My eye tends to hyper-focus on the sick. I turn into a
detective and always wonder how I can do something to help them.
Juanito is the blind man in my site. I always see him
walking and call his name to say hello, sometimes lead him in the right
direction. His happiness is contagious.
He walks long distances in the dark and it amazes me how the
brain's post-central gyrus, the sensory strip, substitutes for other senses if
one does not function. His sense of hearing and touch are impeccable.
Every night I see him making the same trek to his family's
house half a mile away and returning to his home with his sister. He hears the
cars or people coming from far away and moves completely off the road. He is
cautious and slow. He does not have shoes. His hair is white. His face is full
of smile wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. He always wears the same white
shirt, same pants. The poverty is obvious. Apparently he could have gotten help
a long time ago but there was no money for it.
You have no idea how much it kills me to hear things like
that. It's like a bullet to my heart and I always end up complaining to my mom
about it when she calls. "It's not fair, blah blah blah." But what's
not fair? The poverty? Some of the illnesses I find don't even have a cure. I
just have to sit in my own uselessness. Do I just want to get down to the
bottom of every illness and do something - ANYTHING - about it? And what if I
get to the point where I can't do just anything? It frustrates me. I am such a
girl of action. I have to do something about everything. It's my blessing and
curse at the same time.
I was on a combi to Tumbes one day and there was a baby with
an oversized head, usually an undeniable sign of hydrocephalus. I observed the
father holding his little girl. He had so much love in his eyes, unlike most
machista men in this country. I never go out of my way to talk to men unless it
is strictly on a professional level but this man was approachable. I couldn't
help but ask if he had taken his little one to the doctor. He had not. Did he
notice her head was bigger than other children's? Well he thought that meant
she was going to be smarter.
I had a choice - to keep my mouth shut or to say something.
I could have been wrong but if this little girl has any fighting chance, her
dad had to know now. She could barely keep her head up. I was surprised she
appeared to function normally!
I didn't know this family. It's probably none of my
business. I didn't want to come off as a know-it-all-gringa. Plus, if they are
like the rest of the campo families here in Peru, the harsh reality is that
they won't have the money to get the surgery this little girl needs anyways,
but maybe they'll find a way? Miracles happen, right?
I decided to say my two cents - she needs a doctor
immediately, she could have hydrocephalus, a build-up of CSF in the brain, the
fluid in the skull cavity that contains her brain, why her head was
"big." If this is the case she needs a fairly easy procedure - shunt
placement. In the states this surgery is common, but I am not sure about the
facilities in Tumbes, Peru. The dad said he would try to take her to the
doctor. He thanked me for my concern.
I swallowed everything else I wanted to say.
One day I think I have to take these concerns into my own
hands.
I think a new goal in life will be Doctors Without Borders.
I understand there is still so much need in the states but if I am not afraid
of the developing country, of the diseases, of compromising my comfort, I
should use this instinct. Not many want this job once they're comfortable.
Hopefully I have an adventurous husband...
I wonder how this will change over the years. It's just a
thought for now.
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