Post #1: Clementine:
This past week, amidst the slew of kids with their usual lacerations, infections and fractures, one patient really stood out ----- Clementine.
She is just 14 and presented with a monstrous tumor involving her knee and lower thigh. Almost certainly this is a malignancy which will eventually take her life, but with the rudimentary tests and exams we could perform here, it appeared for now that the cancer was confined to the leg.
Clementine's big problem was the pain- severe, unrelenting pain that made her miserable. She couldn't sleep and she couldnt walk; she had been to the big hospital in the capitol city, Kigali, and apparently was told to go home because there was nothing to be done for her.
When I met her, she wouldn't even look up at me (nor at anyone else) and was obviously very depressed and hopeless.
Her mother pleaded with us, "Wasn't there anything we could do?" As a parent myself, I could only imagine her pain - wishing she could take the sickness on herself to spare her child, yet being so helpless to even relieve her extreme suffering.
All I could offer was an amputation. Her entire leg would have to be removed, very close to the hip, and still, her cancer was likely incurable. After very little conversation and deliberation among the family members present, they asked me to proceed- Clementine's pain was just too excruciating, and she desperately needed some relief.
Clementine's big problem was the pain- severe, unrelenting pain that made her miserable. She couldn't sleep and she couldnt walk; she had been to the big hospital in the capitol city, Kigali, and apparently was told to go home because there was nothing to be done for her.
When I met her, she wouldn't even look up at me (nor at anyone else) and was obviously very depressed and hopeless.
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| Clementine before the operation |
Her mother pleaded with us, "Wasn't there anything we could do?" As a parent myself, I could only imagine her pain - wishing she could take the sickness on herself to spare her child, yet being so helpless to even relieve her extreme suffering.
All I could offer was an amputation. Her entire leg would have to be removed, very close to the hip, and still, her cancer was likely incurable. After very little conversation and deliberation among the family members present, they asked me to proceed- Clementine's pain was just too excruciating, and she desperately needed some relief.
Thankfully, she did well with the operation. What surprised me and lightened my heart even more than the successful operation was the complete change in Clementine's appearance after the surgery - she became a beautiful young lady!
Instead of looking down when I came to examine her, she began looking up at me, her smile simply beaming. Her attitude became strong, and another girl emerged; The pain of recovery was nothing it seemed. She quickly began the work of learning to walk with her crutches, but best of all, that look of pain and depression in her eyes was now replaced with a sparkle. No matter that she had been disfigured; she was now going to move ahead with her life.
Post #2: "The Kids"
Instead of looking down when I came to examine her, she began looking up at me, her smile simply beaming. Her attitude became strong, and another girl emerged; The pain of recovery was nothing it seemed. She quickly began the work of learning to walk with her crutches, but best of all, that look of pain and depression in her eyes was now replaced with a sparkle. No matter that she had been disfigured; she was now going to move ahead with her life.
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| Clementine now with her beautiful smile. Such a joy to see! |
Post #2: "The Kids"
One of the fun things about working at a rural, District
Hospital like Kibogora Hospital is, since I am the only surgeon here, I really get to know my
patients very closely. By necessity, I must usually rely solely on my patients' stories and my
examimation to make decisions before and after their operations - no "MRI's" or other fancy tests to do around here to help make a diagnosis. It's like going back to 1950's medicine in many ways, so you can just call me Marcus Welby, M.D. if you want! (Ha ha - Linda threw that in - don't know if I could really hope to be as nice as old Dr. Welby, but anyway, hopefully you get the point that the medicine is more personal, and less reliant on machines and computerized technology out here.)
With all that
listening and touching, a strong bond deveops- especially if I end up actually
helping them- haha! Often times, I am honored and humbled to realize I have become like a family member. As I try to communicate with my new "relatives", the extended members of my new family enjoy laughing at my
stumbling attempts at Kinyarwanda and even try help me with proper
pronunciation, which even makes it all funnier.
My younger patients are almost always at first deathly afraid
of me, since rumors abound here that Mazungus (white foreigners) like to eat children! Many will scream in
terror when they first see me looming near their bed, and once you know the children-eating rumor, their reaction is certainly most understandable! I would scream if a man-eater was looming over my bed, too! But, after they have had
their operation, and especially when they start to feel better, they begin to trust me and their cute, mischievous sides start to emerge. They soon begin cutting up and calling out for Muganga Tim to come see them when I enter the
ward.
Often, when the day is ending and twilight falls, I
like to take a few
moments before going home and just stroll around
outside the wards, taking things in, not really as a doctor with a therapeutic
agenda but more like a visiting relative or friend. At that time of day, the
atmosphere at Kibigora becomes magical- a backdrop of hills and lake, the green
hues mixing with purple and mistiness, the light sweet fragrance of loquat
trees -
it all feels like a beautiful dream.
Also at this time, patients with their families
huddle together in quiet conversation as they share their evening meals,
sitting outside on the concrete porches. As the kids give me their laughter,
smiles and waves, the burdens of my day's hard work begin to lift and melt away, and I find a
smile on my own face and gratitude in my heart for this work God has given me to do.
I thought I'd share a few pictures of some of my cute kids.......each has become dear to me, even as I dearly miss my own children (Hannah, Stephen, Ruth and Sam) who are spread out across the miles.
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| The"gang" |
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| Became good friends in the hospital |
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| Paralyzed from a fall initially but now walking! |
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| Osteomyelitis- "I love to color!" |
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| Brother cut his foot with machete |
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| Broke his femur |
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| Burned in a house fire |
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| Recovering from an abscess |
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| Recovering from severe osteomyelitis |
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| An unknown mass on the face |
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| Broke both thigh bones! |
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