(Above, a view of a Aboriginal community in Queensland, Australia.)Despite the fact blood was dripping and forming a small pool on the floor this girl did not seem too fazed. Even as the tiny lake of blood was clotting she was more interested in what I was doing as I weighed a baby.
I called over to the health care worker to elevate the leg, put a pad on and apply some pressure to the wound.
Within a minute or two I could have a look at the wound. Not too bad but would need some sutures. I told the girl and she shrugged and said 'OK.' After contacting her mum I prepared my equipment.
The girl was curious as to what was occurring. Most people become quite squeamish looking at needles that will soon be sticking in them. The injections into the wound can be quite painful.
Most of the aboriginal kids are fairly quiet in the clinic. Often you know they are more boisterous outside. On the way to the shop I often encounter small groups or big packs of them and they seem more comfortable talking away from the clinic. Fair enough really, the clinic usually means pain. Outside is their domain.
As I prepare my sterile field, pour out various solutions and syringe up some lignocaine I ask the girl about school. She tells me the classes she likes ( most of them ) and the ones she is not too keen on (maths).
I ask if she plans to keep going with the studies when she is 16. I am thrilled to learn she is wanting to continue her education. If anything can help with improving the lives of aboriginal people education is definitely one of them.
We discuss the various options and how to gain assistance, both financially and peer support. Most of the kids respond to the question, 'What do you want to do after school?' with a blank look or they want to be a sports star, some want to be mechanics or occasionally a teacher. I don't recall any saying they want to be a nurse ( commonly known as 'sister', never mind if you are male or female).
I am a little shocked when she tells me she wants to be a lawyer. It is the first time I have heard an aboriginal kid express law as an interest. I am thrilled and try to offer some support. The usual stuff like , 'good on you.' 'Keep up your studies' and 'talk to your teachers about improving your chances to be accepted for law.' She nods and smiles. She is way ahead of me. Wheels are in motion.
As I am suturing the wound she tells me about her brothers, her friends, teachers, music she likes, etc etc etc. She is a real chatterbox and it is lovely to hear.
She is so positive. It is a real breath of fresh air. A little part of me wants to think with more girls like this the future of indigenous people can improve.
Before she leaves I provide the usual information relevant to sutures and wound care. Her friends come into the clinic now all the needles and 'yucky' bits have been covered.
I ask her why she wants to do law. With a flat deadpan manner she responds, as if it is the most normal reason in the world,
'So I can get my dad out of prison.'
I called over to the health care worker to elevate the leg, put a pad on and apply some pressure to the wound.
Within a minute or two I could have a look at the wound. Not too bad but would need some sutures. I told the girl and she shrugged and said 'OK.' After contacting her mum I prepared my equipment.
The girl was curious as to what was occurring. Most people become quite squeamish looking at needles that will soon be sticking in them. The injections into the wound can be quite painful.
Most of the aboriginal kids are fairly quiet in the clinic. Often you know they are more boisterous outside. On the way to the shop I often encounter small groups or big packs of them and they seem more comfortable talking away from the clinic. Fair enough really, the clinic usually means pain. Outside is their domain.
As I prepare my sterile field, pour out various solutions and syringe up some lignocaine I ask the girl about school. She tells me the classes she likes ( most of them ) and the ones she is not too keen on (maths).
I ask if she plans to keep going with the studies when she is 16. I am thrilled to learn she is wanting to continue her education. If anything can help with improving the lives of aboriginal people education is definitely one of them.
We discuss the various options and how to gain assistance, both financially and peer support. Most of the kids respond to the question, 'What do you want to do after school?' with a blank look or they want to be a sports star, some want to be mechanics or occasionally a teacher. I don't recall any saying they want to be a nurse ( commonly known as 'sister', never mind if you are male or female).
I am a little shocked when she tells me she wants to be a lawyer. It is the first time I have heard an aboriginal kid express law as an interest. I am thrilled and try to offer some support. The usual stuff like , 'good on you.' 'Keep up your studies' and 'talk to your teachers about improving your chances to be accepted for law.' She nods and smiles. She is way ahead of me. Wheels are in motion.
As I am suturing the wound she tells me about her brothers, her friends, teachers, music she likes, etc etc etc. She is a real chatterbox and it is lovely to hear.
She is so positive. It is a real breath of fresh air. A little part of me wants to think with more girls like this the future of indigenous people can improve.
Before she leaves I provide the usual information relevant to sutures and wound care. Her friends come into the clinic now all the needles and 'yucky' bits have been covered.
I ask her why she wants to do law. With a flat deadpan manner she responds, as if it is the most normal reason in the world,
'So I can get my dad out of prison.'
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