Today my neighbour's helper came over and knocked on my door. With fear on her face, she explained that 3 year old Opio was very sick and she wanted me to call the mother who was at work. After a quick phone call, I found out that the mother was called out of town with her job for the day, so she wouldn't be able to come and check on the twin, but she wanted me to take the baby to the clinic.
Opio looked scared. When I went to see him, he was curled up on the bed, crying his eyes out. I rubbed his head for a while and asked him what was wrong. Normally talkative, he was absolutely quiet. His twin, Ochen, said that Opio's stomach was paining. I told Opio I was going to take him to the clinic. He struggled to get up and put his shoes on. In the car, he looked like a lost little boy. Usually while driving he is telling me about trucks and motorcycles and giddy with excitement when he sees a bus. Today he just sat there, mute and spacey.
In the clinic, the nurses thankfully knew who he was and did everything they could to help him see the doctor. I was delighted with their personal skills. But after seeing the doctor, my heart was burdened. He never once touched Opio. He didn't check for a fever, he didn't feel his stomach... he just signed a form and sent him for blood work. The pin prick of blood came back with no results, but even the nurses said "Oh, he must have malaria, it's just not showing up on the slide yet." Three bottles of syrup were prescribed - an antimalarial, a cough syrup, and a painkiller. I went home praying that it was something really simple wrong with my little boy. Maybe it was constipation. But I just couldn't believe I was supposed to give this child all these medicines without really seeing a doctor. Please pray that Opio is okay... it's scary to see the little one so sick, especially when the words are difficult for him to express what is really wrong.
I was kind of proud of Opio though. At home he was bawling. In the car he was whimpering. In the clinic he sat stoic and dry eyed. He didn't blink a tear when the nurse pricked him for blood work. But while sitting alone in a medical room, waiting for the syrups, he began to cry again, with pain taking over his eyes. As soon as the nurse walked in, he dried his eyes with his kerchief and snuggled on my lap until all the doses were explained. To me he showed such strength. Trust me, he wasn't being weak around me, but he was sure being strong around the clinic staff.
Opio looked scared. When I went to see him, he was curled up on the bed, crying his eyes out. I rubbed his head for a while and asked him what was wrong. Normally talkative, he was absolutely quiet. His twin, Ochen, said that Opio's stomach was paining. I told Opio I was going to take him to the clinic. He struggled to get up and put his shoes on. In the car, he looked like a lost little boy. Usually while driving he is telling me about trucks and motorcycles and giddy with excitement when he sees a bus. Today he just sat there, mute and spacey.
In the clinic, the nurses thankfully knew who he was and did everything they could to help him see the doctor. I was delighted with their personal skills. But after seeing the doctor, my heart was burdened. He never once touched Opio. He didn't check for a fever, he didn't feel his stomach... he just signed a form and sent him for blood work. The pin prick of blood came back with no results, but even the nurses said "Oh, he must have malaria, it's just not showing up on the slide yet." Three bottles of syrup were prescribed - an antimalarial, a cough syrup, and a painkiller. I went home praying that it was something really simple wrong with my little boy. Maybe it was constipation. But I just couldn't believe I was supposed to give this child all these medicines without really seeing a doctor. Please pray that Opio is okay... it's scary to see the little one so sick, especially when the words are difficult for him to express what is really wrong.
I was kind of proud of Opio though. At home he was bawling. In the car he was whimpering. In the clinic he sat stoic and dry eyed. He didn't blink a tear when the nurse pricked him for blood work. But while sitting alone in a medical room, waiting for the syrups, he began to cry again, with pain taking over his eyes. As soon as the nurse walked in, he dried his eyes with his kerchief and snuggled on my lap until all the doses were explained. To me he showed such strength. Trust me, he wasn't being weak around me, but he was sure being strong around the clinic staff.
Karen I pray that Opio is better. That is laughter and speech are filling the air once again. You are a blessing.
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