S T A N F O R D MD

Winter 1999/2000

 

For Alumni
Stanford
MD

 

On the Cover

Deep Brain Stimulation: Healing Neurological Disorders. 

Cover illustration by San Francisco-based artist Jeffrey Decoster.

Stanford Medicine, published quarterly by Stanford University Medical Center, aims to keep readers informed about the education, research, clinical care and other goings on at the Medical Center.

 

 

LION MAULINGS, MALARIA, AND RABIES

Volunteer doctors need fresh skills

and a healthy dose

of self-reliance overseas.

 


BY VOLUNTEERING OVERSEAS, Drs. Sue Abkowitz-Crawford and Glen Crawford have faced medical conditions that they would not see in their Newburyport, Mass., practices. American doctors may see plenty of gunshot wounds, but probably few come upon patients with arrow wounds. In Tanzania, the Crawfords saw a case where an arrow was still fixed in a man's chest. What's more, the arrow pulsed with every beat of the man's heart -- it had settled precariously close to the patient's pulmonary artery. The couple also observed victims of lion mauling and a rare case of full-fledged rabies in a Tanzanian man. Sleeping sickness was a common malady and a serious one; patients often arrived at the hospital only after they'd started getting seizures or slipped into a coma, by which time they often had permanent brain damage.

When a doctor in the United States sees a patient with a fever, some likely diagnoses are flu, pneumonia or a urinary tract infection; but in other countries, Sue points out that her diagnostic checklist begins with malaria, typhoid and parasites. (One woman in Tanzania seemed a walking demonstration of a Murphy's Law for fevers; she not only had cerebral malaria but also typhoid fever and an abscess in her liver.) By the time people reach a doctor in much of Africa and Asia, their problems tend to be much more advanced. Patients often must travel for days to reach a hospital; some that saw the Crawfords had walked out of the Masai plain or taken a yak out of the mountains of Bhutan.

"You used your clinical judgment a lot more rather than relying on tests," says Sue, an internist. She learned to listen carefully to heart murmurs, for example, because she could not send patients for echocardiograms. And doctors diagnosed tumors by touch, with no CAT scans, ultrasounds or pathologists present. Sue also learned a new way to diagnose diabetes on her travels: Because catheters in patients' bladders were drained into bowls, ants thronged to the bowls of people with diabetes, drawn to the unabsorbed glucose.

As the orthopedist, one of Glen's jobs in Bhutan was to treat TB of the spine and joints. To drain an abscess full of bacteria pushing against the spinal cord, Glen would operate through the chest, deflating one of the lungs to reach the backbone to drain the abscess before puffing the lung back up and sewing up the patient.

In Indonesia, a man in his early 30s came to see Glen with a chondrosarcoma of the shoulder that had grown as large as a basketball and invaded the nerves of his arm, leaving no feeling in the limb. Though Glen had only reading knowledge of the procedure, he performed an amputation, removing the man's shoulder blade and collarbone as well as his arm. The surgery proved successful and Glen received a letter from the patient a few years later saying that he was doing well.

In some places where sanitation was a problem, doctors avoided surgeries because of the increased risks of infections. "In Bhutan, you had to use one hand to wave off flies," Glen recalls. Rather than perform surgery to reset a bone, doctors would often allow fractures to heal without intervening, even if that meant leaving a patient with a crooked limb. Fortunately, says Glen, people there seem more tolerant of living with a badly healed fracture than patients in Newburyport, who expect their doctors to make them as good as new. -- KJ

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