July 26, 2012
Small Steps to a Solution
By Sheena Khanna
When people are asked why they like traveling, they often reply, “to gain perspective.” This can sometimes seem like a vague, cop-out answer that saves them from having to explain any more. But it’s not. In reality, there is a lot of meaning to that statement. Whether it’s appreciating something as simple as having a hot shower or something more profound like not having to worry about where the next meal is coming from, traveling truly teaches us important lessons in terms of what to be grateful for on an individual level.
But traveling can help us gain perspective on a higher level, too. Most of us on this study abroad course at Oxford have a pre-medicine emphasis in our studies at USC, and many have the end goal of becoming doctors. For me at least, when I’m at USC shadowing doctors, I picture myself in their situations one day—showing up to work, taking care of patients, completing administrative duties, and also juggling my family life at home. It’s very easy for me to focus on what my own lifestyle will be like, and I forget about the other 7 billion people in this world.
But traveling—studying abroad here in the UK—really reminds me of how much else is out there. There are other ways to live my life, other types of people to serve, other whole countries in need. It seems almost selfish, then, to simply be worrying about myself, when my eyes are opened daily to more groups of people who are suffering, more aspects of a certain disease that have yet to be tackled, and more partnerships that are being forged in order to solve problems that require global cooperation.
On one hand, it’s easy to feel hopeless and say, “forget it, there are too many problems in the world, I’m not going to be the one to solve them, let me just go and live my own life and be happy.” And then you dismiss all of those people in need and just get a job somewhere and only worry about whoever appears in the clinic that day. But a lot of aspiring physicians these days (at least within the people I’ve encountered at USC) seem to mention that they’d like to travel abroad and serve as international physicians. That, to me, is promising.
I realize that not a lot of people are going to devote their entire careers to global medicine by moving to a third-world country in Africa. That sort of individual, who is willing to devote his entire life to his cause, is rare but amazing. Ultimately, the rest of us want to have our experience in that arena but then move back to the comforts of home and enjoy life. (Please don’t be offended if that doesn’t apply to you, I realize it’s a generalization. But I feel like deep down inside, that blanket statement actually covers a lot of us, whether we choose to admit it at this point or not.) However, our efforts-to-be are admirable too, if we can make them count. It struck me today that the ways to do this are not all as profound as we may think they have to be.
Today, Dr. Peter Sullivan of the Oxford University Department of Pediatrics gave us a lecture on nutrition in children in less developed countries. It centered on iron deficiency, vitamin A deficiency, and iodine deficiency. What struck me the most was how relatively simple these ailments are to cure. Pills of iron, large annual injections of vitamin A for children, and iodized salt are some of the solutions that were mentioned, and all were much more affordable than, say the drug cocktails needed to treat HIV. For some ailments, the exact cause is not yet known or there is no good treatment that has been developed yet. But for these three problems, we know exactly what the causes are and how to treat them. What’s more, the world definitely has the resources to combat these problems. If that’s the case, if we have the ability to solve these problems, then the real question is: why don’t we?
Some say that these problems are “small” in comparison to HIV, malaria, and tuberculosis. They don’t garner enough prestige to be worried about as those bigger issues do. Others say that people just don’t know, don’t think about these issues, and that’s why they don’t get addressed. So if we are part of the lucky few who do know about this problem that is out there and has great potential to be solved, then wouldn’t it be a great accomplishment if we all came together and solved it? That’s where I say we, as future doctors, can step in.
Global health is about more than just the delivery of healthcare. It’s about the organization of it, too. We need to find the people who care about nutrition, people who are willing to jump on the bandwagon—even if it’s just for a little while in the broad scope of their careers—and work as a team in an ongoing effort. Imagine: if each of us dreams of volunteering abroad as a physician for three weeks, and we coordinate it so that we all go to a certain village in succession, with just twenty of us we can provided continued care for over a year. That’s all it takes: twenty people with the same goal, but in a coordinated effort.
We could each do our time in that small village in Africa, administering vitamin A injections or distributing iron pills and salts. We could make our suggestions on how to fortify their foods. Even if we each did something small, it would all add up, and we could leave there having significantly improved the nutrition situation, just by persistence. In my opinion, that seems better than each of us running our own individual efforts against malnutrition. With everyone aspiring to contribute but no one willing to devote his or her entire life, it seems like a viable solution. And, it’s quite feasible. Once the nutritional deficiencies have been addressed, the stage will be set to address more severe problems. Taking action in small pieces shouldn’t be underrated, because if you look back after a while you’ll see that the progress you’ve made is a lot bigger than the tiny steps you took to do it. That’s the perspective I’ve gained.
Sheena Khanna in New College, Oxford University. Photo by Gabby Yee.
Sheena Khanna is a junior majoring in Neuroscience from Oak Brook, Illinois.