Shanti called us last night. She had gone on her off time - a Sunday afternoon - to visit Sarita - a young girl with TB.
When she arrived at her house, Shanti found that Sarita had just died.
It was a shock - and yet sadly was not unexpected. The little girl had been brought to us 10 days ago by a church volunteer. Sarita had tuberculosis. One of her lungs was totally shut down. Another hardly working. She was HIV negative - but the TB had ravaged the beautiful breath-sacs that God had given her. She had apparently taken the full course of treatment and was sputum negative. The TB bacterium were dead - but not before they had destroyed her ability to breathe.
We took on Sarita's case with little hope of cure. But a little hope is still hope. Three years ago another little girl had been brought to us. She had suffered from TB meningitis and had lost the sight in one eye. The municipal hospital had sent her home to die. We were able to start her on treatment again - and she survived. Her parents asked whether she would ever see again. We had her evaluated by an opthalmologist who said it was impossible - the damage to her eye was too great. Amazingly, a few months later we found that this girl had even regained sight in the eye that the expert had written off!
In Sarita's case we did not see such a beautiful outcome. We had hoped that with love and care and encouragement to eat she may just be able to pull through. Our nursing staff started visiting on alternate days. We were able to encourage her and her parents. But she just didn't pull through. Her little lungs just couldn't cope any more and she passed away. Add one more to the 8000 fellow-citizens who died of Tuberculosis on Sunday.
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Malcolm's story is very different - but no less tragic. His mother called up one of our staff on Saturday to announce that he had died. A thin gaunt man, he had been abandonned by his wife - tired of the alcohol abuse and beatings that she got from him, well before we met him. Apart from a son who lived with him on and off - and his aged mother, Malcolm was alone. The many relatives in his locality were tired of caring for him. His repeated bouts of alcoholism did not gain him any sympathy or support.
Our staff visited Malcolm repeatedly. We helped him get admission at a hospice. He argued with the staff there and had to be discharged on their insistence. It was back to his mother again. The aging overweight lady was bent with sorrows - and her own sicknesses - as well as caring for her gaunt son. Her grandson was shunted between relatives.
We see real hope when people work to get better. Its hard, very hard, when our staff and volunteers love and serve - and then see patterns of self-destructive behaviour - which end up in self-destruct. HIV has claimed another person in Malcolm. Its heart-breaking to see the destruction that continues all around us - invisible to the shiny, bustling throngs all around us. In a time when many celebrate a festival of lights - one thin man has slipped away.
What of eternity? What manner of choice each one of us has in our hands, in our lives...
(all names are pseudonyms of course)
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