The Other Side of Christmas Week--part two

For part one of this story, click here.

After the nurse carried Gladys away, I sat back on the bed stunned. I picked up my phone and sent a Blackberry chat message to Debbie. She cried with me and I was so grateful again for God sending her to me at just the right moment.

Then, I had to call Meg. Gladys was more her baby than mine. She didn't answer her phone--later she told me that she saw that the call was coming from me and didn't want to here the words--so I left a voice message and felt sick to my stomach after.

I wondered how the other ladies in the ward were viewing me. In the space of 3 hours, two moms had lost babies but the reactions were very different. I had very little outward show of grief. I shed tears but they were quiet and mostly unseen. The other mother had cried aloud and at length. I voiced this question to Debbie and she reminded me that "we do not grieve as those who have no hope". Very true.

Zambians are also very social people. Part of the outward grieving is to let their family and friends know that they are sad and in need of special comfort. The entire village will gather at the sound of the wailing and wail also to show camaraderie and community.

I wanted to hold out hope for Joseph, but as I looked at him, lying so very still on the stark hospital bed, I wasn't sure. We still didn't know what was attacking his body. He had shown some improvement after some fluids via IV, but once the drip stopped he looked wan and weak again. 

Despite a negative malaria test, the decision was made to start him on quinine injections. Quinine is sa lifesaving, but extremely harsh drug. It can have terrible side effects--one of which is deafness--and is usually reserved for emergency cases. I hated that we had to give that to tiny Joseph, but there was nothing I could do.

He was also started on a second, more powerful antibiotic. His little body was being bombarded and I just hoped that we would see improvement soon.

Later that morning we were moved to a private room. I was so thankful! The room was tiny, but the bed had linens on it, there was a sink in the corner--no running water, but I could bring water in and do dishes--and a couch which turned out to be useless since it had no seat to it. That was OK. Remember my packing list from yesterday's post? One of the things I packed was a folding camp chair. Lifesaver!

I have to say here how grateful I was (and am) for our friends. The hospital was an hour away from home, so impractical for Tom to come back once he'd dropped us off. But, our good friends, Sanjay and Jackie stay there in that town. Three times a day they brought meals. I was so grateful! There was really nowhere else to get food. Jackie was a star--not only bringing a sandwich, but bringing full cooked meals. She even remember napkins and everything! It made such a difference to have that break in my day when meals and some conversation walked through my door.

Meanwhile, Joseph was still quite sick. He was so uncomfortable and seemed to be in pain, but didn't want to be held much or touched. He just lay on his back tossing his head back and forth and whimpering softly. He had no energy to drink so every two hours I had to coax him to take some milk from the bottle and then slowly pour more into his mouth bit by bit. 

There would be times when his eyes would roll around and I couldn’t tell if he was just tired or was dropping into something worse. My nerves were totally shot after caring for Gladys and how that had ended. I searched Joseph’s face endlessly hoping to see a spark of improvement.

The hospital still hadn’t taken any blood to test. The stool sample I’d given them had been corrupted. So, after 3 days, we still had no idea what was wrong.

Then, miraculously, Joseph began to show interest in his food again. He still couldn’t drink much at a time, but he wanted to—and that means all the difference in the world. He also tolerated me holding him again. I was able to pour all my love into him with cuddles and kisses. He even gave me half a smile. Nectar for my soul!

After a third night on an IV drip, he was finally rehydrated. With regular feedings I was able to maintain his fluid levels. It was Christmas Eve and I was hopeful we could go home. With careful instructions on his medications still needed (they could all be given orally) I was confident I could finish is convalescence at home. I just wanted to be at home with my family!

Thankfully, the doctor agreed. I bundled Joseph up, gathered our many survival possessions and his all important medicines and climbed into a taxi for the hour long ride home. As a special gift from God, my taxi driver was playing Christmas music and I sang along and felt a bit of Christmas spirit entering my soul.

Coming home after time away and jumping back into a household is always a challenge. When you’re doing it on the eve of arguably the biggest holiday of the year, when you are completely sleep deprived, well, let’s just say it is a recipe for disaster.

My family had done a wonderful job in my absence, baking some of my favorite cookies and wrapping all the presents for the little kids.

Later that night, as we cleared up from dinner, Jasmine asked me why someone had put away all the cookies but left about six still on the tray. I thought that was weird too, and then it dawned on me—Buzz had struck again! That naughty, rascally dog had eaten a few dozen cookies right off the tray. No more cookies for Christmas Day! Unfortunately, that was the proverbial last straw for me. I began to weep. All the pressure and struggle of an entire week culminated in that moment. We had to have the special Christmas cookies! Or Christmas would be ruined! 

Tom very wisely bundled me off to bed with the sage advice that it would all be better in the morning. And, do you know? He was right. I got up every couple hours to feed Joseph (he was now crying for his food. Hallelujah!) but was still able to wake up early. I stuffed stockings, set out a special breakfast, and wrapped the few presents our family would receive, just in time for my big kids and hubby to wake up. Then, we were able to do our Children's Christmas Party. 

Day by day, Joseph improved. His trademark grins returned. One day he even giggled! He giggled! He was on his way back! Aside from his half shaved head (we really ought to do the other and create a baby Mr. T), you can't even tell he was sick. 

Thank you all for the encouraging comments you've been leaving me. I really appreciate your encouragement. Having a cyber community means the world to me!

The Other Side of Christmas Week

This is a long story--it will be in two parts.
 
The week leading up to Christmas is supposed to be full of fun. There should be gift wrapping, and hiding or piling presents under the tree.

There should be cookie baking and decorating. The scent of cinnamon and cloves should be wafting through the air.

There should be "tales of the Christmases long long ago".

Sadly, for our family here in Africa, this wasn't the case. Tuesday morning, December 20th, I realized that two of our children who seemed to have been battling some type of stomach bug were not doing well at all. Gladys had been unwell for some time--she was wasting away--but we couldn't find the cause. We gave her extra food, changed her diet, coaxed her to eat just a bit more, treated her with antibiotics, took her to the clinic, gave her vitamins, but she was really listless. We cuddled her close, and gave her rehydration drinks, but she just got worse. After failing to get an IV started with the local clinic on Monday, I sat up all night feeding her rehydration fluid. She took in the amount of fluid she should have, and didn't lose much, but she still didn't improve.

Joseph had also been troubled with a funny tummy. But, rather than bouncing back after electrolyte laden drinks and extra care, he got worse.

Tuesday I realized we would have to take a trip to the hospital. This is not the no-brainer it would be in the U.S or Europe. Many times there aren't even doctors in the hospitals. Since this was right before Christmas, this was an even greater possibility.

I also had to pack carefully. The hospital only has the very basic of equipment and very few staff members. I have to prepare for days ahead and think of all eventualities. I needed clothes and diapers and food and bottles for at least a couple days. I needed to pack dish soap and a bottle brush to be able to clean the bottles since the hospital is an hour away and I wouldn't be able to dash home to do dishes. Plus, there would be no nurse to look after the sick children to give me a break. I would need to be there the entire time.

Picture a Civil War hospital from Gone with the Wind (only with IV antibiotics and plastic bags) and you can imagine what I was taking the children to.

Thankfully, we found the hospital fully staffed (by Zambian standards) and even the District Head of Health was there. As soon as I got the two babies into the children's ward, nurses and doctors tried to start an IV. They succeeded with Joseph fairly quickly, but Gladys' veins were just too small.

Since she was still able to drink, the docs suggested we just keep up with the bottle feeding every 15-20 minutes. This I did. Meanwhile, Joseph began to look a bit better with the IV drip going.

Jasmine accompanied me to the hospital since it could be challenging for me to handle two sick babies at once. We were put into the general children's ward. I had asked for a private room, but there were none available. We shared the eight bed room with three other patients and their families. There was a 6 month old baby one bed over that was coughing and gasping for air--obviously a bad case of pneumonia. "That baby is going to die," was Jasmine's comment. My heart broke that my sixteen year old daughter who should be out enjoying her first car, perhaps her first boyfriend, trying out makeup and new dance moves, has seen death up close and personal enough times to recognize its face.

Later that night, as we continued to watch over the babies, Gladys' breathing changed and she got very cold. Immediately we asked for hot water bottles and when there were none to be found, we poured hot water into any container we could find and I held them close to her body as we cuddled on a chair. She was still able to swallow, but had lost the desire to suck or drink from a bottle. I continued to pour tiny amounts of fluid into her mouth ever 15 minutes.

As all of this was going on, I noticed that the baby two beds over had grown very quiet. Her mom noticed around the same time, and a nurse came over to check. That sweet baby was gone. Immediately the mom began to weep and wail with loud cries. All of us in the room felt her pain. For two hours she cried aloud and spoke to the baby and moved restlessly around the room. It was one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever seen or been a part of. The father had quietly left the room and returned two hours later with a taxi driver so they could take the baby home. As sad as I was, I was also glad not to have to listen to her cry anymore--it was exhausting--and yes, I feel badly for feeling that way.

A couple more hours passed. I continued to push the fluids and adjust the hot water 'bottles' to keep Gladys warm. She had warmed up and was resting quietly. Jasmine had gone to sleep in one of the hospital beds getting some well deserved rest since it was now the early hours of the morning.  
About this time my friend Debbie popped up on my Blackberry Messenger. I was so glad to have a friend to talk to at that very moment. We chatted about my U.S kids, a recent mission trip they'd taken together, and various other light topics. It was a great distraction as I dealt with the fact that someone's precious baby had just died and I was holding the fragile life of another in my arms.

Gladys had fallen asleep, so clutching my phone in my hand, I climbed up onto the hospital bed and cuddled with Gladys. It was just after four in the morning and I'd been awake for nearly 48 hours. Without realizing it, I fell asleep still holding Gladys. I awoke to the doctor entering the room. Immediately alert, I began briefing him on Gladys and the changes I'd seen, and what treatments had been given. It was then I realized that Gladys was not breathing. 

Glancing at my phone, I saw that I had been asleep for only 15 minutes. In that short time, Gladys had passed from my arms to His. I was really sad. and disappointed. and confused. Whatever bacteria or virus had attacked her was just too strong. The nurse wrapped her carefully in a sheet and carried her away. I would have loved to have just lain down and given into my exhaustion and grief, but there was another baby--little Joseph, who was still very sick and needed my attention.

Come back tomorrow to read part two.

Meg wrote a beautiful post with her memories of Gladys. Please go check it out and take a moment to get to know this precious child who lived with us too briefly.

LIfe at a Fever Pitch

Every day I promise myself that I will sit down and write a proper blog post but something gets in the way. every. single. day.

For now let me share what has been going on. 

I arrived home from New York to find two new babies. Jessie has been keeping me up at night. It's been interesting how when I want to do nothing but indulge my grief or exhaustion, something comes up to keep me busy. I guess God knows what is best for me and that it is better that I am busy.

By the way, I want to thank you all for your kind words over the last several weeks. It has meant so much to me to have you out there praying for me and holding me up in your thoughts.

Jessie has been having a rough time of it. On Wednesday we took her to the clinic to put an NG tube in since she was not eating nearly enough milk. Later that afternoon she had some time of seizure or stomach spasm and the tube came right out. 

Friday the clinic midwife came up and put in an IV but somehow in the process the vein blew and the IV had to be pulled out.

This whole experience has been so frustrating because Jessie is such a fighter but the odds are not good. Our regular clinic officer has not been present because he has been attending action meetings in the district capital. As much as we want to see action being taken in our area, it's hard when the people who can make that action happen are stuck in meetings and babies are suffering in the meantime.

We've been giving Jessie sips of milk all day and night hoping to help her keep something down. After each 'feeding' she has to be held upright so that her stomach can digest the milk properly. So often though, the milk would still come right up and Jessie would cry in hunger and the process would begin again.

This morning her color was not good and she was much more lethargic. The midwife refused to put in her feeding tube again and the clinic officer was nowhere to be found. With a prayer in our hearts, Meg and I inserted the tube again. It was a success! Jessie has now had four feedings and hasn't even so much as spit up. Hooray! We are by no means out of the woods but we are hopeful.

In other news: A team of six ladies from Houston, Texas arrived Friday morning full of enthusiasm. Already so much work has gotten done and Meg and I have been able to get some time off from the round-the-clock care of Jessie. Hooray for extra hands!

The morning they arrived on the bus was our regular shopping trip day so I went alone with our hired driver and had probably one of the most frustrating 'Africa' days of my life but I was safe and came home to a house full of laughter and fun. It's so good to have company in the bush.

This has been my life recently. What have all of you been up to? I have been slowly making my way through my reader and visiting each of you. I apologize for not commenting more and hope to do better as life settles down. It will, won't it?

(Almost) Exactly One Year Ago: It's Their Party

I apologize that I haven't written for a couple days. It's been crazy 'round these parts. I've been wrapping up a construction project that we received a grant to be able to do. It's wonderful to make improvements to the orphanage. 

On top of that, I've been doing my regular work--trying to keep up with all the paperwork that a charity generates.

But, most seriously of all, I've been caring for our babies. Nicholas (6 months old) has been sick for nearly a week. It started with some tummy issues. I kept an eye on him and waited to see what would develop--to see if it was a 24 hour bug. The following day he had symptoms that were classic malaria so we treated him with the malaria medicine most recommended for tiny babies and pregnant mothers. I also switched him off milk for a day to give his stomach a rest and only gave him oral re-hydration (ORS) fluid. He didn't really improve. The next day we added some watery, salty baby cereal and while his diarrhea seemed to be curbed, his vomiting continued. 

His eyes have been sunken and he is quite listless. Thankfully, his skin has retained its elasticity so he wasn't badly dehydrated. The fluids were doing their job. 

When the vomiting didn't stop, I took him down to the clinic to see about putting in an IV so he could get fluids intravenously and give his stomach a break. I also wanted to get an injection for him to stop the vomiting.

I could write an entire post about the clinic experience, but let's leave it at the fact that they could not get an IV started, there was no 'doctor' on duty, and the clinic had no IV drugs to stop the vomiting. Eventually the nurse said she had medicine at home. She walked home, came back with the vial and gave Nicholas his shot.

We also decided to do another round of a different malaria medicine.

The medicine seemed to work. In the morning, Nicholas looked a bit better. We reintroduced milk slowly and kept giving him extra fluids. By the afternoon though, Nicholas had faded again. He was vomiting again, but funnily enough it was only when he had ORS fluids, not milk. I gave him some syrup to stop the vomiting and by the morning he was a bit better.

The thing with malaria is that you can feel so much better in the morning but the symptoms come crashing back at night. Friday afternoon Nicholas was 16 hours away from being done with malaria treatment but looked worse than ever. He was limp and listless.

All this time I had been looking after Grace and supervising Nicholas' treatments along with taking him to the clinic. I needed to be able to sleep (somewhat) at night and feeding a baby 2-3 times at night is easier than sitting up with a sick baby all night. We employ a night nanny so I was relying on her to look after Nicholas per my instructions and I would check on him many times during the day and night.

But now, with Nicholas looking so terrible I switched out babies. Since the clinic could not get an IV started, I decided to insert the IV fluids in via the rectum. I wanted to give Nicholas a break from having to work so hard on sucking his bottle. The fluids were in overnight but didn't really make much of a difference.

As of now, we are still unsure what is wrong. He should be over the malaria. He is eating well (although we're still giving him frequent, small amounts) but tires so easily. He also seems to be in pain. His breathing is elevated when awake as if something hurts terribly. He has received a powerful antibiotic injection and we're waiting to see if it makes a difference. His vomiting and diarrhea have stopped for which we are very grateful but we don't know what the underlying illness or infection is. 

Please pray for Nicholas' full recovery and that the antibiotics will work fast and furiously. I am incredibly grateful that Nicholas is not one of our HIV babies. At least he is fighting with everything in him. Thank you for praying!

Down for the Count

Ok, that title is a bit dramatic but when have I ever missed out on a chance to give my writing that extra twist?

Yesterday I felt just awful--backache, headache, a feeling of foreboding and hopelessness and every joint felt out of place. By the evening it became clear that I most likely had malaria.

I waited until morning to take the medicine because I wanted to be sure but after a restless night I had no doubt it was malaria. The funny thing with malaria is you can feel much better during the day but by the night it all comes back again.

For example, I actually managed to get a report done and emailed out today but now as we approach 5 PM I can feel the parasites beginning to circulate again. I know...TMI!

Today was regular shopping day and so Tom and everyone else headed out early this morning. We decided that the only way I'd get any rest was if I pretended to be out with  them as well. So, I gave the kitchen lady all her instructions and then ducked into the house as Tom and the kids left. 

Just after they left I realized my mistake. I'd brought no food or water into the house with me (there isn't even any Christmas candy left after a particularly PMS-ridden day earlier this week).

I don't think we fooled anyone anyway. Our manager came to my door twice and knocked insistently. 

By 1:30 this afternoon I was starving so since I knew the staff would be eating in their lunch room I dashed across the yard into the kitchen to prepare some lunch. I left evidence of my cooking  and since they don't have elves as part of the local lore, I'm pretty sure I'm busted. No matter. I will continue to ignore the knocks at the door and get my rest.

This is quite possibly my 10th episode of malaria in my life--I've honestly lost count so I kinda take it in stride. It can be serious but treated quickly and properly can mean all the difference. I've had hepatitis since being in Africa so I have to be extra careful--both diseases affect the liver but if I take care and rest I'll be just fine. Thanks for your prayers.

My Heart Just Broke a Little More

Baby Sara lost her fight with pneumonia this afternoon. For the past couple days we felt she was not responding well to the antibiotics but there didn't seem to be much else we could do. We did use our oxygen machine (she hated that!), and also pulled out every natural remedy we could find. 

Today, around noon, she took a turn for the worse and really began to struggle to breathe. When I saw how she didn't even fight the oxygen anymore, my heart sank. Our sweet volunteer, Summer, took turns with me holding Sara and loving on her. Summer was holding her as she took her last breath.

I have so many words right now swirling around in my brain. I'm going to go to bed (is it wrong that I'm looking forward to sleeping through the night?) and I'll write more tomorrow.

Thank you for continuing to pray and I will see you tomorrow. I can't tell you how wonderful it is to know that you are on the other side of my computer screen. I love you all!

Battling Boredom

Chola has recovered well from his surgery. He had a little birth defect that involved something not being in it's right place--otherwise known as 'undescended'. While it was getting descended, we decided to do a Junior nip and tuck otherwise known as circumcision. This is one of the big HIV/AIDS preventions that are being touted so we want to set a good example for the community by having this taken care of for all the kids. I understand this isn't the choice each person would make but it was/is the best for here.

We took Chola to a private missionary hospital which, while miles ahead in standard from a government hospital, was still pretty bare bones. I felt sorry for Chola as he had very little to do for the 2 days he had to stay there.

He had his coloring, painting, puzzles, books, and flashcards to keep him busy plus an Alphabet Go Fish game but when you're four years old your attention span is pretty small. He spent a lot of time sighing and staring at the walls. Poor kid.

I was oh, so grateful for mealtime because eating kept him occupied for at least 45 minutes even though (or perhaps because) the food was awful. The only color on the dinner plate was a dried out orange. White bread with sour cream(?), boiled potatoes with mayonnaise but no seasoning, a boiled egg, rice pudding and milk. It would take me hours to force that stuff down too.

In the meantime, you might be wondering what kept me from climbing the walls. I'm so glad you asked. I brought plenty to keep me occupied as well because, I'm a bit embarrassed to mention, that I don't have a much longer attention span than a four-year-old. My mom once said that I must think a lot. "Oh, because I'm smart?" "Well, because you talk so much." Oh, Mom, you don't have to think to talk.....  But I digress!

For my entertainment I brought:

Crossstiching! I've been an avid crosssticher for 6 years now. I've done large and small projects and it is one of the things that keeps me sane. Focusing on tiny stitches gives me a sense of control and the opportunity to create beauty in a mad, uncontrollable, and sometimes ugly world. Wow! that was a negative statement. Look at the pretty flowers!

Next, I brought a book. Ok, I brought three (and one of those was actually four in one). I was scared of running out of reading material. I obsess that way.

Alright, you've forced the confession out of me! I also brought eight books on computer! A friend introduced me to Kindle for PCs and I love it! Can't you tell by the unnecessary exclamatory marks! It was a good thing that I had all those things to read because I did finish all my books and one computer one and started on another on computer.

A new toy for me was my phone. I'm a little bit addicted to Diner Dash. And! I got internet access on my phone this past week! I was able to check in with Facebook and also access Google for important things like 'what is Eggs Benedict?'. Tom just had to have that for breakfast so he called me up and I looked it up on Google. Whatever did we do in the dark ages of the 1990's without our friend Google?

What would you pack as essential for getting through 2 days of boredom?

Raphael

We had technical difficulties yesterday. Sorry to keep you waiting.....

While I was traveling last Tuesday Tom called to tell me a new baby had been brought to the orphanage. His mom had just died and he was 3 months old. I asked them to send the baby's family to get the necessary paperwork from the Social Welfare department as well as get a check up for the baby from the clinic.

The next morning everything had been done and Raphael joined our little family. I asked Jasmine how he was and all she could say was that he had big eyes.

When I got home on Friday morning I found out Jasmine was right. Those are some eyes. Raphael was also very tiny. I weighed him in our clinic using our trusty fish scale. He weighed only 3 kg. (6.6 lbs) at 3 and a half months old! I looked over his paperwork and found out that he has been exposed to the HIV virus. According to his grandfather, Raphael's mother was the victim of sexual hit and run--his words. Raphael's father had not been involved at all and married another woman. When a child has been exposed to HIV in utero the normal procedure is to start them on an antibiotic to help keep infections away since their immune system is most likely compromised since the mother's immune system was not doing its job.

I noted that Raphael was eating well--3 ounces at a feeding--and keeping it all down. For his size it wasn't a bad amount. Saturday morning the nanny informed me that Raphael was starting to cry about 30 minutes before his feeding scheduled every 3 hours. I told her to increase his formula to 4 ounces since he seemed able to handle it and did look pretty miserable.

That evening Debbie told me she thought that he was looking listless in the afternoon. When he joined us for Family Playtime I immediately saw that he was not doing well. I didn't know whether to be sad or proud when Jasmine took one look at him and could tell he was dehydrated. I was proud of her for having that knowledge but sad that at 14 years old she has been around enough sickness to spot it right away.

We immediately called for the village medical officer to come up and put in an IV. About an hour later he showed up and we got to work. We started the examination in the dining room using the table directly under the light but then moved down to the clinic.

The first step was to get an IV line in so we could administer fluids as well as antibiotics. Miraculously we were able to get a line going on the first try.

Debbie was a real blessing holding a flashlight and shining it wherever it needed to go. We had a light in the clinic and electricity (Thank goodness) but it wasn't really bright enough for the work we needed to do.

Here Debbie is watching the IV drip carefully. Such tiny babies can go into cardiac arrest if the fluids go in too quickly. This is one of the things that keeps me up at night when we have such sick babies. I constantly monitor the drip rate because it can change depending on the angle of the needle, the activity of the baby, etc.

Here Raphael is finally all fitted out with his drip and splint to keep it in place.

After getting fluids in him Raphael began to perk up a bit but is still a pretty sick baby. The following day we introduced a third antibiotic. The next morning (today) I had the medical officer insert an NG tube allowing me to feed the baby with a syringe. Raphael has been so weak that he hasn't been able to suck much from the bottle. The NG tube gives me a way to continue to feed him all the milk he needs. I offer him the bottle first for about 15 minutes and then I use a syringe to push the rest of the milk through the tube. 

He had two tube feedings today and it made an immediate difference. He has been crying more and letting us know his needs. This afternoon he drank two ounces by himself and I only had to add another ounce through the tube.

He is still quite sick and needs plenty of prayer but I am cautiously optimistic. I will continue to update you as time goes on. Thanks for praying!

Adventures in baby care.

We have a new baby! Peter comes from a village called Lukwesa which is about a 30 minute drive south of us. Little Peter was brought to our door Thursday morning. His mom passed away during childbirth and after his family tried to care for him but just couldn't because milk is so expensive they brought him to us. Sadly, at 13 days old he was in pretty bad shape. He is severely malnourished and dehydrated. The family was only giving him some formula from a sippy cup twice a day.
He also has very congested lungs and some diarrhea. All of this is going to be challenging to work with so we have agreed to take Peter in for one month. If he survives the first month he will become a permanent part of this orphanage.



Peter's dad (also named Peter) looks really young but is actually the father to 6 children. The lady sitting next to him is his mother-in-law. Little Peter's grandmother. I can't even begin to imagine what it feels like to sit in an office not even two weeks after the death of your daughter or wife and try to find a new home for your son or grandson.

Oh, don't be confused by the pink get-up. Peter is indeed a boy. (I checked) Most babies brought to us are clothed in girls' things. I'm not sure why. Almost never will a girl be brought in say, sports clothes. Also, the community seems to share clothing because whenever a baby is brought to us the relatives ask us to hand back the clothing because 'they've borrowed it'.


Because of Peter's fragile condition we called in the local clinic officer and also phoned a doctor in Lusaka. Between the two of them, and thanks to a grant which enabled us to build a little clinic and stock it with basic medical supplies, we got Peter examined and set up with an IV drip of dextrose (sugar water) and two different medicines.

He is lying on a bed Tom installed that folds up against the wall when not in use to save space. It's just like a train berth. The chain also makes a handy holder for the IV bag. We tied it up there with some gauze.

It's hard to tell from this photo but Peter is very tiny. At 13 days old he weighed only 2.6 kg (5.75 lbs) and was 51 cm (20.4 in.) long. His skin was completely wrinkled from dehydration and he doesn't appear to have body fat anywhere. His skull is shrunken so the bones are overlapping some. I plan on weighing him this morning and hope to see some improvement.

The stick next to his arm is a splint we used to hold his arm straight for the IV. It didn't really work because he is a little fighter and kept waving the whole stick around so I ended up just sitting next to him to keep his arm still.

As of this morning, nearly two days after his arrival I am cautiously optimistic. We still have a long way to go. His lungs are quite congested but thankfully he does not appear to have pneumonia. We have him on a 10 day course of antibiotics and will put him on IV fluids periodically.

He is drinking some milk but struggles with the sucking part. Also when he does get a good suck going he forgets to breathe and that sends him into a spasm of coughing. He is drinking about 30-50 mls per feeding. That is around 2-3 Tbsp.

Please pray with us that we can indeed nurse him back to full health. We lost a couple babies this year who were brought to us in such a state so we/I am finding myself very nervous. Even when Peter sleeps at night I wake up every few minutes and check his breathing. He and I are sleeping in the living room--I am on the couch and he is in a little laundry basket next to me. I look forward to the day he outgrows it.

Thank you for praying. Stay tuned for updates.

Related Posts: At the Hospital
                       Peter and His Sister