Pendulum

It's 29 degrees Celsius today, and I'm dripping. I left my lunch in the resuscitation room (the ER), but they don't have any N95 masks right now, and after people walk in coughing, it has become a reflex to jump up and leave the room.

"You want a mask-you-crazy-non-vaccinated-paranoid-stupid-American?" Ok so Nobody really said that, but we are sort of like Martians here, when we ask for masks.

"Go to the TB department"I laughed to myself, Sure, Walk right into the ward (section of the hallway) where I know EVERYONE has a contagious bacterial infection to GET myself a mask. I don't think so. Not worth the risk. Like holding my breath would help. I roll my eyes at my own thought and switch directions down the hallway.

At the beginning, I wrote purely on shock factor, my own, I guess, and yours. But it's week eight now, so here's what I see today that has become the "norm." This is me looking at the positives.

At least the queue (line) of two hundred or so children and their parents waiting for the pede's doctor are waiting in the shade.

At least there are three doctors on duty today . . .out of seventeen.

At least they have an X-ray machine here . . .SO, I guess it's not a bad place to be.

Every hallway in this Kwa Dabeka (this hospital) is lined with chairs, as are the two courtyards, the queue for the pharmacy has 50 chairs and a hundred people who want to sit in them. Unfortunately the pharmacist who is qualified to administer ARVs (Anti-Retro Virals) is not here today. Every chair in the hospital is overflowing, even the adult internal medicine queue, looks like it's pede's because everybody has at least one or two children in tow. Usually a toddler who walks, and a younger baby tied to the mothers back with a towel. Very innovative. . . In the morning and the afternoon we have to walk past the Admin. desk, and the two brick patios filled with six hundred or so occupants waiting to get a chance to actually come inside the hospital.The patios bake in the heat and insulate both rooms until they become saunas in the springtime sun. I watch thick beads of sweat roll down shiny foreheads, and offer a smile. I get nothing in return.

My stethoscope is a Pendulum, recruiting the eyes of every patient as I move past the rows and rows of Zulu people. Their eyes seem to say, PLEASE help me, please examine my sick child, please make the queue move faster, please wave a magic wand and get me out of here. It sways back and fourth with each footstep, making me more of a sore thumb than I was already, and seems to carry with it a big Neon sign that flashes DOCTOR!!!!!

I feel powerless. I have seen and heard enough ungodly things to last me a lifetime. I see, and hear, and feel unspeakable, unrepeatable, nightmares that are real.

Ash

Once you looked at me and saw something you hadn't seen before.
I watched it register across your face.
Understanding, COMPASSION, Flight of truly embracing my character.

Suddenly you could feel why I was in such pain.
Your breath caught in your throat and you stared at me like you were seeing me for the first time, something finally clicked.
It was closer to the last.

Your anger and passion melted into a wimper that swept me into your arms so tight you would never release me.
That's what you were afraid of.Not being able to let go. No Doubt in my mind.
You ran the other direction, sure that the knots tied between us would only melt if you burned them. And you did. Nothing left for me but ash between my fingertips.