“It hurts.” You can imagine him moaning. 

    “I know,” is about all the comfort that I can supply, as I focus on squishing out juicy, white somethings from the insides of his hand.

   I am hiding behind my mask, glad he cannot see the awful faces I am making. Nearby, onlookers float in and out of the room, adding comments as the occasion calls for. 

    “You should have come sooner.” 

    “You need to come every day to have it bandaged.”

    He soaks it up, and seems a little thankful when he can lay his head back on the bed and look at the white bandage instead of the ugly wound. So far, he seems to be feeling rather worn out from the whole ordeal.

    But he is not done yet. Mis Anita is thinking that a nice shot of Ceftriaxone could be in order, to kind of grab the infection first off…

     “So, don’t get too comfy, Mister,” I think as I begin to prep the injection solution. 

     When the antibiotic is lying all ready to go, the poor man bravely prepares for the worst. The worst including the fact that Anita is going to help me give my first real IM injection to a living human. It was not too bad for me. I didn’t cry. I forgot to look if he did.

     So often I am reminded of the fact that healing comes from God. There are so many things to pray about in a clinic. So much sadness in hearts and so much pain in bodies…

    Like the lady who laid in our hospital room most of today…with stroke symptoms and very high blood pressure. It was very difficult to do any communicating. Her face was emotionless and her eyes were almost shut. At the end of the day, her family decided they wanted to leave. I wonder how she will do. Will she live until morning? Will they take her to a hospital in Port-au-Prince like they talked of doing? Is she ready to die? We can always pray…please join us!

(Pictures: Right and Below  It’s hard to actually see the stretcher, but this is the group of caring friends and relatives as they carry the stroke patient away from our clinic.)