Life is a Gift

* Any views expressed in this article are those of the author and not of Thomson Reuters Foundation.

Clinic was always hectic in the morning. Hundreds of patients lined up outside waiting for injections. Inside, many more waited to be seen for their illnesses. That's what it was like there every day. I worked at the kala-azar treatment centre that our ERT (emergency response team) set up in Jiech in South Sudan's Jonglei State, in response to a deadly outbreak of the tropical disease kala-azar. One day, during another busy morning at the clinic, a group of people walked in carrying a stretcher made of cloth and logs. Inside lay a teenaged girl, barely moving. My heart sank. Whenever someone is on a stretcher, you know it's bad. Even if people are half-dead, they usually walk in on their own. This girl was barely breathing; she was in and out of consciousness. "Her name is Nyapieth," her friends told me. "She's 18 years old." I nodded. I was scared for her. I didn't say it out loud but I wondered: Why did you wait so long for treatment, Nyapieth? I began working on her right away. She had the worst case of pneumonia I had seen in a long time. She also had a high fever, she was malnourished, and she was positive for kala-azar. I really didn't know if she would make it. We carried her inside our temporary shelter and lay her in a corner. I got her started on I.V. fluid rehydration, administered antibiotics, and started her on the intravenous treatment we use for severe cases of kala-azar. Later, I helped her mother attend to her personal care. Nyapieth's mouth was completely dried shut. Every now and then she would become restless and groan, but otherwise, there was little interaction. I had to keep checking to see if she was still breathing. I improvised and developed a device from a plastic bottle so that she would be able to inhale her medicine more effectively and improve her breathing. On her third day in the clinic, Nyapieth began to show some hopeful signs. She still couldn't sit up on her own, but we propped her up against her mother. She soon began to cough and started to clear her chest. She also managed to sip some soup. She had been malnourished on screening so we started her on a therapeutic food called Plumpy'nut, which her mother mixed with water so she could swallow it. Nyapieth remained very weak, her breathing and fevers were bad, and she was mentally affected as well. I cautioned her mother every day over the first three days that we may lose her still. But slowly, over the next two weeks, Nyapieth's health improved. She still lay all day in the corner of the clinic. But as she recovered her strength, she occasionally managed to crawl on her own to the latrine without any support. However, she remained confused and altered for those two weeks and I feared the damage might be permanent. After two weeks, we progressed to the rehabilitation phase. I would lift her up and support her as we walked a little each day. Within a few days, she was walking just holding my hand. She kept wanting to go farther and farther. As we walked, she would often look at me and say, "Gwalong?" which means "Good?" I affirmed her question, saying, "Yes! Gwalong, gwalong, gwalong!" These were precious moments, wandering down the airstrip hand-in-hand, saying "gwalong" and seeing her smile! From that point on, she turned a corner. She was on the home stretch to a full recovery. One afternoon, I was walking to the clinic through a heavy wind that blew so hard it was almost knocking me over. A huge storm was brewing. I had not walked for long when I heard the sound of singing and drumming. Who on earth was out drumming in this weather? Then, coming towards me, laughing, singing, and beating her drum with gusto, was Nyapieth. She was surrounded by little kids dancing. "My God is good!" she sang. It was the most incredible, beautiful sight to behold. It still brings tears to my eyes to think about it now. She is a miracle, beautifully restored, with the joy of someone who knows their life is a gift. Your support makes our work possible. Thank you. __________________________________________________________________________ Medair's ERT responds to emergencies across all 10 states of South Sudan. During our kala-azar response in Jiech, we have established a treatment centre where we provide extensive training and supervision to local staff. We deliver kala-azar drugs, medical supplies, and materials to the facility on a weekly basis. Since the Jiech intervention started in December 2010, 1,623 kala-azar patients have been treated, cured, and discharged. Our ERT has also responded to kala-azar outbreaks in neighbouring Upper Nile State. __________________________________________________________________________ With files from Ruth Creber, Medair ERT Health Manager, South Sudan. For more information about Medair's work in South Sudan, please visit http://www.medair.org/en/where-we-work/south-sudan/ This web feature was produced with resources gathered by Medair field and headquarters staff. The views expressed herein are those solely of Medair and should not be taken, in any way, to reflect the official opinion of any other organisation.