This week I read the book "This Is a Soul; The Mission of Rick Hodes" by Marilyn Berger. If curious you can read the first chapter here. If you then want to borrow my copy, let me know! It was an eye-opening and inspiring read.
Rick Hodes is an American doctor who has chosen to serve the poorest of poor for the past 28 years. He has served in refugee camps on several occasions, but the vast majority of his work has taken place in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The book is filled with stories about the children he has treated.
It sometimes feels like the more I learn, the more shocked I become. There are so many things that I knew nothing about. There are so many things I have taken for granted. I am often embarrassed by my ignorance. For instance, did you know that untreated strep throat can eventually cause serious heart damage? Me either. In developing countries, mothers leave their village on foot to bring seriously ill children to doctors miles and miles away. They beg for food and bus fair. It sometimes takes months to get to their destination. Then when they arrive they wait some more to hopefully be seen and treated by a doctor.
Well, as if to make the plight of Ethiopian mothers striving to care for their children more real, my Ethiopian son became sick this week.
Friday morning he was clingy and needed to be held A LOT. I wondered if he was feeling sick or if the busy week was just catching up with us. He took a short nap and when he woke up, he felt the tiniest bit warm. When I checked his temperature he was just 99 so I figured he was just warm from all his blankets. He played nicely until about 4:30 and then became really clingy. I took his temp. again and it was up to 99.7. I gave him some ibuprofen and snuggled with him until supper. After supper I took his temperature again and it had climbed to 101, instead of dropping after the medicine. I was fairly certain that his illness was viral, but because his last fever had resulted in a middle of the night scare, I decided to take him into the clinic.
I bundled him up, jumped in my SUV, and we were at the doctor's office in 8 minutes or less. We live in a city with excellent walk-in clinics, so we were able to see a doctor 15 minutes later. The doctor kindly and professionally examined my son. He was understanding of my concern for Joshua's very minor symptoms. He did a throat culture and a nasal swab. He checked out Joshua's lungs and ears. He gave clear instructions on how to administer Tylenol and ibuprofen alternately every three hours in an attempt to control his fever and hopefully avoid another middle of the night scare. Then he sent us on our way.
I was home less than one hour later. I was still very concerned about my boy's raising temperature, but I felt empowered to give him the care he needed.
I gave Joshua a cool bath and soon after tucked him into bed for the night. At midnight when I woke him for more medicine his temp. had risen to over 104. Yikes! I was scared, but I knew I had all the correct medicine - so I gave him another dose. I was not comfortable leaving him alone at that point so I made us a nest on the floor. I spent the rest of the night putting a cool cloth on his hot head, which he promptly took off, only to have mommy put it back on. I made sure he had medicine every three hours. I rubbed his back and I prayed.
At some point in that long night I had the nerve to feel a bit sorry for myself. I was stressed. I was tired. I was uncomfortable. I was worried. It was just not "fair" that everyone else in the house was sleeping peacefully in their comfy beds, while I lay on the hard carpet. Then my mind flashed to the mothers in Africa that have no bed, ever. They always sleep on the floor next to their children. When their children are sick the ONLY comforts they have to give them are soothing words, soft caresses, and prayers. Doctors are too far away. Medicine is not available. Even cool water may not be easy to come by. I can not imagine.
Thankfully, Joshua is feeling better. He is still running the slightest of temperatures, especially when he begins to tire - but nothing alarming. By the grace of God and through the use of medicine, he is on the mend.
And I am grateful. I am grateful that my son is mending. I am also so very grateful for the incredible medical care I have at my finger tips.
I know this winter many of us will be awake at night with sick children. We may be inconvenienced by day care or school calling telling us to come get our sick child. We will more than likely clean up runny noses and (other) messes. We will surely wait in the walk-in clinic. We will absolutely stand in line at the pharmacy. We will be tired. We will be concerned. We will be stressed. Justifiably! (My friend reminded me that it is OK to feel a bit sorry for myself sometimes.)
But when you are calling out to God, asking Him to heal your sick child, PLEASE remember to thank Him for the doctor, the pharmacist, the Tylenol, the cool water, and the washing machine... all of the things that make being sick in America so much EASIER than being sick almost anywhere else in the world.
