Today at work was a little tough, as the 12 volunteers that started with me are heading home. As a last effort to really make a difference in these people lives, one of my fellow volunteers, Ken, a 41 year old RN from Indianapolis, attempted to help one of the children that has been in our ward for the past month. The following is a post that he wrote about his experiences. I really felt that he put what we have struggled with in the health system in Ghana into such great words.
There is a little boy with dark black skin and big, wide eyes dying about fifty feet from where I sit. I’m typing this in the shade of an ancient tree on the campus of a district hospital in Kpando,a small town in the Volta Region of Ghana. The boy’s name is Prince and he is around 3 years old. Prince has been born to a poor, uneducated family and therefore he has little chance at surviving the infection that is threatening his life today. He is not a member of the National Insurance Scheme, and there is no social safety net for sick children in Ghana. There is no charitable foundation here with fat pockets that will step in and make a difference in his life. Prince has been staying in the children’s ward of the Margaret Marquart hospital for the past month, and his time is growing short.
Prince has a severe osteomyelitis, an difficult to treat infection in the bones and muscles of his left leg. Today, there is new evidence that the infection is in his blood stream as well, and this may well prove to be what takes him. Prince’s skin is cool and dry, its turgor poor. He is dehydrating. I have watched this happen slowly over the past two weeks. His family cannot afford IV hydration, so his mother tries her best to give him sips of water from plastic bags. He is severely malnourished and is showing every physical sign of protein deficiency. This means his body is breaking down his own muscles to use as fuel to keep the important organs functioning. His body is entering a crisis mode and will not have the resources to rebuild tissue in his wound site or fight his infection. His mother tries to give him bites of boiled egg. He is weak and unable to eat without aspirating his small bites. I help her clear his mouth and then , leaning him forward, we rinse it so no more goes down his airway. Frustratingly, this is literally the only thing I can do for him today. The family already owes the Margaret Marquart Hospital 600.00 Ghana Cedis (about 350.00 USD), and the hospital will not refer him to a teaching hospital elsewhere because of this debt.
In the US, regardless of Prince’s economic status, he would probably survive this. There is a good chance he would have already have been treated and released, and he would be back doing the important work of three year olds; playing with toys, throwing tantrums and generally charming the socks off of anyone around. His treatment plan would likely include around the clock antibiotics, and we would test the infection to make sure he’s getting the right ones. He would benefit from IV fluids to help rehydrate his tiny body, and we would run tests on his blood to look at his electrolytes and protein status and blood counts. These tests would let us know if we were on the right track with his treatment. He would most likely get some nutritional support (heavy on the protein please), either through his veins or through a feeding tube going directly into his stomach. He would possibly have a surgery or two stabilize his leg, and we’d look at the progress with xrays and scans. Kids are resilient and can survive things that adults never could. I would bet on Prince surviving in the states.
No matter how much we complain about the cost and the hassle in the US healthcare system, Prince would not die there because we made a choice a long time ago to take care of people who can’t take care of themselves. It’s called Medicaid, and it prevents things like this from happening. Medicaid is a social program, so for those of you convinced we should get rid of all these safety nets in the US, I invite you to come to Ghana and work in a children’s ward for two weeks and see if that doesn’t change your mind.
I’m in Ghana to participate in a two week immersive volunteer experience. I’m with 9 of my colleagues from around the globe. We have lived among the people of the town of Hohoe, a rural village in the middle-eastern section of Ghana. We have learned about the culture, eaten the food, survived the heat, explored the waterfalls and visited the locals in their homes. We have appreciated their art, nursed their sick, taught their children and assisted with their savings accounts.
My trip has been paid for in full by the US based global pharmaceutical company I work for. My colleagues and I are all pretty hurt by Prince’s story. We’ve grumbled, we’ve complained, some of us have cried a little, and we’ve discussed our options. We work for Big Pharma. We are from “The West.” We are educated, street-smart and we have means. We know that we can rush in and intervene on Prince’s behalf. We can break all the rules against donations that this program has in place, pay off Prince’s bills and transport him to Accra, a large, metropolitan city in the south where he would probably get the help he needs to survive. And all of that sounds good on the surface. We could pat ourselves on the back and sleep easy tonight knowing that we helped.
But would we really have helped anything?
Every action has a reaction. Prince’s family is very poor and Accra is five bumpy hours away on congested, poorly maintained roads. He would likely be there for a long time and someone from his family would have to be with him around the clock to provide the basic care that hospitals do not. The care he would get in Accra would be much more “western” and would cost significantly more than what has been charged so far by the Margaret Marquart and there still would be no charities to help financially. His mother would be forced to neglect his siblings and his father would lose the meager wages keeping the family afloat.
What looks like an ideal plan on first glance rarely is.
So we can hope that Prince survives, thrives even. Miracles happen every day, after all. But we can do more. I’m writing this because I feel helpless to intervene directly, but I can tell his story. I can keep up on his progress and I can, maybe sometime down the line, find a better, more substantial way to help out not only Prince, but the tens of thousands of Ghanaian kids that fall through the cracks.
Prince has a severe osteomyelitis, an difficult to treat infection in the bones and muscles of his left leg. Today, there is new evidence that the infection is in his blood stream as well, and this may well prove to be what takes him. Prince’s skin is cool and dry, its turgor poor. He is dehydrating. I have watched this happen slowly over the past two weeks. His family cannot afford IV hydration, so his mother tries her best to give him sips of water from plastic bags. He is severely malnourished and is showing every physical sign of protein deficiency. This means his body is breaking down his own muscles to use as fuel to keep the important organs functioning. His body is entering a crisis mode and will not have the resources to rebuild tissue in his wound site or fight his infection. His mother tries to give him bites of boiled egg. He is weak and unable to eat without aspirating his small bites. I help her clear his mouth and then , leaning him forward, we rinse it so no more goes down his airway. Frustratingly, this is literally the only thing I can do for him today. The family already owes the Margaret Marquart Hospital 600.00 Ghana Cedis (about 350.00 USD), and the hospital will not refer him to a teaching hospital elsewhere because of this debt.
In the US, regardless of Prince’s economic status, he would probably survive this. There is a good chance he would have already have been treated and released, and he would be back doing the important work of three year olds; playing with toys, throwing tantrums and generally charming the socks off of anyone around. His treatment plan would likely include around the clock antibiotics, and we would test the infection to make sure he’s getting the right ones. He would benefit from IV fluids to help rehydrate his tiny body, and we would run tests on his blood to look at his electrolytes and protein status and blood counts. These tests would let us know if we were on the right track with his treatment. He would most likely get some nutritional support (heavy on the protein please), either through his veins or through a feeding tube going directly into his stomach. He would possibly have a surgery or two stabilize his leg, and we’d look at the progress with xrays and scans. Kids are resilient and can survive things that adults never could. I would bet on Prince surviving in the states.
No matter how much we complain about the cost and the hassle in the US healthcare system, Prince would not die there because we made a choice a long time ago to take care of people who can’t take care of themselves. It’s called Medicaid, and it prevents things like this from happening. Medicaid is a social program, so for those of you convinced we should get rid of all these safety nets in the US, I invite you to come to Ghana and work in a children’s ward for two weeks and see if that doesn’t change your mind.
I’m in Ghana to participate in a two week immersive volunteer experience. I’m with 9 of my colleagues from around the globe. We have lived among the people of the town of Hohoe, a rural village in the middle-eastern section of Ghana. We have learned about the culture, eaten the food, survived the heat, explored the waterfalls and visited the locals in their homes. We have appreciated their art, nursed their sick, taught their children and assisted with their savings accounts.
My trip has been paid for in full by the US based global pharmaceutical company I work for. My colleagues and I are all pretty hurt by Prince’s story. We’ve grumbled, we’ve complained, some of us have cried a little, and we’ve discussed our options. We work for Big Pharma. We are from “The West.” We are educated, street-smart and we have means. We know that we can rush in and intervene on Prince’s behalf. We can break all the rules against donations that this program has in place, pay off Prince’s bills and transport him to Accra, a large, metropolitan city in the south where he would probably get the help he needs to survive. And all of that sounds good on the surface. We could pat ourselves on the back and sleep easy tonight knowing that we helped.
But would we really have helped anything?
Every action has a reaction. Prince’s family is very poor and Accra is five bumpy hours away on congested, poorly maintained roads. He would likely be there for a long time and someone from his family would have to be with him around the clock to provide the basic care that hospitals do not. The care he would get in Accra would be much more “western” and would cost significantly more than what has been charged so far by the Margaret Marquart and there still would be no charities to help financially. His mother would be forced to neglect his siblings and his father would lose the meager wages keeping the family afloat.
What looks like an ideal plan on first glance rarely is.
So we can hope that Prince survives, thrives even. Miracles happen every day, after all. But we can do more. I’m writing this because I feel helpless to intervene directly, but I can tell his story. I can keep up on his progress and I can, maybe sometime down the line, find a better, more substantial way to help out not only Prince, but the tens of thousands of Ghanaian kids that fall through the cracks.
Elizabeth - sounds like a really tough day. We are working on getting you some more supplies - our prayers go with you - if you get a chance to buy a new camera - do it.
ReplyDeleteLove Dad
Hi, Elizabeth. This is, indeed, a very moving post. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteAs for the goodbyes, they're difficult, aren't they? Even though it's only been a couple of weeks I can imagine that you've grown quite close with your fellow volunteers. I've always found that the bonds that I formed with friends while abroad were among some of the strongest I've experienced.
I hope you have a nice weekend.
~Kelly
Thank you and the fellow volunteer for sharing this. Definitely makes you think.
ReplyDelete