The Right to Look Human
Mark G. Shrime, MD, MPH When every store in the market sells cigarettes, plastic baubles, T-shirts, household goods, and Chinese-made bras, demand for your wares is exquisitely sensitive. Do enough people come past your door, for example? And are you able, through sheer force of personality, to lure enough of them into your store? As unfortunate as it is, we’ve become pretty comfortable with the fact that appearance correlates with income. So it should come as no surprise that when Amidu’s face started swelling, the flow of traffic to his plastic plate shop decreased. Eventually he had to close his shop. After all, there were enough plate sellers without distorting (and pungent) ameloblastomas on their faces. This past summer, I spent six weeks in West Africa with Mercy Ships, an organization that runs the largest civilian hospital ship in the world. Measuring 500 feet in length, staffed by 400 volunteer crew from 35 different nations, the Africa Mercy, its flagship, has six operating rooms, four wards, a CT scanner, and much of the infrastructure needed for complex head and neck surgery. As a result, six weeks on the ship becomes an unholy litany of head and neck pathology. Ameloblastomas, lipomas, hemangiomas, neurofibromas, cystic hygromas—these are the bread and butter of surgery, repeated week after week, and interspersed with the occasional tonsillar tumor causing airway embarrassment or Burkitt’s lymphoma leading to accusations of witchcraft. These are not just surgeries. Yes, ameloblastomas have malignant potential. Yes, cystic hygromas can impinge on airways and alimentary tracts. But more than that, every tumor in that litany is a person; every surgery in those six weeks was a story, and each patient’s return to humanity was another shop that didn’t have to close, another child that didn’t have to be accused of witchcraft. Everyone has the right to look human—and it is this that keeps me coming back every year. My thanks to the American Academy of Otolaryngology—Head and Neck Surgery Humanitarian Efforts Committee and to Alcon Foundation for facilitating the grant that partially funded this mission.
Mark G. Shrime, MD, MPH
When every store in the market sells cigarettes, plastic baubles, T-shirts, household goods, and Chinese-made bras, demand for your wares is exquisitely sensitive. Do enough people come past your door, for example? And are you able, through sheer force of personality, to lure enough of them into your store?
As unfortunate as it is, we’ve become pretty comfortable with the fact that appearance correlates with income. So it should come as no surprise that when Amidu’s face started swelling, the flow of traffic to his plastic plate shop decreased. Eventually he had to close his shop. After all, there were enough plate sellers without distorting (and pungent) ameloblastomas on their faces.
This past summer, I spent six weeks in West Africa with Mercy Ships, an organization that runs the largest civilian hospital ship in the world. Measuring 500 feet in length, staffed by 400 volunteer crew from 35 different nations, the Africa Mercy, its flagship, has six operating rooms, four wards, a CT scanner, and much of the infrastructure needed for complex head and neck surgery.
As a result, six weeks on the ship becomes an unholy litany of head and neck pathology. Ameloblastomas, lipomas, hemangiomas, neurofibromas, cystic hygromas—these are the bread and butter of surgery, repeated week after week, and interspersed with the occasional tonsillar tumor causing airway embarrassment or Burkitt’s lymphoma leading to accusations of witchcraft.
These are not just surgeries. Yes, ameloblastomas have malignant potential. Yes, cystic hygromas can impinge on airways and alimentary tracts. But more than that, every tumor in that litany is a person; every surgery in those six weeks was a story, and each patient’s return to humanity was another shop that didn’t have to close, another child that didn’t have to be accused of witchcraft. Everyone has the right to look human—and it is this that keeps me coming back every year.
My thanks to the American Academy of Otolaryngology—Head and Neck Surgery Humanitarian Efforts Committee and to Alcon Foundation for facilitating the grant that partially funded this mission.