Nimeshukuru

I am grateful.

So far this week has been a whirlwind of emotions. From smiles to tears, I never thought I would experience so many powerful things at the age of 19. As I began my last few days in the Children’s Ward, I was so excited to see Dandi, a child admitted with severe malaria, anemia, and pneumonia, being discharged. He was the most lethargic baby I had ever seen, refusing to even open his eyes, and here he was sitting up and clapping his hands. I truly witnessed a miracle. Rounds continued with several more discharges, and I was elated. I returned home to do laundry—another new talent I have developed. I scrubbed, rinsed, and hung my clothes to dry on the line all while some chickens followed me around.

I'm bringing him home with me

After lunch, we made our way to the Andrew Junior Academy for orphaned children, which was a beautiful 15 minute walk through the hills of Migori. From the moment we arrived, the students’ excitement was overwhelming. They crowded the barred windows screaming and waving before storming out of the classrooms to greet us. A fellow volunteer, Jenny, got them to say “I love you!” and sing a Swahili song about how all sins are equal in God’s eyes (very smart children). We then were invited to enjoy some sodas with the preschool teacher and learn more about the school. She informed us that 178 orphans share 2 latrines at the academy and live with their guardians throughout Migori. The 8 teachers are all volunteers that are trained but not yet absorbed by the government due to job shortages. Much of the funding was provided by the school’s headmaster out of his pocket. WOWZA. The children are taught English, math, Swahili, music, social studies, science, and have lots of play time outside. Unfortunately, the school cannot afford to feed all the students, so they return home for meals at noon. I was able to give all of my pencils and remaining toothbrushes (thank you Mommy) to the preschool teacher who would distribute them to the classrooms.

As we walked back outside, the teachers released the students back outside in a stampede and the mania began. I took over 100 pictures of the children as they surrounded us because they were so amused by my camera, though they rarely smiled at the camera directly. I put out my hands for high fives, and the children immediately started touching my skin and grabbing my hands. Who knew my pasty skin would be so interesting? It was so difficult to say goodbye, but I knew the children had to return to class where they could learn even more! The experience as a whole moved me to tears. It was amazing to communicate with the kiddos without speaking words. Their happiness shined bright through the hardship they encountered at home. I felt so grateful, not only for all that I have been given at home with a supportive family and many loving friends, but also to have met these beautiful children. Their strength with continue to inspire me every day.

In opposition, Tuesday was a nightmare. Rounds began normally with many new patients to learn about. As Dr. Otonga and I were assessing a young boy with malaria, another patient’s mother approached us. Dr. Otonga stopped in his tracks and walked over to the 7-month-old baby girl’s bed. He grabbed her by the arm and swiftly walked into the office while all the other patients in the ward gathered at the connecting windows. We watched as he attempted to resuscitate the baby with chest thrusts and hooked her up to oxygen. His techniques were nothing like I had been taught. I stood frozen with terror, my heart in my stomach. I knew immediately that the child was not healthy, but she had shown improvement over the 5 days she had been in the hospital.

Patience, the baby girl, was admitted with severe dehydration and malnutrition and tested positive for HIV. The mother informed us that she had stopped feeding when she got sick. In other words, the woman stopped feeding her child, as her condition worsened. I looked into the baby’s eyes praying, no pleading, that she wouldn’t give up. I heard her mother crying faintly in the background as the life drained from her eyes. There is a very good chance that I was the last person she saw here on Earth. I stood with a blank look on my face until another student walked up and asked what was happening. We walked out of the ward and I immediately started crying hysterically. The head nurse, Awiti, pulled me into her office to hold me and thank me for my compassion for the patients. I was devastated.

As I reflect on the event, it is difficult for me to accept that the hospital officials tried their hardest to save this baby’s life. I understand that there are ups and downs in the world of medicine, but every life deserves the best treatment possible. If we were in the States, this baby would have been in the Intensive Care Unit, monitored 24/7 and hooked up to machines to save her life. It pains me that the doctors here are so accustomed to the death of their patients that they are able to give up the fight. They put on their game faces and continue the day as usual—a strength I have not yet developed. I am comforted by the fact that Patience no longer must live in constant pain and suffering.

Now, I want to know how I can help this from happening to other innocent lives in Migori. So many people have attempted to comfort me by saying, “It happens.” It shouldn’t happen. People cannot die because of the poor communication, lack of proper treatment, or insufficient resources at this hospital. I have been reminded of the delicacy of life and will carry this experience with me for the rest of my life.

We're blood siblings

On a brighter note, even more patients were discharged this morning during rounds. Furthermore, Collins has improved tremendously!! The doctors are still concerned about his red blood cell count and anemia, but he is finally able to act like a normal 11-year-old boy. I could tell by the strength of his high-five today that he was feeling better than ever. He even squeaked out a few smiles when I looked over at him from across the room, as he practiced walking around. His case is just another miracle at St. Joseph’s Mission Hospital. At a place where so much death occurs, it was easy for me to forget the happiness of so many children being cured under such terrible conditions. For this, I am very grateful.