What are key concepts and ideas from Chapter 1 "The Other Cancer Ward"? please use information from the book The link is attached. The chapter begins on page 14 and ends on page 41 The pdf is below, the book is called "Livingston Book, Improvising Medicine: An African Oncology Ward in an Emerging Cancer Epidemic. " Link of the pdf https://www.dukeupress.edu/Assets/PubMaterials/978-0-8223-5342-3_601.pdf I attached a screenshot of the first page of the chapter the rest of the chapter is on this link below https://www.dukeupress.edu/Assets/PubMaterials/978-0-8223-5342-3_601.pdf please cite examples from the book word by word. For instance "the oncology ward of Princess Marina Hospital (pmh), Botswana’s central referral hospital, a light breeze is blowing the curtains in the female side of the ward"

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What are key concepts and ideas from Chapter 1 "The Other Cancer Ward"?

please use information from the book The link is attached. The chapter begins on page 14 and ends on page 41

The pdf is below, the book is called "Livingston Book, Improvising Medicine: An African Oncology Ward in an Emerging Cancer Epidemic. "

Link of the pdf https://www.dukeupress.edu/Assets/PubMaterials/978-0-8223-5342-3_601.pdf

I attached a screenshot of the first page of the chapter the rest of the chapter is on this link below

https://www.dukeupress.edu/Assets/PubMaterials/978-0-8223-5342-3_601.pdf

please cite examples from the book word by word. For instance "the oncology ward of Princess Marina Hospital (pmh), Botswana’s central referral hospital, a light breeze is blowing the curtains in the female side of the ward"

 

ΟΝΕ
The Other
Cancer Ward
In the oncology ward of Princess Marina Hospital (PMH), Bo-
tswana's central referral hospital, a light breeze is blowing the cur-
tains in the female side of the ward. It is that cool pause in the morn-
ing before the dry heat settles in for the day in Gaborone, Botswana's
capital. Ellen is sitting up in her bed, dressed in her nylon, butterfly-print
nightgown, retching into a vomitus―an enormous, lidded, stainless-
steel basin. Piled on the stand next to her bed are cards, boxes of juice,
bananas, and other gifts from relatives and friends. The two pairs of
underpants and spare nightgown she laundered in the bathroom down
the hall are draped across the headboard of her bed, drying. Next to her
lies Lesego, age sixty, and a former teacher. With her enormous glasses
perched on her nose, Lesego is silently reading her Bible. This is her
fourth year as a cancer patient, and she is used to the rhythms of the
ward. She knows that soon Tiny will come, rolling the metal breakfast
cart through the aisle, pouring a tin or plastic mug of tea with milk and
sugar for each patient, and dishing out plates of motogo, a sorghum por-
ridge. It isn't a Tuesday or a Thursday, so there won't be a hard-boiled egg
and tiny mound of salt.
Across the nursing desk in the men's side of the ward sits Roger, age
twenty, whose left eye is swollen shut from a lymphoma. He is trying
with little success to drink a small carton of strawberry-flavored Ensure
(a nutritional supplement), as Mma T encourages him in that matter-
of-fact, joking way that nurses so often use to cajole their patients. A few
Transcribed Image Text:ΟΝΕ The Other Cancer Ward In the oncology ward of Princess Marina Hospital (PMH), Bo- tswana's central referral hospital, a light breeze is blowing the cur- tains in the female side of the ward. It is that cool pause in the morn- ing before the dry heat settles in for the day in Gaborone, Botswana's capital. Ellen is sitting up in her bed, dressed in her nylon, butterfly-print nightgown, retching into a vomitus―an enormous, lidded, stainless- steel basin. Piled on the stand next to her bed are cards, boxes of juice, bananas, and other gifts from relatives and friends. The two pairs of underpants and spare nightgown she laundered in the bathroom down the hall are draped across the headboard of her bed, drying. Next to her lies Lesego, age sixty, and a former teacher. With her enormous glasses perched on her nose, Lesego is silently reading her Bible. This is her fourth year as a cancer patient, and she is used to the rhythms of the ward. She knows that soon Tiny will come, rolling the metal breakfast cart through the aisle, pouring a tin or plastic mug of tea with milk and sugar for each patient, and dishing out plates of motogo, a sorghum por- ridge. It isn't a Tuesday or a Thursday, so there won't be a hard-boiled egg and tiny mound of salt. Across the nursing desk in the men's side of the ward sits Roger, age twenty, whose left eye is swollen shut from a lymphoma. He is trying with little success to drink a small carton of strawberry-flavored Ensure (a nutritional supplement), as Mma T encourages him in that matter- of-fact, joking way that nurses so often use to cajole their patients. A few
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