Whatever You Do For the Least of These

Monday, March 26, 2012  Day 17

“For I was hungry and you gave me food…”             Matthew 25:35

I have so many many thoughts racing through my mind right now that I feel like I should’ve been jotting things down all day.

This morning was a normal hospital day, except that before we stared rounding we said goodbye to a very tearful Lorena. She and Dr. Karen left for Freetown today to pick up Jenny, Steph and Ali, and even though it was sad to say goodbye, I’m still very excited to see the girls!

Today we decided to switch things up a bit so Phillip covered the ped’s ward and I took the women’s. I am happy to report that the lady who received Phillip’s blood donation was stable and doing very well. I sent a lady with ascites for her second paracentesis- I’m unsure if it will really help with anything other than making her symptoms more bearable, but we have no treatment for hepatitis so I have to continue with what we can do. The surgical patient that I spoke of earlier from Freetown that has the open wound in her pelvis is worsening. I do not think her strength will last much longer, but her daughter seems to be very hopeful.

On the ped’s ward, all my patients from the weekend are still stable! Thank goodness. Phillip did get a new patient who was temporarily placed in a private room in the back of the ward. When we entered the room, I noticed a small radio propped up on the edge of the bed. Over the noisy cries that are the peds ward, I could hear the voice of Josh Groban singing “You raise me up”. I sat on the edge of the bed and held out my arm towards the small 6 year old. Most of the time, they don’t shake my hand, but instead stare at my strange white skin or scream out in tears because the last “white” stuck them with a needle. To my great surprise the child sprang up and wrapped her tiny arms around my waist in a big hug! It absolutely made the rest of my hospital work totally worth it!

Before leaving the wards for lunch, I decided to make a stop to check in on the Alpha children. The last time I was there, a proud “Mami”came rushing up to me showing me her “pitkins”. There were two older children, each of who were holding an infant- a tiny set of twins!! They were absolutely adorable. Both were being treated for malnourishment, but it was obvious one was flourishing more than the other (which I’m told is also typical of twins here.) As we were visiting with Tira yesterday, she made mention of a cousin of hers who had twins in the alpha ward. She said she went to visit them, but that one of the twins had died. I thought it must have been a mistake. She couldn’t have been talking of the same set of twins. I’d just seen them. I didn’t want to believe it, so to be certain I decided to check for myself.

I greet the nurse. “Where are the twins?” I ask. She looks at me and points to a child alone in a bed. “Here is the one. WE lost the other on Saturday,” she responds. My heart dropped. I must have heard wrong. It cannot be. I look over at the Mami and with only the look in her eyes, I could tell it was true. I recalled the wailing Saturday night. My heart broke. I watched the woman as she collected her things. The second twin was now strong enough to go home, she had just been waiting on her sister to get well enough to join her. The whole atmosphere of the ward seemed to have transformed. On previous visits the mothers were very happy- all smiling and showing their pitkins as if saying, “Look at mine! Look at mine!” But not today. Today things were much darker.

I wished them well and then walked away to go eat my lunch while I tried to forget about the news.

I have a group of about 4-5 girls that have learned my lunch routine. Every day for the last week or so, they have visited me. They come to Bud and Judy’s front porch and climb on the bench to press their faces to the screen window as the stretch their necks to see if anyone is inside. We can hear their whispers followed by snickering giggles. Eventually a “helloooo” and “where is An-gel-a?” I go outside “Where is Phil-lip?” they ask. “Phil-lip is sleeping,” I tell them. They giggle and think it is funny that he and Bud nap on the couches during the hot day. Soon the questions begin and they either decided to count my freckles or plant my hair. They are amazed with our hair and it sometimes becomes a game to them to just pat my head. My watch beeps and they ask what time it is. “2:00, “ I tell them “Time to go to work. We will meet tomorrow.” “Tomorrow!” they respond as they run down the hill.

I join Dr. Tom in clinic while Phillip goes to teach the nursing students about genetics and when he is done, we switch. The students seem so eager to learn and to my surprise they actually understood the blood groups by the time I left. I think they really loved the clay models. We ended up making a game of it- one person was the donor, one the recipient and each had to express their “antigen” while a third “antibody” person decided whether the recipient could accept the donation. I was a lot of fun. I may have enjoyed it more than them in fact!!

After dinner tonight, we went for our usual slow stroll back to Bud and Judy’s. We were sitting in the living room in silence each engulfed in our own work. In the distance I hear the leaves rustle and then the scattering of little feet followed by an “An-gel-a”. I close my laptop and walk to the door. “Where is Phil-lip?” The familiar voices always ask. “He’s scared of the dark, “ I reply. As usual they snicker and I can hear Phillip laughing through the window as well. “We have come to see if you have for us any mango? We have no chop (dinner). Do you have for us a mango?”

I’m silenced. I can’t get the words to come out. Finally I stutter, “I have no mango.” They ask again. My heart sinks into my stomach, but I literally have nothing to give them. I look back at the door half expecting Judy or Phillip or Bud to come running out to help me whisk the children in the house so that we can properly feed them, but I am left with nothing- no words and a dumb look on my face. My jaw won’t move. I can’t even find words to tell them I’m sorry. Finally, I again disappointedly say, “I have no mango.” The tears are building up and I find it hard to swallow, but the children just flash a big bright smile and say, “Okay we see you tomorrow,” and again off they go- as if nothing ever happened. As if they were just so used to going to bed hungry. That thought made me even sadder.

My heart is still breaking. All I can think of is the scripture that keeps repeating in my head:

“Whatever you do for the least of these, you have done for me…”           

Sleep will not come easy tonight.