The first couple of day were difficult. So many obstacles and adjustments to a chaotic system that we don't understand and a language and culture we don't speak.
Yesterday was just painful. Sad. It was like we finally had the chance to lift our heads out of the bullshit barely long enough to see the horrific things going on around us.
Today, today felt different. I've never been busier. I woke up earlier, didn't take the time to shower (sorry everyone) or get coffee, and worked later. But, for the first time, I worked with purpose.
I had a teleconference today with a team of very generous neurologists from Baltimore regarding the girl who I briefly mentioned yesterday. She's been here for over 6 weeks, suffering from an undiagnosed illness from which she will no doubt die, unless an intervention occurs. And we made progress.
I was walking the short walk from the volunteers tent to the hospital tent, and started to pass a young man who was walking with a limp. The physical therapist with him grabbed me and said, "look at him walk! Its the first time he's worn his prosthetic leg, and he's walking!" I looked up at the 25-or-so year-old-man, and he was beaming. I swear to god, I've never seen someone as proud.
My 89-year-old "topless dancer," on her way out of the hospital, had her daughter steer her way over to me to tell me she wasn't coming back because we did such a good job healing her wounds (which I had nothing to do with, it was all people like Judy).
And my buddy Jean, the 17-year-old with TB. Well, Jean is the proud owner of my Asics running shoes and my USC medical school T-shirt. And he's pumped to show it off because he feels so much better after we drained 500 mL of pus from his chest. Now, I'm not naïve to think that we've saved Jean's life, but I know for a fact that he's a lot more comfortable today than he was yesterday.
But, knowing how volatile and emotional things are here, tomorrow's prolly gonna really fucking suck, and I'll be cursing the asshole that wrote this.
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