From the outside of the hospital, it looked to be a normal medical facility….almost like something we would have in the states. After stepping through the entrance, reality sets in and I realize that this hospital is nothing like I am accustomed to. Everything is out of date, walls are practically decomposing, and the eerie surroundings remind you more of a prison than a hospital. We walk in, right pass the nurses and into the children’s area. There is one large room for girls and one large room for boys. The children are lined up one by one on the beds, sweat pouring out from their tiny bodies (A/C is not a luxury they have here).
We go around to say hello to all of the children and pass out coloring books and colors to the ones that want them. Many of them have IV’s in their arms and so their mothers who sit right next to the beds, help them to color. They have absolutely nothing to occupy their time here, so coloring a doubled sided paper full of pictures is heaven to them.
Not all of the children are well enough to color, much less sit up though. These are the ones that draw my attention. I go to each of their beds and ask them or their mother if they have one there, why they are here and for how long. The illnesses range from broken limbs, infections, to even burns covering half their body. I feel helpless…..COMPLETELY helpless. They are all in such agony and I have absolutely NOTHING to give them to help stop the pain. I want to do something, so I spend a lot of my time standing over their bed fanning their little bodies. I try and talk to the mothers to try and comfort them as best that I can. When the kids start to cry because they are hurting, my stomach ties in a knot and I start to fan harder……once again, this is all that I know how to do to help ease their pain.
One boy in particular stood out to me on our first visit. He was in the corner bed with no visitor or mother by his side. I tried talking to him but he would barely acknowledge me. He had tears running down his face and was not moving much. When he did open up to me, he told me that his mother could not be there because she had to work and that his father did not live with his family. As I stood there fanning him, the nurse came by to change out his bandage on his foot. She removed the bandage and poured a disinfectant into the gaping wound on his ankle. He started to yell, scream and cry for his mother. Tears started to stream down my face. I felt completely helpless. I rubbed his head and prayed for him until he settled down. The pit in my stomach that had begun to form when I had entered the hospital seemed to just keep getting heavier. At this moment, I genuinely fell in love with this little boy. I would have taken him home with me an in an instant if I could have. I stayed until he calmed down and left feeling like I was almost abandoning him.
I realized after leaving that day, that this is only a first of many times in the next year, that God will be breaking my heart for the children of these countries.
