First Day

I know all first days are rough.  This one was a doozie. For those of my tender hearted friends this may be one to skip.

The good part is where I am staying.  Hope’s Inn is lovely. I have a room to myself with a bunk bed and mosquito net.  I have a shower, sink, and toilet. The best parts: I have a fan and you can put toilet paper in the potty and flush it.  I simply rejoiced! So beyond my wildest expectations. Also, Priscilla is the manager and is friendly and gracious. (DLT small group: isn’t it awesome how we just discussed Priscilla and Aquila and there role in housing missionaries, that is exactly what she does all the time with an amazing servant’s heart.) My arrival on Thursday was great and I had been able to go to the store for groceries and get my telephone registered on the way.  I slept well. Well, like a brick.

Friday morning a medical student named Nina from Germany escorted me to the hospital.  We started with morning rounds where patients from the various wards are presented and cases are discussed.  It is very difficult to understand with the Malawian accent and requires a lot of active listening. It is always hard to hear reports of patients lost.  At the end, I was introduced and then taken around the hospital. So many people and names and new places. I was then following the current Pediatrician but that day turned out to be her last.

We entered the pediatric ward and said hello to nurses and had a few questions.  She was then called to the bedside of a 1 year old. We found the frail malnourished child bundled up with her mom near by.  In unwrapping her, we found that she was not breathing. Scrambling for a bag and mask and positioning the patient we found her with massive secretions and emesis.  The OG was removed and suctioning started. Breaths were given. No heartbeat was found and I started chest compressions. We were unable to revive her. The hospital staff was surprised she had survived as long as she had.  We expressed our sympathy to the mom. No holding. No crying. No coldness-she is a mom but in a country where child mortality is high. I was the one caught off guard, not momma. She has the reality of other children, a burial, and a trip home.  I feel that I have no right to even a tear and yet, to be unable to save, or help, or even comfort, no language to communicate-I feel so incredibly small and useless and overwhelmed. 

 Next to a child with a genetic abnormality that would receive an entirely specialized level of care in the US but here we struggle to get oxygen levels high enough to safely transport for more testing.  Then to a child with nephrotic syndrome with massive edema and poorly functioning kidneys most likely secondary to a easily treated disease that was not treated in time. All of this in a communal space with kids looking on, moms cooking and washing outside.

Oh, I wish to have a bigger brain and more to offer.  I do not know how I will help but trust that God has a plan.  The mix of visiting and Malawian medical staff also create some challenges of knowing how to find a place that is helpful and not challenging and that is cohesive and supportive.