outreach clinic 1: fitzroy crossing, noonkanbah, wangkatjungka

Over the next six months, I'll be visiting the Fitzroy Valley regularly to conduct child health clinics. My first five-day trip has given me much to write about: outback characters, 360 degree horizons, isolation and the other country that seems to exist in Australia. This post focuses on a group of great people I hope to continue working with.

The Fitzroy Valley has one of the highest rates of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome Disorder (FASD) in the world. 1 in 8 children are affected. It is caused by drinking alcohol during pregnancy, which can result in the child having brain damage. Behaviour, thinking ability and performance of everyday tasks are usually affected. It is incredible that this preventable disability is so common in a first-world country, the extent was only appreciated when a study was published one year ago. There is some good news though: drinking in pregnancy is reducing, and the children can improve their thinking with appropriate therapy.

But how do you get teams of therapists to some of the most remote areas in Australia? A non-government organisation, Patches Paediatrics, is attempting this massive task. I met their team at a remote community school, and was surprised to see a physiotherapist, neuropsychologist, speech pathologist, occupational therapist and paediatrician working with the kids. The team works closely with the local community, and the whole process was very impressive. I'll meet them again next month, and I believe there's great potential for their healthcare model in rural childhood chronic disease.

For more information, have a look at this TED talk by the director of Patches Paediatrics.

My nausea-inducing ride to one of the clinics

pub conversations at fitzroy crossing

Rodney, an Aboriginal cattle ringer, proudly told me about his son’s bull-riding.

“He’ll be big in the rodeo one day.

He’ll earn good money. Maybe help me out.”

Rodney then rubs the memory of his hands. His fingers are bent and gnarled, and there are irregular bony lumps in palm. I ask him how he worked on the land with hands that had been repeatedly fractured.

“Just had to do it.

Wish I could get some money because I can’t work that well now.”

We chatted about the importance of family, then he shook my hand weakly as we parted.

last light

I was chatting with a fellow healthcare worker yesterday and learnt an interesting quirk. Watching the sunset at Cable Beach is apparently an experience that many people aspire to. Judging by our time at Cable Beach so far, this doesn't surprise me. Unfortunately, ticking this item off your bucket list can be more difficult if you suddenly approach the end of your life.

"There are people" my new friend said, "who rush to jump on a plane to Broome, despite being very sick. They deteriorate due to the slightly lower oxygen levels over a long flight, and get taken straight from the airport to the hospital. People have travelled thousands of kilometres across Australia, then died in hospital five kilometres from the Cable Beach."

back to broome

There are a few differences this time around. Six years ago, our random wanderings here involved hikes, bikes and crocodiles. Now we're back with Biscuit Boy and Rhino, who are 4 years old and 2 months old. The pull to come back to Broome has always been strong... even stronger than the intimidating task of flying 6000km with the family to an area of extreme weather and isolation. We're settling in for six months, and will hopefully reach a deeper understanding of The Kimberley.

A few happenings in the last week:
Two green tree frogs were gently relocated from our toilet to the garden.
We were invited to Dingo Joe's birthday party.
Terrence introduced me to traditional Aboriginal spear fishing.

Once again, I've been astonished by the embedded palette of colours...

Gantheaume Point