by Rinyu, Beth
“Well, I don’t know if I will ever find the one, and I am perfectly okay with that,” I lied. I wanted more than anything to find true love and have a family. The dream of becoming a mother was equally as strong as my dream to become a doctor. I loved children and couldn’t wait until I had my own one day. But that dream would have to be put on hold for now.
“Oh no, Kat, it will happen when you least expect it—trust me,” he answered.
I got up from the table and began to load the dishes into the dishwasher. I was scrubbing away at a frying pan going over my to-do list in my head. To my surprise it was pretty much all checked off. I just had to throw some last minute things in my bag and I was set.
Dr. Charles Morgan, one of the doctors who would be accompanying me, was picking me up for the airport at 7 p.m. Charles, my mentor, was around the same age as my dad. I respected him and his knowledge immensely. I had become very close to him and his wife, Claire. They never had children but Claire had such a motherly way to her, which I found very comforting. They had become an extended family to me. The fact that he was coming, helped to put my mind greatly at ease.
The two other doctors joining us were Tricia Aller and James Wiltshire. Tricia and I had met a year ago when we both joined the same practice. We were the youngest in the group, alongside three older stuffy gentlemen doctors. It was like a breath of fresh air having someone my age to relate to. We became instant friends; I couldn’t help but love her. She was so bubbly and her appearance was just as cute as her personality. She had beautiful green eyes and short spiky brown hair that was perfect for her small face and petite frame. She and I were to be roommates and I was relying on her positive outlook to help get me through my bouts of home-sickness.
James was another pediatrician at our hospital. He too was around the same age as Tricia and me. I had gotten to know him fairly well over the past year and became fond of his jokester personality. He and Tricia always exchanged jokes. She was too naïve to see that he was actually flirting with her. They had great chemistry, even though she was only 5’2” and he was almost 6’5”. He was an above-average looking guy with light brown hair that he wore a little longer all around. He didn’t look like your typical clean-cut doctor, but he was able to pull off the longer hair look very well. He had big brown eyes and a boyish way about him. The matchmaker side in me thought that he and Tricia would make the perfect couple.
The day flew by and before I knew it the clock on the fireplace mantel was chiming seven times. The butterflies were released from the cage inside of my stomach when I looked out the window and saw the limo in the driveway. The moment that I had been dreading most about this trip was finally here—saying goodbye to my dad.
My dad and Charles were deep in conversation over last night’s baseball game. I stood by the front door with my bags in hand waiting for them to get done with their chatter. Charles was tall and thin. He began to shave his hair off years ago when it started thinning and was now completely bald – it was the perfect look for him. He had a deep bellowing voice that made you stop and take notice of what he was saying.
I looked at myself in the full-length mirror waiting for my presence to be acknowledged. I noticed for the first time the perfect light blonde streaks that the sun had left in my dirty blonde wavy hair that I had pulled back into a ponytail. I wondered why my hairdresser, Raymond, could never get that right shade of blonde, no matter how hard he tried. I examined myself from head to toe, realizing that once again my dad was probably right about putting meat on my bones. I was 5’5” and just about 100 pounds, which only made my already small chest, look even smaller. Although people would tell me how pretty I was, I never believed it. I was never the type of person that beamed with self-confidence and I was envious of those that did. I felt like a bored kid making faces in the mirror waiting for my dad and Charles to finish their endless chatter.
“Hey Kat, are you ready to get this show on the road?” Charles asked, as if I hadn’t already been standing there for the past five minutes.
“I guess so,” I answered hesitantly.
“I’m going to take these to the car,” Charles said, grabbing the bags and shaking my dad’s hand, saying their goodbyes as he walked out the door.
“Well, it’s time kiddo,” my dad said, embracing me tightly.
I was unable to keep the promise that I had made not to cry and the tears began to roll down my face. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, but call if you’re planning on coming home early, so I can get the ladies out of the house,” he said, laughing. He always used humor to get him through tough situations. I guess it worked for him all these years.
“Deal,” I said, unable to keep myself from laughing.
I gave him one last hug and kiss as I headed out the door. I turned around before getting into the car taking one last look at my house and my dad standing on the front porch. I etched it into my mind right along with the Christmas picture of my mother and me.
The last thought on my mind as we pulled away was of Jake. I wondered if I would ever fall in love with someone, the way I had with him. I was hoping that this trip would serve its purpose and mend my broken heart.
Chapter 2
After what seemed like a never ending flight from Philadelphia International airport we finally touched down at Lagos International airport. I slept for quite some time on the plane and woke up feeling refreshed. This was Charles’ third time coming here, so we were heavily relying on him. We walked out of the airport and into the night. It wasn’t as oppressively hot as I had expected; not much different than the heat and humidity back at home in the summer months. There was a strange smoky smell in the air. The swarms of mosquitos that greeted us were no strangers to me, being from a bayside town you learn to deal with that. So I was a little better prepared for it than others may have been. The taxi pulled up and we loaded our bags in. The twenty-minute taxi ride seemed never ending down dark, narrow, bumpy dirt roads. Charles sat in the front seat having a conversation with the taxi driver, who spoke broken English. They sounded like they were long lost friends. I sat in the back seat crammed between Tricia and James, already doubting my decision to come.
We pulled up to a large one-story building that we would call home for the next nine months. To my surprise it wasn’t as bad as I had expected. It was surrounded by four other buildings very similar in size and structure. Charles explained in detail what every building was used for. He said that all the buildings were built by volunteers from around the world.
“So what do you guys think about your new home for the next nine months?” Charles asked with a grin.
“Ugh,” was all Tricia could manage as she grabbed her bags and headed into the building with James not too far behind.
Charles chuckled at Tricia’s out of character reaction. “I guess she’s a little cranky from that long plane ride,” I said, laughing.
“Well Kat, what do you think?” he asked.
“Actually, it’s not as bad as I had expected; I was expecting something out of Gilligan’s Island,” I said. “I also thought it would be a lot hotter.”
We entered a big windowless room with painted cinder-block walls. It was the kind of room that automatically put you in a gloomy mood. It had a familiar musty scent that didn’t take me long to recognize, it was the same smell as my attic at home. Tricia and James were talking to a tall lanky man sitting behind a desk. He seemed to have a French accent. Charles automatically took over the conversation, getting us the keys for our rooms. He handed me a key chain with a big number nine on it. I made my way down the narrow hallway, taking in each number on the door. I finally reached door nine feeling like a contestant on Let’s Make a Deal. I opened the creaky door slowly, afraid to see what was going to be behind it. It was an average-sized room with two single beds and a nightstand between them. Just like the large entryway, there were cinder-block walls along with the attic like smell. There were two small windows on each side of the small
closet and a large dresser that sat on the far wall. The small bathroom consisted of a pedestal sink, a toilet and shower stall.
I placed my bags on the bed furthest from the door and sat down to take everything in. The bed was as stiff as a board, making me painfully realize that the comforts of my nice tranquil bedroom really were a million miles away.
Tricia entered the room and broke my daydreaming. “Yuck!” was all she could muster. Her sunny disposition, upon which I was depending, had disappeared.
Ironically it was I who tried to spread the cheer about our new abode. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” I asked jokingly.
“I think I left it somewhere over the ocean,” she answered.
My second wind that I had gotten when I got off the plane was suddenly blown away. I was overcome with exhaustion, and when I looked down at my watch it was 11:20 p.m. Charles had set my watch for me with the correct time while we were on the plane and I already lost track of what time it would have been at home. I cringed at the thought of the uncomfortable bed, but at this point I was so tired, I think I could have slept on a bag of rocks. I walked over to my bags, fumbling through them for a pair of pajamas.
Tricia got up to answer the knock on the door. “Well, I can see you two are getting all settled in,” Charles said, walking into the room.
“Pretty much,” I looked around.
“Just remember, bottled water, even to brush your teeth and no ice,” he warned.
“Can we take a shower with that bottled water too?” Tricia asked with disgust in her voice.
“She’s still grumpy; maybe we’ll get our old Tricia back after a good night’s sleep,” I said, laughing at Charles.
“Good night, girls,” he said, shaking his head and laughing, closing the door behind him.
We changed into our pajamas and lay down on our beds. The room was very hot, and even with the windows open and fan on it felt as if no air was circulating. I tossed and turned forever. I was trying to get comfortable and drown out Tricia’s snoring. I closed my eyes and imagined myself walking along the bay, beachcombing. This was something that I always did to relax myself, as I finally drifted off into a restless sleep.
Tricia was already dressed and putting clothes away when I woke up. “Good morning sleepy head, one hour until orientation!” she said in her Mary Poppins voice, which proved my theory - all she needed was a good night’s sleep.
“Oh shoot that’s right.” I jumped out of bed and ran immediately into the shower. I maneuvered the faucets trying to find the hot water. I finally figured it out. It wasn’t very hot at all and smelled of sulfur. I showered as fast as I could, not feeling much cleaner than before I had gotten in. I pulled my wet hair back into a ponytail and brushed my teeth with the half-empty bottle of water that Tricia had left on the sink.
“That was quick,” Tricia said as I walked over to my suitcase to grab my black shorts and white tank top. I dressed quickly and we headed on our way. The large one-story building from last night was a lot busier in the morning light. Not that you could tell that it was morning¬¬, the only sign of natural light was coming though the small window located above the entry way door. Tricia and I flawlessly maneuvered our way through the crowds of people to finally exit the building. The heat that I had been expecting yesterday hit me in the face immediately. The moisture in the air made the humidity at home feel refreshing.
“I feel like I’m in the sauna at my gym.” Tricia said fanning herself with her hand.
I looked down at the paperwork we had been given that included a map of the village. “I think we have to go over to this one.” I pointed to the building right next door.
The building was almost identical to the one where we were staying. In fact, all of the buildings were pretty much the same. They were all one story, white exteriors with red roofs and very few windows. There was a small room off to the side where we were told to report, with a Spanish-looking woman seated behind a long wooden table.
“Hello,” she said with a Spanish accent. “Can I please have your names?”
We gave her the information as she looked through a huge accordion file, pulling out our paperwork. She handed us each a paper-clipped stack of papers with our names on it. There was also an ID badge containing our names and pictures that we had submitted months ago. She went over each page in detail, explaining that they would try to assign certain patients to us. It was very hard to stick to a day-to-day routine due to the overwhelming number of people in need. She informed us that there were other villages nearby that may need our assistance if their medical team became overwhelmed. But for right now this was where we would be most needed. We were officially starting tomorrow but she suggested that we use today to familiarize ourselves with our surroundings.
We walked back out into the stickiness. We would be working in a small village just downhill from where we were staying. We walked slowly down, apprehensive of the conditions that awaited us. When we reached the bottom we saw a series of well-constructed huts and some actual buildings with several large medical tents intermingled amongst them. There were some homes that looked as if they were constructed of clay and others that looked like battered shacks made of whatever material could be found. I had only seen these types of living conditions on TV and in National Geographic magazines. To be here experiencing it in person was very surreal for me. There were practically as many goats walking around as people. We passed several boys chasing a soccer ball in an open area. There were two women dressed in traditional colorful African garb, each holding babies on their hips looking on. There was a group of school-aged children gathered in a circle intently listening to an older woman sitting in the middle reading them a story. The villagers seemed to be content with their lifestyle, seemingly unaware of the disease that prevailed. Most of them seemed unaware and unfazed by our presence. Others would just nod their heads and smile.
We finally reached the medical building. Inside was a series of about 140 beds in open wards with curtains in between each bed to divide them. There were about twenty-five beds per ward. There was an intensive care unit, a labor and delivery suite, a laboratory, an emergency department, several offices, and a small pharmacy. The electricity was supplied the same way that it was to the building that we were staying in, by large generators.
“Hello Dr. Vallia and Dr. Aller,” an older Asian gentleman said as he approached us, reading our IDs. He introduced himself as Dr. Chen and shook our hands.
It seemed as if every bed was filled and it suddenly occurred to me just how seriously in need these people were. “Well, Dr. Chen, we were told that we didn’t need to officially start working until tomorrow but it seems like you have your hands full. Is there anything that we can do to help out?” I asked.
“That would be most helpful. But first let me familiarize you with some things,” he said.
He led us to a large storage cabinet, showing us where all the supplies were kept. He gave us a brief tour of the facility. We walked through the rows of beds, where he explained that each bed had a number by which each patient was identified. I began to think how impersonal it was to be referred to as a bed number instead of a name. Then I heard Charles’s voice telling me not to get attached emotionally while I was here. I tried to dismiss my prior thought, until I focused my attention on a little boy who looked to be about seven-years-old. He looked so scared and lonely and I immediately began to wonder if he was alone. Many of the children here were orphans, losing their families to the diseases that ran rampant. Dr. Chen caught me staring at the little boy, confirming what I had already known.
“That’s Akin, he has malaria. He lost his father about a year ago to it, and his mother just passed away last week,” Dr. Chen said.
I walked over to the little boy’s bed. I could see where he had dried-up tears on his face. My heart sank when I thought of him suffering all alone.
“Hi,” I said. He looked at me with big brown doe eyes and smiled. I knew he couldn’t understand a w
ord I was saying. Just my mere presence seemed to put him at ease. Charles’ words were already out of my head. I had become emotionally attached within the first few minutes of being here.
“He has a list of medications that need to be administered yet today, if you would like to tend to him,” Dr. Chen said. “At this point we are just trying to keep him comfortable and keep his fever from going any higher.”
“Comfortable? He will recover, right?” I asked almost pleadingly.
He explained to me the type of malaria that the boy had contracted, which I already knew from my medical studies was the worst form to have. Eventually all his major organs would shut down. I had answered my own question that little Akin probably would not recover. I felt my heart drop as I looked at him. I immediately grabbed his chart hanging on the edge of his bed and started reading it over. He had turned eight-years-old two months ago. Everyone in his family was gone; he was alone in this world. I quickly gathered up his medications. I gave him a smile and rubbed his hand gently, feeling him clench as I administered the IV into his fragile little arm. I knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the medication would take effect and lull him to sleep. I sat by his bedside until his eyes closed and his labored breathing became more relaxed.
I was amazed at how quickly the unofficial first day of work flew by. The number of patients that I had seen in one day was more than I typically would see in a week back home. I couldn’t believe that there were so many sick children in one place. I had just about covered every age group from newborn to eighteen-years-old in just one day. I made one last round; peeking in at everyone I had seen for the day. I saved my last stop for my favorite patient. I smiled as I looked in at little Akin laying in his bed, even though my heart was aching for him. Here was a little boy who should be out enjoying life, playing baseball or learning to ride a bike, but instead he was lying in this bed waiting to die. I knew that this was part of my job, the part that I was hoping I would never have to see. But being in this place, a child dying was an all-too-common event. Still groggy from the medication, he managed a smile back as he closed his eyes and fell back to sleep. I sat by his bedside for a little longer just watching every breath he took. I was hoping that somehow he would be able to feel my presence and sense that he wasn’t alone, that someone did care. I finally got up when I saw that he had fallen into a deep sleep, checking his IV one last time. I caressed his little face gently, whispering “Good night sweet boy,” with a heavy heart and tears in my eyes.
