Veronike writes of tragedy, and beautifully of making a difference, even a small one.
Standing in the hospital ward on my call last night, waiting for the round to begin and thinking of all the things I need to get done I suddenly hear a scream in the last cubicle and the nurses get up to go look. I run too. It’s a mother with her baby who stopped breathing. His little body lying there, emaciated and helpless, is making the occasional gasp, but he is no longer breathing.
He was HIV positive, having gotten it from his mother at birth and had pneumonia and malnutrition. The Doctors had known beforehand he would most likely not pull through and if something like this happened, he was not for resuscitation.
We walked with his slowly deteriorating body to the resuscitation room while bagging him for a while and calling the mother in to say her last goodbyes. But she wasn’t crying. She carried on as…
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