Tuesday, February 21, 2012

it's not fair.

i can't do this.

i can't have my heart break across an ocean.

i can't hear that she's sick. i can't hear how there's a special doctor that she can't afford. how she can no longer work. how she lays in her house helpless. 

i have so many questions for her. questions i ask my patients every day. when did this all start? where does it hurt? what makes it better? i need to know what is going on.

my mind reels...i count all the kinds of headaches that can kill you when hiv has invaded your body. she can't have one of them.

she tells me what medications they've given her. clearly they aren't working because she feels like she's been cut into four pieces.

if she were here, everything would be different. there are blood tests and ct scans that could tell what this is. there's a prescription pad in my pocket that could fix this. but she's there.

anger wells up because it's JUST NOT FAIR. 

why is she there and why am i here and why is life always so hard? why do i get a hospital bed for 3 days for a pneumonia that would never kill me while she keeping walking on red earth as her blood counts continue to drop and her body crumbles in pain? why does she have the technology to message me updates in real time, yet she still wastes away from a treatable, preventable disease? what if they can't fix this with their limited resources? what if she has to wait too long? what if i don't make it back to see her in time?

my heart cries out, how long, o lord? and as always, may hiv end. soon.

The nearest hospital, Piggs Peak Government Hospital

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