I am a nurse in the
Béré Adventist Hospital in Chad Africa.
But there are days where I don’t feel like a nurse and I just want to
give up. I want to scream and yell at
the parents of my patients, then walk out the door without looking back. I want
to take their child from them, and tell them they are unfit to be a parent. But if I did that for every child, soon I would
be running an orphanage. And really could
I do much better than them with what they’ve been given?
Chad Africa is a hard place to live. With death being so common, “survival of the
fittest” is underlining attitude here.
Parents have lots of children because many of their children will die
before reaching the age of two. More
children means more mouths to feed, but also means more help in the fields.
Working at the nutrition center and seeing so many
malnourished children I couldn’t understand why they were not feeding their
kids. The parents didn’t seem to be
lacking in food when you looked at them, but their child was skin and bones or
plum with edema from lack of protein.
It’s so hard not to jump to conclusions and judge these people. The kids could be getting food, but because
of parasites they might not be getting the nutrition they need. Also malaria can cause kids to lose a lot of
weight and they might not be able to gain the weight back after having
malaria. But we also had a ten year old
child at the nutrition center that weighed 8 kilograms and was so malnourished
he couldn’t walk; all because his mom wouldn’t feed him. Apparently she was mad that her husband for
loving his second wife more and took her anger out on her son. How can
a mother do that to her child? How
skinny does the child have to get before they seek help? What is stopping them from getting the help
they need, especially when the help is free? I just don’t understand. I can’t describe the feelings of holding a
child who is so skinny I can see all his bones, and knowing he is going to die
and there is nothing I can do. Though
yelling at the parent might make me feel better it accomplishes nothing. So I accept the death of yet another child.
The other day when I was working in Urgence we had a
5 year old child come in with his parent, and the child was diagnosed with
malaria. He had a temperature of 40
degrees Celsius and a malaria count of 0.25%.
Even after knowing this the parents wanted to leave. We told the parents that the child would die
if he left the hospital and didn’t get the treatment he needed. His high fever would cause convulsions and
most likely his malaria would turn into cerebral malaria without
treatment. But still they wanted to
leave. Thinking that money was the issue
we obtained a free form for them so that their entire hospital bill would be
paid for but even then they still wanted to leave. It took us a good half an hour to convince
them to stay so that their child could live. What is wrong with these people?
Why did I have to convince the parents to stay in the hospital so their
child could live? I was so angry at
those parents. At one point I left the
parents with Alexis (the Chadian nurse I was working with) because I was so
angry I was afraid I would start screaming at the parents, or burst into tears. You shouldn’t have to convince parent to let
their child live. They didn’t deserve
their child and shouldn’t be parents. I
just don’t understand, isn’t life precious? How can you live with yourself
knowing because you did nothing your child is dead?
I had a family bring in a boy who ten years old and unconscious
into Urgence. The parents had come in on
October 4th because the boy had a high fever and wasn’t eating. He was diagnosed with malaria with a count of
0.40%, which is high. The parents left
the hospital, taking their child home without getting him treatment. Now four days later on October 8th
they return with him, and he is unconscious having developed cerebral malaria. The family around the child’s bed looks at me
like I am going to save their child. As if I, Carlie Munroe have the power to
cure him of his malaria. They don’t realize that he probably won’t make it
through the night. They are crying
holding his hand, but all I want to do is yell at them. I have so much anger; I know the minute I
start yelling I won’t stop. So I hold it
in and say nothing. Why didn’t they get him the treatment he
needed on the 4th when he was diagnosed with malaria? Why are they
here now four days later?! They act so sad, but this is their entire
fault! Their child will die because they
didn’t get him treatment when he was diagnosed.
I want to yell at them and tell them how he will die because they didn’t
get him treatment. I want them to realize that this could have been
prevented! But I don’t say anything; I
hold my anger in check. Instead I put an
IV in and start his malaria treatment; knowing that it will not help. He will be dead by tomorrow.
I am a nurse in the Bere Hospital in Chad
Africa. But I feel so useless at
times. I realize I can’t save them all,
but it doesn’t make it any easier. I
have lost count of how may children I have seen die, how may I have held I my
arms knowing death is inevitable. Death
is like a shadow here in Africa, always right behind you, and it is wearing me
down. I am so weary and my soul feels
tired. I have long since stopped crying
over all the death I see; my tears have all dried up; there is none left. I pray that God will soften my heart, but I
feel like my heart has turned to stone.
I know if I let myself cry, that I won’t be able to stop. So instead I pray to God for the strength to
go one for another day, and remind myself that God’s heart is not made of stone. That I might not be able to cry, but God
does, and cares for every child in Africa even if the parents don’t.
I am a nurse in the Bere Hospital in Chad
Africa. At times I am discouraged, but
the good moments far out way the bad ones. God brought me here to serve his
children and I am trying to the best of my ability. As I recheck the quinine drip on my
unconscious child I let go of some of my anger towards his parents; and as I do
my heart of stone starts to beat again.
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