Yeye

After a bit of a reprieve from critical medical cases, we heard from Sufayo last night that his little sister was dying in a village about 15 kilometers from here. Sufayo had told me about Yeye before, that she had a cough, that she was really weak, and that she was loosing weight. At that time he was going to his father’s village to see her, and remembering that his mother died of tuberculosis, I recommended that he take her to a clinic to get her tested for TB. He wasn’t able to take her to a clinic at that time and since then, her condition has gotten even worse. The word that Sufayo received was that Yeye had become very weak and even thinner, that she was swelling in her hands, feet and face, and that she was not able to walk.
When my teammate was asked to go to the other village to pick Yeye up and bring her here, I asked to go along. Thinking that she would be in no shape to travel even the 15 kilometers or so by car, I brought some medications along, to make her more comfortable if we decided to let her die there.
To my surprise, Yeye was standing outside the house when we arrived. She was quite thin and pale, struggling for every breath, and swelling in her hands and feet, but she was not knocking at death’s door today. For a 12 year-old, she is quite small, about the height of an average 8 year old around here, and weighs only 19 kilograms. She has pronounced stridor throughout the lung fields and air movement only in the left upper lung. She did not seem feverish, but after I gave her some paracetamol and rehydration fluid, she began sweating profusely. I am honestly surprised that she is able to walk! Her younger siblings, who also came back with us are also ill, and I wonder if they all have TB. From a public health standpoint, it seems impossible that anyone in that house could have avoided getting TB. They have a tiny little mud-stick house with poor ventilation and only two small beds for the entire family.
We hope to get Yeye enrolled in the tuberculosis program here, but her prognosis is quite grave. Last night and this morning I prayed that she might live. On the way to the village to pick her up, I prayed for God’s guidance and that I might be able to show His love. On the way back, I praised God that she was strong enough to ride in the car. As my coworker said, “humanly speaking, she will not make it, but God can do miracles.” So, at this point, what we do medically may or may not make a difference. Lord, please communicate love through our actions.