Korlebu Teaching Hospital

While in Ghana this time around I was able to visit several hospitals and clinics. I got such a feel for the medical services, how people are treated for various illnesses and how much they can do with so little. They actually do treat, serve and care for the community of ill and needy people in Accra. It may be to different standards than we are used to, but it is kind and humane treatment of the sick. People die. In fact, nearly every time I visited a hospital I witnessed a person die while awaiting treatment.

On one particular night, we were in the pediatric ward. One of the kiddos in my care had been feeling bad through out the day and eventually required a trip to the hospital. We arrived at the hospital around 10pm. We were the only people checking in at that time. Once they got my kiddo weighed and triaged, a man came in carrying a bundle. The nurse instructed him to unwrap the baby so it could be weighed and seen. As the dad unwrapped her, the nurse that was with me (K) tapped me on the shoulder and said "look at that baby, she doesn't look well."

The rest is in slow motion in my brain, but burned there all the same. I remember grabbing the tiny baby and putting her on the baby scale. She was naked except for the red string of beads around her waist and wrist. I pinched her and thumped her feet as I was leaning over her listening for breathing. This baby was not breathing and not responding to any of my stimulation. Without even thinking I tilted her head back and began to give her mouth to mouth. I began chest compressions and kept it going for what seemed like 10 minutes. The Ghanaian nurse stood and watched. I'm sure she knows the outcome all too well. I had the nurse that was with me (K) feel for pulses while I continued CPR. I remember her telling me to stop, it was no use. My brain kept telling me that the baby was warm, keep going. The dad was standing immediately to my right. I could see him, staring, in a trance as this horrible scene unfolded.

When I finally stopped, I looked at him. He said to me "It is no?" "I'm sorry" was all I could come up with. He walked away, his face expressionless. No sign of sadness, anger or confusion. He was blank. I picked up the tiny baby girl and wrapped her back in the blanked she had come in. The nurse instructed me to "put it down over there" and pointed to a stretcher behind a folding screen. In retrospect, I wonder if that was the sole purpose of that particular stretcher. I laid her down on that stretcher and prayed over her lifeless body. I still see her little body and her little face.

I ducked behind another screen and had a little crying spell. I don't know who I was crying for. It just seemed so sad and unnecessary for that 5 day old infant to die. A man saw me and explained to me that I shouldn't cry. This is natures way. I suppose it's the coping mechanism of choice to keep you from going insane in a country where lots of people die. I can't blame him for that. I felt guilty about my sadness. It made me feel pompous. Like where I come from babies don't die, and that we are able to save everyone. I don't know...it is still very surreal and my feelings about it are still fresh.

Then I had a moment of clarity about the very real possibility of contracting some disease thanks to my CPR. I cleaned out my mouth with my antibacterial wipes. I wiped my teeth, lips and gums. I cleaned my hands, face, neck and arms. Finally a doctor came and I explained to him what had happened with the baby. He checked her pupils, removed his gloves, washed his hands and went on with his evening seeing the child I had brought.

30 minutes in time that will stay with me forever.