My writing today is not as much about Ivan as it is about the desperate medical needs of so many people here in Mozambique. Ivan has gross motor skills deficiencies making it cumbersome for him to walk and run properly. He literally does not bend his hips or knees when he walks. We have taken him to doctors for a diagnosis as to why he walks this way. There is no physical cause for this, so we have been advised to take him for physical therapy to teach him to walk correctly.
We have pursued this therapy through the public health care system. Ivan goes every Tuesday and Thursday for an “appointment” at the local Provincial Hospital. I put the word appointment in quotation marks because it really is not an appointment. Consults of any kind in Mozambique are first come, first serve. Because of this, everyone arrives very early at the hospitals and clinics so that they have a chance of seeing a doctor before the day’s end. By early, I mean very early…as in the wee hours of the day before the clinic even opens. It has broken my heart in the past to drive by clinics and see scores and scores of men, women, and children lined up outside waiting. Then you drive by hours later and still see them there…waiting. There are not enough doctors and nurses to meet the need, and many will go home unattended at the end of the day.
My first experiences with people’s medical struggles came with several medical teams we hosted to conduct outreaches. We would set up our tables and chairs and then they would come…by the hundreds. They lined up and sat on the ground. After a while, so many had come that there no longer was a line, but a sea of people sitting patiently on the ground. Each one hoped to see the doctor. Each one hoped to get a medication that would cure them. But all we were able to do was put a “Band-Aid” on their illness. We could give them a medication that made them feel better for that day or the next week, but there would be no one to follow up and continue their treatment. I remember looking down the line of people in plastic chairs. They all had such hope in their eyes. Inside, I cried for them. I knew we could only do so much, and that wasn’t very much at all.
At one medical outreach, the sun was setting and people were still coming! We had to put a grass mat over the door to stop more people from entering. We would not be able to take any other patients that day. All these people who walked for miles to seek attention would now have to turn around and walk home again in the dark.
At another medical outreach, when the end of the day came, there were still hundreds of people sitting under the shade of a very large tree who had been waiting all day. Our tireless doctor has diagnosed and treated hundreds, but it did not make a dent in the need. When it was announced that we would not be able to see any more people that day, there were no complaints or murmurs. They had been in this situation countless times before. They all quietly got up and made their way home.
At the end of our third medical team outreach, I swore I would never do another medical outreach like this again. They didn’t solve or help anything, and they left me feeling that there had to be a better way.
Now I find myself in a public hospital setting right outside the capital city with Ivan. You would think the situation would be better here, but I see the same thing. There are hundreds of people lined up on chairs in the waiting room, lining the walls of the halls, sitting side by side along the courtyard…so much for social distancing.
We take Ivan to the Physical Therapy section of the hospital. It is the same situation there with people lined up in chairs with their crutches and others in wheelchairs and then there were those, like us, who arrived too late to snag a chair, leaning against the walls…and we wait and we wait and we wait.
Eventually an attendant comes out and collects the medical cards that each patient has placed in the box outside the door. One by one, names are called and people start to go in. After about an hour, Ivan’s name is called. We go in but all of the doctors are busy, so Ivan is told to go through the series of exercises he has been taught. He dutifully performs his squats...
...and goes up and down a set of stairs over and over until he tires out....
He then goes to the back room where he practices walking between two bars while watching himself in the mirror to check his posture.
At one point, his doctor does come to check in on him. She clearly has more patients than time. So, she gives him an encouraging word about how well he did today and tells him she will see him next week.
Almost 3 hours had passed since we entered the hospital, and we now found ourselves leaving without any real interaction with a doctor. As we left, the hundreds of people are still filling the chairs of the main waiting room and lining the halls of the corridors and courtyards. It appeared just as crowded as it was when we entered earlier.
I have even experienced such patient endurance myself in the private sector. I called to make an appointment with a doctor at the private hospital. When I asked for an appointment time, I was told to come at 8:00 am. I arrived at 7:45 to a corridor lined with people. Apparently, the doctor begins seeing patients at 8:00; it wasn’t that I had an appointment at 8:00. So, I took my place in the last chair. For the next few hours, I moved along with the others advancing from chair to chair to chair as each person went into the examining room. I finally had my turn at 11:45!
So, why do I share all of this? This all points to the next step in our work here in Mozambique. It is the main reason Don and I came 10 years ago. We came to implement Project Sunshine...a holistic approach to come alongside the cashew farmers and provide a better life for them and their families. As we head out into the villages to begin Project Sunshine, we hope to provide must needed relief for people. Here is a link to a video that best explains it all... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEEmM-_tVQA&t=8s Attached to each mini-factory in the villages, we will provide a transformation center where people can easily access the help they need right where they live. They will not have to travel long distances walking under the hot Africa sun or on overstuffed transports to get to a clinic where they will wait with all the crowds of other people who also have travelled from all over to receive medical attention. This is the Sunshine Approach. A model that will alleviate the suffering of people in remote areas and give them a hands-up to a better life and a brighter future for them and their children. This is why we gave up everything to come to Mozambique. We are very excited to finally get this project underway, and we are excited to take you with us along the way. We will be sure to keep you updated on progress!
No comments:
Post a Comment