sabato 12 maggio 2012

A continuous stress

We had two Caesarean sections in the morning, but the Lord guided my hands and about 12.30 we had already finished the second C-section and both mothers and their children were in good condition. After leaving the room, full of heat and sweat, I got hit by a queue of angry patients  who were complaining that they had been told to wait with a full bladder for an ultrasound of the abdomen. Many of them were from Isiolo, which is really far away, and worried about not being able to find public transport to get back home. It therefore required a new sacrifice: after lunch, forgetting the little siesta, we began another adventure in the out-patient, trying to give the maximum attention to the problems of each. The problems we encounter here are often complicated, requiring much attention and patience. It is especially difficult with women who are unable to have children. So often there is nothing to do for them, because their problems are chronic and practically insoluble. But how to tell them that? An adoption is not accepted here. The husband is usually considered immune to sexual problems in the area, so it's always the woman to be held responsible for any type of infertility. If a woman is unable to have children, there are two options: either she becomes a second wife and has to accept that her husband has another partner to have children with (and therefore that second partner will receive far more attention), or is simply sent away (it seems like in the Old Testament!). Bearing in mind the local traditions, we know that  only men can inherit and the woman must receive the support from her husband. It means that a woman rejected because of  infertility is actually left with no chance for a happy life. Nobody is going to marry her and she has no right to inherit neither the money nor the ground from the husband who had repudiated her. The out-patient is then made ​​even more stressful by the continuous arrival of children in bad condition who often come to us when it is too late. As in the case of Joy, who had been treated for 4 days with an antibiotic syrup at the dispensary of the village: the mother was told that the child had pneumonia and that this was the reason of his panting. In fact, when Joy came to Chaaria, she had a hemoglobin level of 3 grams (his blood was almost as water). She was so collapsed that the veins were not visible and I had troubles with inserting a jugular vein cannula. A race against time began. Her blood group was 0 positive and we did not have compatible blood in the hospital. We asked the mother to donate, but she said she was pregnant again. All that remained was to find a donor elsewhere. We asked the volunteers, but nobody was 0 positive. We were therefore forced to ask Mururu (our mentally disabled friend from Buoni Figli Center) who agreed on giving his blood provided that we allow him to go home for some days. We collected the blood, but right after connecting it to the Joy’s vein, the girl passed away. We did not arrive on time. Once again, the death was stronger.
The mother’s despair gripped our hearts, but we could not stop. Other patients were waiting for our help, so we left the mother with Judith who has tried to console us while we continued with other outpatients. It was 6:30 p.m. when I decided to take a coffee. There were no more patients tonight so maybe I could go and pray with the community.
Br Beppe

Nessun commento:

Chaaria è un sogno da realizzare giorno per giorno.

Un luogo in cui vorrei che tutti i poveri e gli ammalati venissero accolti e curati.

Vorrei poter fare di più per questa gente, che non ha nulla e soffre per malattie facilmente curabili, se solo ci fossero i mezzi.

Vorrei smetterla di dire “vai altrove, perché non possiamo curarti”.

Anche perché andare altrove, qui, vuol dire aggiungere altra fatica, altro sudore, altro dolore, per uomini, donne e bambini che hanno già camminato per giorni interi.

E poi, andare dove?

Gli ospedali pubblici hanno poche medicine, quelli privati sono troppo costosi.

Ecco perché penso, ostinatamente, che il nostro ospedale sia un segno di speranza per questa gente. Non ci sarà tutto, ma facciamo il possibile. Anzi, l’impossibile.

Quello che mi muove, che ci muove, è la carità verso l’altro, verso tutti. Nessuno escluso.

Gesù ci ha detto di essere presenti nel più piccolo e nel più diseredato.

Questo è quello che facciamo, ogni giorno.

Fratel Beppe Gaido

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