Me, Jack Nicholson, and Zambia

             

  My time with CURE in Zambia has come and gone. Trying to understand what I experienced there has been a frustrating process for me. I am glad I went and if I was given the opportunity to have similar experiences again, I would do so. But the questions have been coming from others and from myself.

What did you see? How do you feel? What did you learn? What did you do?

They seem simple enough questions, yet I can't seem to answer them with any ease. Nevertheless, I feel some obligation to tell the story as best I can. 

One morning, I spent time seeing patients in clinic. This is where new patients are seen, and patients who have already received treatment come for follow-up visits. Families bring their kids here from great distances, at great risk and expense. In many ways, it's a parade of equal parts hope and sadness.  One mom in particular needed to commit to several weeks in the hospital...right on the spot....in order to be available for the multiple procedures her son needed.

All I saw were problems. Her child needed several surgeries. She was far from home. She was alone. She likely had little to her name besides what I could see with her in that office. 

She nodded and affirmed that she was prepared for the commitment, and would drastically alter her life starting right now for the foreseeable future. 

I get paid to be in hospitals, and I run home at the end of the day. She was deciding to LIVE in one until further notice. I was stunned at her resolve. I was humiliated by her confidence. I asked her..."Are you happy?" She smiled and said yes, and I took this photo.
                                                                       

 When she left the office the doc saw I was having a hard time maintaining my composure. He put the next patient on hold and closed the door to talk with me. He asked me how I felt and why I was moved by this seemingly ordinary (at least in this environment) patient. I'm not sure how it came to be that he told me the story I am about to tell you. Perhaps it was to give me added perspective on the lives of his patients. 

On a previous occasion, another mom came to see him. Her child also needed care that would take place at the hospital over the course of many weeks. That mom also agreed to drastically alter her life at a moment's notice for the good of her child. Sometime during her stay at the hospital she took a trip back home to check on the well being of her other five young children. When she arrived back at the village, her children were gone. Gone. No explanation.  No chance of locating them. No way to tell when, why, or how they had disappeared. 

The doctor barely got through the story without crying himself. In some twisted way, I found relief in seeing him struggle. 

Something simple and stark occurred to me right then and there. These docs and staff members have either the best job in the world, or the worst. They are able to bring hope to people who would not otherwise have it. They do so with no strings attached. They do so with no ulterior motives. However, they do so while living through stories where children go missing in the process. A reality, I was told, that is far from uncommon.

I thought I would find a new way of living in Zambia. A new paradigm and understanding for life that my family could live by. All I found were more questions. More questions than answers. A reality...a truth...I'm having a hard time handling.

One thing is certain. The answers won't be found in any surgery, or any prescription pad.