainfall: Another big zero

And so the baton passes. From one athlete to another. Seamless.

It’s Olympics year. 2024. Paris. Political unrest. Naysayers. Unrealistic expectations. Hopeless cases. Stars to be made. A heady mix. A true sporting summer. And beforehand, a modern tradition. The Olympic torch. Fire from Olympia. Passed from person to person. In a relay of sorts. It’s so much more than a marathon. Not a sprint. No race for the line. But a schedule to keep. The torch spreads a message of peace, and of friendship, as it meanders on its journey.

In parallel, the ‘bat-phone’¹ passes from Doctor to Doctor, here in the Valley. Karen to Keith. Duty is offloaded neatly. Freedom and Peace is passed back in return. Keith to Karen. No more disturbed nights. Freedom to roam. The sentence is over. 3 months hard labour complete. Karen now has peace. Time to reflect. To relax and enjoy the Valley. To enjoy what Zambia has to offer.

Importantly, our friendship with Karen and Alan is unimpeached. My anxieties of falsely selling the Valley Doctor job to Karen prove unfounded. A solid and dependable friendship. This is just as well. Our Costa Rican adventure together, in January 2025, is paid for already. The baton won’t drop. True friendship has rehearsed the hand-over.

The day has come. The Rotchfords are evicted. We move into our house again. Kapani is our home. The spare room spare again. Our responsibilities begin. 3 months of sobriety. On call 24/7. Keith is now the Valley Doctor. Karen has done a remarkable job. The bar is set high. We aim to match her heady standards. We fill shoes that should be our size. We measured up for them twice before. But most doctors will relate our impostor syndrome insecurities. Week one on duty will be the final fitting.

These 4 weeks in our Valley have been oh so fruitful. Busy. Holiday? Work? You can decide. Our holidays are so often the antithesis of restful. During our NHS careers, a holiday was never a time to stop. Cycling over mountain ranges. Diving the deepest oceans. Skiing and snowboarding the double black diamonds and powder. We can rest when we’re dead. The unspoken sentiment. I would return to work after 2 weeks leave in need of a rest. Some of you have biked or adventured with us once, rarely twice, before. There is a phrase: Being Birrelled. We might start with a clear plan of a bike ride. A reasonable distance. Not too many hills. A coffee and cake stop midway around. What could possibly go wrong? Inevitably, we would take a wrong turn. Go up more than down. Start finding our own routes off road. Keith would carry both bikes uphill. We’d then push them downhill. The coffee shop would never materialise. Despair would creep in. But somehow we would find the route again. Somehow we would get back alive. Somehow in one piece. The following day, we would find ourselves cycling alone. Keith and Ginny no-mates. Word is out. Go riding with the Birrells, and you risk being Birrelled.

Today I feel as though I’ve been Birrelled. We wanted to put our 4 weeks in the valley to good use. To reach out to staff in distant camps. To get to places that we are unable to visit during our valley doctor tenure. I left all the arrangements in Keith’s capable hands. Please make sure I get a little downtime, I requested. So, he got on the blower. Reached out far and wide. Ticked off dates. Travelling north and south. No stone left unturned. One night here. 2 nights there. 9 camp visits. 228 people screened. 123 people recruited to our programme. Record books issued. Measurements made. Hypertension in spades. Some diabetes. Many unfit. Lifestyle options were discussed. Individual plans were made. Our day started at 0500. On a good day: we went out on for game drive from 0600-1000. We then worked from 1000-1530 seeing staff. Sometimes then back out on a game drive at 1600. Bed by 2100. And repeat.

At many camps we were too busy for game drives. The game had to be played without us. Bush clinic from 0600-1530. Then number crunching. Spreadsheets. Reports.

Four weeks of graft is now under our belts. Many might now want a holiday. But from today, our real responsibilities start. The health of the Valley is in our hands. We prepare for the worst but pray for some calm. A balance please of professional challenge, fulfilment, rest and recuperation.

Keith is well versed in dealing with the common or garden issues of primary care. Hum drum so to speak. I am more piqued by the odd and the truly sick. We expect to be inspired by each other’s skillsets. Synergy. Keith will hold the baton as the Valley doctor. I am the one true Kakumbi Paediatrician.

¹ The bat-phone is the doctor’s duty phone. Essential, but potentially a burden. Borne bravely. Batman has something similar, I believe.

Dazzling

Keith's office

My office

Show and Tell