New Vocation

Good work today! Krista and I volunteered for wound care! Sister Mary was respectful and obviously now trusts Krista to execute the procedures (finally!) so, under Kole's guidance I had my first taste of medicine. Just the smallest dose. And it went great.

We cleaned and bandaged wounds and dressed burns and sterilized bed sores and even watched Joan, the  paramedic from London, set an arm and build a cast. For the next month we will be working together and tonight I will fall asleep excited about tomorrow.

I have to tell you, the thing that hits me hardest is the way women in Prem Dan in excruciating pain just clench their teeth and take it- these are the strongest women I have ever seen. I helped dress the burns on a beautiful little girl who couldnt have been older than 11. She had big innocent eyes and a small frame and sat patiently while we peeled gauze bandages away from her blistered skin. She has deep burns on both shins, her torso, her back and her upper arms-where more than likely boiling liquid had been thrown on her. She closed her eyes, turned her head to the side and did not utter a sound as we sterilized the area- her body gave her away though and she shivered uncontrollably.

The broken arm was a young patient-22 years old who had a long history with Prem Dan. She was gorgeous- the most gorgeous girl I have seen here, tall and slender with graceful limbs and a shaved head (all patients are shaved because lice is such a problem)-she carried herself defiantly, though. Joan scolded her in Bengali and then explained to us that she was a drug addict who would show up at hospitals with wounds or burns and as soon as she had medication would disappear- breaking out at night from any institution that tried to keep her. I nodded to the hand of her broken arm- the  index finger was curled and claw like- I wondered if it was a birth defect or an injury. "Oh, you want to see?" she said firmly but not angrily in perfect English, and turned her palm over revealing two missing middle fingers and the shortened pinky. "Train", she said flatly. I asked her if she had broken her arm by hopping trains as well. "Yes." Joan wrapped her arm in wet plaster bandages and told her to leave the cast for six weeks- the girl laughed at her. Joan thinks she will tire of it and eventually try to cut it off herself.

So many cases-each one of them unique- some injuries are granted at birth, others are given by husbands, some self -inflicted. To burn yourself and disfigure yourself horribly is a practiced form of public shame or a cruel tactic used by "big brothers" to get more money out of their begging slaves, playing on the pity of tourists. There is a couple in the slums outside the gate of Prem Dan who pitifully plead with us for medicine for their child- an infant who has deep gashes along the side of her ribs that extend under her arm. The injury is infected- terribly infected- and the little girl is always crying and exhausted with pain. The sisters have refused care-which seems cruel except that apparently the mother and father keep the child in pain, irritate the wound to keep it from healing and more than likely even created the problem for the strong pain pills they assumed they could get. This is a savage world.

Today I loved being here and my hands have found plenty to do. Out of the laundrey line and into surgical gloves.

Goodnight from me and good morning to you,

Ev