screams fade into a blubbering
stream of pleas burbling
like a brook from cracked lips
popping bubbles of spit trailing
salty tears drawing dusty
upside-down question marks
over quivering flesh
mocking the lines of a smile
and the blood!
tense in anticipation of that
healing (?) touch coming
to rip away new skin forming
over pus infection growing
—the sting of dakin—
a quiet ‘masa’
which is probably lost in
the rush of heartbeat
drowning out sound
more than the usual
inability to communicate
a mute refusal—
blank acceptance
gloved hand pausing
a whispered prayer and
a quick inhalation as
another pinch—flinch—blood
pus sweat pooling sticky
contagion below trembling limbs
crusting layer over layer
of children past/ patients gone
a quick slap—a pincement—over
sores still oozing
clean (enough) gauze and a
brown stain of betadine
tears turned to piercing stare
a lollypop is not worth this.
…it was a pretty tough morning in the clinic. you can read more on josh’s blog, here. He doesn’t talk about the kid with the fistula in his abdomen or the other cases that we saw as well, but his post is a pretty good description of what we deal with most mornings/afternoons at the clinic. Anyway, taking some time off to use the internet (obviously) and decompress… hope everyone’s doing well, miss you all!
