Looking up from the patient screening book to see the growing number of
patients waiting to be seen, my eyes rested upon a mother anxiously
rocking her infant back and forth in her arms. Worry clouded the woman's
face as her eyes concentrated on her infant. The infant's eyes revealed
fading glimmers of life. For the brief moments they opened, only the
whites of her eyeballs showed. Her small chest rose sporadically as she
gasped for air. For a brief moment, she didn't seem real. The one-year
old girl remained in this zombie-like state as her mother rushed her to
the front of the patient queue.We tested the child and asked the mother the who's, what's, when's and how's about her child's condition. The mother treated her child at home, saving her the effort of walking the 24 kilometers to the clinic. But now, after several days, the child's condition deteriorated.
Looking at the child's lifeless state, I desperately snapped, "Can't we just please refer her to the district?"
"All of these people have malaria," the clinic In-Charge answered. He raised his hand to guide my eyes to the sea of patients waiting outside of the clinic for malaria tests and treatment.
"She doesn't look well... at all. This woman walked TWENTY. FOUR. K..."
"We will see her," the In-Charge reassured.
