A Hospital Visit

"You go to the hospital to die." -

That's basically what I've been told before about African hospitals. I saw one in Uganda that just broke my heart.

We have government hospitals and private ones here in Malawi .

I got to visit the government one several times now over the past few months.

However, my first visit there is the one I want to share with you.

Austin Chirwa, My Gardener and Day Guard

A couple of months back, my gardener got very sick. He had severe stomach cramps, a horrible headache, and was vomiting. This had been going on for a day, but he wasn't getting any better, so Mama Chirwa came to tell me about it, and I decided we would take him to the hospital.

Okay, now let me explain this part: at the hospital, there is a great shortage of staff. There may be one doctor for the entire hospital and mostly clinical technicians act like the doctors and even do surgery. So, there isn't anyone to clean your bedding, fix food for you, or give you any extra help.

So, when you go to the hospital, and are admitted, you have to have a guardian with you.

They will cook your food, sleep on the floor next to you, wash your bedding, etc.

Okay, so Dada Chirwa, Mama Chirwa and I packed up in my truck and we went to the hospital.

I parked the car and came back expecting them to be waiting in line, but they were ushered into a examining room very quickly. A nurse got a wheelchair for him to sit in, and a "doctor" order for him to get x-rays.

By this point, I was starting to get a little worried. Chirwa was in so much pain and would just keep calling out "mama." I've never seen him like that.

Because I'm the only white person on the entire hospital grounds, we were definitely making a scene wherever we went, but I was hoping it would be good attention and maybe give them incentive to help us out a bit more because they were with a white person.

We finally came to the x-ray ward.

There was 1 nurse and about 3 technicians standing around the desk talking. No one else was in the room.

We walked in and, of course, they all looked at me trying to figure out why I was there.

Chirwa is just sitting there in the wheelchair, but then he says, "I have to vomit."

The doctors just look at Mama in disgust and say, "Well! Do something about it!"

So, she grabs here chitenji (a piece of material that we wear as a skirt) and holds it as he vomits into it.

I was infuriated! These nurses and doctors were doing nothing to help him! There were standing there looking at us like how dare we vomit in their office! And before the "doctor" talks to Chirwa at all, he comes over to me and wants to know how long I"ve been here and where I work. At the moment, I really just wanted to stomp on his toes and tell him to worry about his patients! :)

Finally, a nurse goes and finds an old large pill bottle and Chirwa carries that around as his vomit container.

We get x-rays and then finally get moved to men's ward where he will be admitted until he is better.

By this time, I was just in a panic. Chirwa was vomiting blood, he was rolling around on a gurney in agony, and just seeing the condition of the hospital wasn't helping any.

So here are Mama and I just standing there, still holding onto the vomit-filled material, watching as they try to inject an IV into his very dehydrated body. 

The ward is a big open room with 16 beds lined up in it. 

All the beds are filled. So, a nursing student goes and gets a mattress from another room and throws it on the floor. There is no pillow, one sheet, and that's all we get.

Mama Chirwa tells me to go back home and get a toothbrush, a pillow, an extra blanket, flip-flops, food, and anything else I can think of for Dada Chirwa. She will be sleeping on the hard ground next to him through the night. (I found out later, she didn't sleep at all.)

I bring breakfast cooked over the fire by their 11 year-old girl the next morning at 6 am. 

She is also taking care of the 9, 5, and 2 year old.

As I was sitting on the floor by him that morning, there was another man on the floor across from him.

You could just tell there wasn't much time left for him...

When I came back that night to bring supper, he was gone and you could hear his mother wailing in the next room.

That is a really eerie feeling. 

The following day, enough beds opened up for Chirwa to get one.

A crowd of people were around another guy and later in the day, he is gone from the bed and they tell me he has died.

Fast forward 3 days. Mama Chirwa stays with him his whole stay. The "doctors" have come by to see him once in his whole stay. 

The only thing he's been given is his IV of glucose.

God has healed him, and now he can come home.

They have no clue what was wrong with him.

As bad as I was feeling about this hospital, these doctors and nurses are doing the best that they can with what they have access too.

They get the toss-off medical supplies, if they get them.

There are too many patients to give adequate care to all of them.

And plus, it makes you put more Faith in God than in the doctors who care for them.

By the way, when I spent a day in the Labor ward, I found out it costs $2.50 to have a baby in the hospital.

Yep, your hospital fees are $2.50.

In America, we have so many privileges that we don't even realize...things we think are our rights has human beings that most other human beings don't get.

And THAT is going to be the hardest part about coming home.