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10-17-08
I met Anna Tuesday, just a few hours after writing my last blog post. In the three days that I've known her and been involved in trying to get her the treatment she desperately needs, I've been both appalled and amazed at the character of those all around me.
Early Tuesday afternoon Alissa, an education PCV living in Mohale's Hoek camptown about 45 minutes south of Mafeteng, came into the PSI/New Start office and asked if I had a few minutes to help her out with something. Since I was spending my time doing really important things like reading about Durban and dreaming of vacation, I was happy to oblige. She took me to the women's ward in the hospital where Anne Marie, an education PCV here in Mafeteng district, was sitting on a bench in the hall next to a beautiful, way too skinny, terrified 13 year-old girl trying her best to hold it together. Her name is Anna.
Anna is from a remote village in Mafeteng district and had never been to Mafeteng camptown before, never been to a hospital. So how did she end up here? Well, the story is a little sketchy, mostly pieced together from information that Anne Marie and Alissa were able to gather from Anna's teacher and the local clinic. But generally, this is what we know:
Several weeks back Anna hurt her finger on a rock and the wound became infected. A nurse saw Anna on the road and, noticing the infection, gave her some antibiotic and told her (and, possibly, her mother...we're not sure on that) that she needed to go to Mafeteng to get it treated. It seems that Anna's mother is not around very much, there is no father and she has been basically left to raise herself...and possibly a sibling or two. No matter the case, the wound didn't get treated. When Anne Marie and Alissa were out visiting primary schools on Tuesday morning, one of the teachers pulled them aside and asked them to look at Anna's finger – puss-filled and green. They immediately took Anna to the clinic, where they were told about her first diagnosis and that it had now become so infected it would have to be amputated by the doctor in Mafeteng. After Anne Marie insisted to the clinic staff that someone go to the village and find Anna's mother, she was finally tracked down and brought in. “I don't have the money to take her to Mafeteng,” was the response. Not, “What can I do to get her there?” not, “Can you help me find the money to pay for the ride?” just “I don't have nine rand.” Ok, so that may be the case, but really...wouldn't most mothers do anything they could to raise the money to get their seriously ill child to a hospital?
Anne Marie and Alissa immediately offered to pay for the four of them to take the kombi ride to the hospital. On the way they stopped at Anne Marie's house where she made a peanut butter sandwich for Anna to have for lunch and picked out a few children's books to take along. As they waited for the kombi to come, Anna's mom reached over and took the peanut butter off the sandwich to eat for herself.
Once in Mafeteng the doctor confirmed that the infection was indeed very serious and that she would lose part, though not necessarily all, of her finger. As Anna was being admitted, Alissa came to get me. Anne Marie had to go to Maseru for a workshop and couldn't stay with Anna. Since Nichol and I are near and in town, she asked for our help to look after Anna and visit her while she was in the hospital.
Through the admittance process Anna just sat, tears rolling down her cheeks, shaking, but doing her best not to break down completely. When the doctor took her in to insert the IV we could hear her from the hallway, screaming. She's never seen an IV, isn't used to needles. But when she came out, she again tried to do her best to be brave.
Anna's mother left after getting money from Anne Marie to take a kombi home. She took Anna's school uniform with her promising to send a dress back with the hospital nurse who was making a trip to the village clinic the next day. We aren't sure if the hospital staff told her she couldn't stay because she really couldn't or because they sensed that things might be better without mom around, but either way, Anna was on her own again.
The last three days have been a constant refrain of phone calls between Nichol, Anne Marie and I trying to get Anna help from the nurses, clothes or visits from her mother. Here mom didn't send clothes back with the nurse so a teacher who Nichol and her counterpart, Blossom, know gave Anna a skirt, shirt and sweater of her daughter's. We also bought her a pair of shorts to sleep in and clean underwear. Blossom noticed Wednesday that Anna hadn't been bathed so came Thursday morning to do it. My 'M'e got up with me at 6 a.m. this morning to do the bathing.
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Anne Marie has kept in contact with Anna's principal, who found Anna's mother yesterday and gave her money to come visit. None of us saw her mom, but she did apparently come by. Some staff at the hospital and the ARV clinic on the hospital compound have also taken an interest in Anna, paying her visits. We've sat with her through X-rays and IV changes, each time trying to convince her that it'll be ok, that the giant machines and needles and vials are meant to help her get better. We've brought in children's books, a stuffed animal that was gathering dust in my house and, of course, candy and cookies.
When the doctor put Anna under on Wednesday to examine the finger, he found the tip so deteriorated that it fell off. This morning the doctor told me they will make a decision Monday about the amputation as they have to wait for the infection to go down. They may have to send her to Maseru to have the procedure done. Can you imagine, a girl who had never left her village now having to be taken into Maseru?
I've seen nurses be kind and comforting, putting up with all the lekhooa (white people) questioning and answering us as best as possible. I've seen nurses yelling at Anna, telling her to stop crying immediately, and let her IV sit empty and bloody for hours. I've seen bo-'M'e who don't know Anna or have any reason to care, like Blossom and my 'M'e, step in where her mother or hospital staff should have taken responsibility. I've seen principals and teachers do everything in their power to give Anna something familiar, to come and visit. I've seen a mother disappear on her daughter.
The contrast of “good” and “bad” has been both completely blurred and starkly obvious to me these past few days. I never thought, or wanted, to come to Africa to do the “hug an African child and go home feeling better about yourself” thing, never thought (and still don't think) that's the way to make a difference. But it's hard to not get personal, not want to scoop her up and try to fly her to America and give her everything she doesn't have here. For better or worse I wonder if I've become one of those “dollar a day” infomercials. But right now I guess that doesn't matter so much, it just matters that we are doing our best to help and that no matter how trivial it seems, giving her just a little happiness is better than doing nothing at all.
I met Anna Tuesday, just a few hours after writing my last blog post. In the three days that I've known her and been involved in trying to get her the treatment she desperately needs, I've been both appalled and amazed at the character of those all around me.
Early Tuesday afternoon Alissa, an education PCV living in Mohale's Hoek camptown about 45 minutes south of Mafeteng, came into the PSI/New Start office and asked if I had a few minutes to help her out with something. Since I was spending my time doing really important things like reading about Durban and dreaming of vacation, I was happy to oblige. She took me to the women's ward in the hospital where Anne Marie, an education PCV here in Mafeteng district, was sitting on a bench in the hall next to a beautiful, way too skinny, terrified 13 year-old girl trying her best to hold it together. Her name is Anna.
Anna is from a remote village in Mafeteng district and had never been to Mafeteng camptown before, never been to a hospital. So how did she end up here? Well, the story is a little sketchy, mostly pieced together from information that Anne Marie and Alissa were able to gather from Anna's teacher and the local clinic. But generally, this is what we know:
Several weeks back Anna hurt her finger on a rock and the wound became infected. A nurse saw Anna on the road and, noticing the infection, gave her some antibiotic and told her (and, possibly, her mother...we're not sure on that) that she needed to go to Mafeteng to get it treated. It seems that Anna's mother is not around very much, there is no father and she has been basically left to raise herself...and possibly a sibling or two. No matter the case, the wound didn't get treated. When Anne Marie and Alissa were out visiting primary schools on Tuesday morning, one of the teachers pulled them aside and asked them to look at Anna's finger – puss-filled and green. They immediately took Anna to the clinic, where they were told about her first diagnosis and that it had now become so infected it would have to be amputated by the doctor in Mafeteng. After Anne Marie insisted to the clinic staff that someone go to the village and find Anna's mother, she was finally tracked down and brought in. “I don't have the money to take her to Mafeteng,” was the response. Not, “What can I do to get her there?” not, “Can you help me find the money to pay for the ride?” just “I don't have nine rand.” Ok, so that may be the case, but really...wouldn't most mothers do anything they could to raise the money to get their seriously ill child to a hospital?
Anne Marie and Alissa immediately offered to pay for the four of them to take the kombi ride to the hospital. On the way they stopped at Anne Marie's house where she made a peanut butter sandwich for Anna to have for lunch and picked out a few children's books to take along. As they waited for the kombi to come, Anna's mom reached over and took the peanut butter off the sandwich to eat for herself.
Once in Mafeteng the doctor confirmed that the infection was indeed very serious and that she would lose part, though not necessarily all, of her finger. As Anna was being admitted, Alissa came to get me. Anne Marie had to go to Maseru for a workshop and couldn't stay with Anna. Since Nichol and I are near and in town, she asked for our help to look after Anna and visit her while she was in the hospital.
Through the admittance process Anna just sat, tears rolling down her cheeks, shaking, but doing her best not to break down completely. When the doctor took her in to insert the IV we could hear her from the hallway, screaming. She's never seen an IV, isn't used to needles. But when she came out, she again tried to do her best to be brave.
Anna's mother left after getting money from Anne Marie to take a kombi home. She took Anna's school uniform with her promising to send a dress back with the hospital nurse who was making a trip to the village clinic the next day. We aren't sure if the hospital staff told her she couldn't stay because she really couldn't or because they sensed that things might be better without mom around, but either way, Anna was on her own again.
The last three days have been a constant refrain of phone calls between Nichol, Anne Marie and I trying to get Anna help from the nurses, clothes or visits from her mother. Here mom didn't send clothes back with the nurse so a teacher who Nichol and her counterpart, Blossom, know gave Anna a skirt, shirt and sweater of her daughter's. We also bought her a pair of shorts to sleep in and clean underwear. Blossom noticed Wednesday that Anna hadn't been bathed so came Thursday morning to do it. My 'M'e got up with me at 6 a.m. this morning to do the bathing.
Anne Marie has kept in contact with Anna's principal, who found Anna's mother yesterday and gave her money to come visit. None of us saw her mom, but she did apparently come by. Some staff at the hospital and the ARV clinic on the hospital compound have also taken an interest in Anna, paying her visits. We've sat with her through X-rays and IV changes, each time trying to convince her that it'll be ok, that the giant machines and needles and vials are meant to help her get better. We've brought in children's books, a stuffed animal that was gathering dust in my house and, of course, candy and cookies.
When the doctor put Anna under on Wednesday to examine the finger, he found the tip so deteriorated that it fell off. This morning the doctor told me they will make a decision Monday about the amputation as they have to wait for the infection to go down. They may have to send her to Maseru to have the procedure done. Can you imagine, a girl who had never left her village now having to be taken into Maseru?
I've seen nurses be kind and comforting, putting up with all the lekhooa (white people) questioning and answering us as best as possible. I've seen nurses yelling at Anna, telling her to stop crying immediately, and let her IV sit empty and bloody for hours. I've seen bo-'M'e who don't know Anna or have any reason to care, like Blossom and my 'M'e, step in where her mother or hospital staff should have taken responsibility. I've seen principals and teachers do everything in their power to give Anna something familiar, to come and visit. I've seen a mother disappear on her daughter.
The contrast of “good” and “bad” has been both completely blurred and starkly obvious to me these past few days. I never thought, or wanted, to come to Africa to do the “hug an African child and go home feeling better about yourself” thing, never thought (and still don't think) that's the way to make a difference. But it's hard to not get personal, not want to scoop her up and try to fly her to America and give her everything she doesn't have here. For better or worse I wonder if I've become one of those “dollar a day” infomercials. But right now I guess that doesn't matter so much, it just matters that we are doing our best to help and that no matter how trivial it seems, giving her just a little happiness is better than doing nothing at all.
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