Thursday, November 22, 2018
It’s the beautiful...and the ugly.
The first newborn cry...and holding the hand of the dying elderly.
The miracles...and the willingness to accept death and the fact that medicine can’t always prevent it.
It’s swinging and playing games with the neighbor kids...and giving the malnourished kid with negligent parents some life saving plummy-nut.
It’s cuddling and weighing the adorable motherless babies who come to get milk...and doing all you can for the almost-dead innocent newborn who comes in because his parents didn’t bring him in soon enough and then wrapping him up tight, putting him in a box-and closing the lid-and handing the box back to his parents.
It’s waving and yelling greetings to your friend across the mountains...and bouncing across those same mountains in the UTV with a patient in the back and an IV bag swinging from the frame- heading to another hospital.
It’s holding the scared little patient tight and feeling their heartbeat pounding in their chest...and checking for a pulse in the next one, not being able to find it, double and triple checking, calling for a second opinion and finally, telling the parents that their child has no heartbeat.
It’s talking and laughing with your friends while you drink coffee and eat bread...and doing all you can for the young patient with HIV, including providing transportation to a location where they can get the life-saving treatment, and having them refuse the help, and watching them walk out the doors toward home, knowing the patient will die.
It’s going to market and recognizing half the people and being greeted by person after person who reminds you all that you’ve done for them...and being back at home, just getting read to sit down for supper, hearing a knock on the gate, heading to clinic, and not getting back for several hours, and then repeating that same thing at 3am.
It’s sitting under the palm tree with your toes in the sand and feeling the ocean waves on your feet...and slowing unwrapping the rag that’s tied around your patients extremity and not knowing if you should expect a fresh laceration or a wound that’s been there for months and smells like death.
It’s life. It’s invigorating and exhausting. Just to clarify, we don’t see all of these things every single day but these experiences, and countless others are all things we experience. I could think of a lot more things but I’ll stop before you’re bored stiff.
Thanks once again for your prayers and support. We couldn’t do it without you.
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