Day 14, Two weeks in now and the start of another week things should start to fall into some sort of routine, that was the plan at any rate. Two things have gotten in the way of this grand design. The first is that the strike restarted in full force after the weekend, staffing is a little better but the limitations of what we are working with are all too evident. The second is that this is Africa, and in rural Africa life goes on, or not.
The morning ward round took us to paediatrics and my fitting child from the other day was first up. He looked worse than he did on admission and despite our best efforts over the weekend he had deteriorated. We collectively knew what we were witnessing as we saw that his oxygen levels were dropping despite being on masks. His sister was in the vicinity but she did not quite understand what was happening as his breathing became more angular and gasping. His face was expressionless behind the plastic mask and seemed worn down, as if he was tiring in a race he had no hope of completing. We moved on to give him some dignity in his last few moments.
One of the other doctors stayed behind to talk to the sister, by now she was aware that something was wrong. As we started to look through the notes and x-rays of a boy down the corridor we heard a cry go out. We pressed on with those that we could actually help and I watched from afar as the nurses pulled a room divider across, it couldn’t stop the sobs carrying through to the rest of the ward.
That was Monday morning.
:-(
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