Posts tagged life

Supposed to be on my 4 th year at University right now, most of my friends are going to be graduates this year and I’m not even close to that. Guess everything happens for a reason, but for this I don’t see any reason why it have to be so damn hard. But again I guess it’s those lessons that ‘life is not easy’ but really does it have to be this hard?? Mmhhh. Maybe it will be a happy new year, the day they say I’m actually cured from XDR (be it in June/July) for me that would be a HAPPY NEW YEAR.
22-year-old Phumeza is in her forth year of treatment for tuberculosis and is finding it tough. Please leave your questions, comments and messages of support for Phumeza in the comments box below her blog post. 
Accepting this would, for me at least, be paramount to giving up hope – laying down and accepting that these tiny little humans are not entitled to a life. MSF reject this. Where there is no hope, they create it. Sometimes it is not cheap to do, and just occasionally the main result is the creation of hope rather than its fulfilment. What value you give to hope itself… well, I suppose that is subjective. I don’t know what our hypothetical shopkeeper would charge for it, even in festival season. The more I see, the more I believe it is priceless.
Luke Chapman, MSF doctor treating malnutrition in Bihar, India, on the value of hope. Please leave your comments and questions for Luke below his blog post.
Photo: The grounds the MSF hospital in Kunduz, Afghanistan, seen at dusk. Afghanistan 2012 © Michael Goldfarb
Letter from North Afghanistan: “This Is Life and Death Under a Magnifying Glass”
Nurse Brett Adamson recently completed a six-month mission in Kunduz,Afghanistan, where Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) runs a hospital providing emergency surgery to people with life-threatening injuries. Below is some of what he wrote while he was there:
Today we watched a child die. We had done all that we could, but there are always limits. He was hit by a speeding motorcycle, cracking his skull.
The child was hooked up to a ventilation machine. We have four in our intensive care unit and they have saved many lives—of people hurt in bomb blasts, wounded by gun shots, or with head traumas. We kept the child alive to see if he might recover—buying time for healing, for the family to pray, for us to hope. Unfortunately he didn’t make it, but thankfully the majority do.
This child was hit by a speeding motorcycle. His family is present when I turn off the ventilator and pull the tube from his lips to see if he can breathe on his own. We have talked with them many times about his extremely poor chances of survival. If a child stops breathing, we know the bleeding or swelling inside the head has progressed to the point that almost all brain function has been lost.
The boy cannot keep breathing on his own. His bed is surrounded by people—his family, two doctors, a nurse, the nurse from the morning shift who has stayed on—all eager to do anything possible for the dying child. The child is gasping for breath, so we relieve his distress with drugs; a push on a syringe eases his suffering. Family members hold his hand, a nurse washes his face.
This is life and death under a magnifying glass. The boy gasps occasionally and again we settle him, his heart rate nearly stopping between each gasp. Family members ritually trickle a tiny amount of water into his lips. We suction his mouth and we comfort the family. Eventually he slips away.
We wash him, dress him, tie his jaw closed and his toes together, and wrap him in a clean sheet. A brother sheds tears.
The family wants to take him now. The father thanks us for our efforts, wraps his child in a blanket and carries him outside to an old station wagon borrowed from a friend. I hold his child for him as he climbs into the back. I pass him the child and he cradles him and they drive away to their home in the mountains.
We clean the bed, clean the equipment and attend to the other patients. Then we make up the bed with fresh sheets, and within a couple of hours it is filled with someone new. 

Photo: The grounds the MSF hospital in Kunduz, Afghanistan, seen at dusk. Afghanistan 2012 © Michael Goldfarb

Letter from North Afghanistan: “This Is Life and Death Under a Magnifying Glass”

Nurse Brett Adamson recently completed a six-month mission in Kunduz,Afghanistan, where Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) runs a hospital providing emergency surgery to people with life-threatening injuries. Below is some of what he wrote while he was there:


Today we watched a child die. We had done all that we could, but there are always limits. He was hit by a speeding motorcycle, cracking his skull.

The child was hooked up to a ventilation machine. We have four in our intensive care unit and they have saved many lives—of people hurt in bomb blasts, wounded by gun shots, or with head traumas. We kept the child alive to see if he might recover—buying time for healing, for the family to pray, for us to hope. Unfortunately he didn’t make it, but thankfully the majority do.

This child was hit by a speeding motorcycle. His family is present when I turn off the ventilator and pull the tube from his lips to see if he can breathe on his own. We have talked with them many times about his extremely poor chances of survival. If a child stops breathing, we know the bleeding or swelling inside the head has progressed to the point that almost all brain function has been lost.

The boy cannot keep breathing on his own. His bed is surrounded by people—his family, two doctors, a nurse, the nurse from the morning shift who has stayed on—all eager to do anything possible for the dying child. The child is gasping for breath, so we relieve his distress with drugs; a push on a syringe eases his suffering. Family members hold his hand, a nurse washes his face.

This is life and death under a magnifying glass. The boy gasps occasionally and again we settle him, his heart rate nearly stopping between each gasp. Family members ritually trickle a tiny amount of water into his lips. We suction his mouth and we comfort the family. Eventually he slips away.

We wash him, dress him, tie his jaw closed and his toes together, and wrap him in a clean sheet. A brother sheds tears.

The family wants to take him now. The father thanks us for our efforts, wraps his child in a blanket and carries him outside to an old station wagon borrowed from a friend. I hold his child for him as he climbs into the back. I pass him the child and he cradles him and they drive away to their home in the mountains.

We clean the bed, clean the equipment and attend to the other patients. Then we make up the bed with fresh sheets, and within a couple of hours it is filled with someone new. 

Photo: Two-year-old Fadilla before and after receiving treatment for severe malnutrition and tuberculosis. 
When Fadilla’s grandmother brought her to the Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) hospital in Am Timan, Chad, she wasn’t just malnourished – she was sick and in danger of dying.
At just 13 pounds, Fadilla weighed only about half of what a two-year-old child should. At the hospital, our teams diagnosed her with severe acute malnutrition and tuberculosis – two life-threatening medical conditions.
Malnutrition is a serious medical condition, and recovery only gets more difficult when illnesses like malaria or tuberculosis are also present. But with quality medical treatment, even children as sick as Fadilla can make a full recovery. It’s possible thanks to innovations like 33-cent packets of milk-based ready-to-use therapeutic food that are so simple to administer – most malnourished children can be treated by their parents or caregivers at home.
Fadilla’s tuberculosis meant she had to stay in the hospital, but after months of intensive treatment, the brightness returned to Fadilla’s eyes and she reached her target weight. “Look at Fadilla now!” her grandmother exclaimed to the hospital staff. “She is doing so much better!”
Thanks to the support of our donors, we treated 408,000 malnourished children last year. Our medical teams are able to travel to some of the most remote, dangerous, and neglected parts of the world to identify and treat children, like Fadilla, suffering from malnutrition.
There’s hope for even the most severely malnourished child. If we can reach them in time, treatments like therapeutic foods can help children who might not otherwise survive.
Donate to help Doctors Without Borders save the lives of malnourished children and bring quality medical care to people in nearly 70 countries around the world.

Photo: Two-year-old Fadilla before and after receiving treatment for severe malnutrition and tuberculosis. 

When Fadilla’s grandmother brought her to the Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) hospital in Am Timan, Chad, she wasn’t just malnourished – she was sick and in danger of dying.

At just 13 pounds, Fadilla weighed only about half of what a two-year-old child should. At the hospital, our teams diagnosed her with severe acute malnutrition and tuberculosis – two life-threatening medical conditions.

Malnutrition is a serious medical condition, and recovery only gets more difficult when illnesses like malaria or tuberculosis are also present. But with quality medical treatment, even children as sick as Fadilla can make a full recovery. It’s possible thanks to innovations like 33-cent packets of milk-based ready-to-use therapeutic food that are so simple to administer – most malnourished children can be treated by their parents or caregivers at home.

Fadilla’s tuberculosis meant she had to stay in the hospital, but after months of intensive treatment, the brightness returned to Fadilla’s eyes and she reached her target weight. “Look at Fadilla now!” her grandmother exclaimed to the hospital staff. “She is doing so much better!”

Thanks to the support of our donors, we treated 408,000 malnourished children last year. Our medical teams are able to travel to some of the most remote, dangerous, and neglected parts of the world to identify and treat children, like Fadilla, suffering from malnutrition.

There’s hope for even the most severely malnourished child. If we can reach them in time, treatments like therapeutic foods can help children who might not otherwise survive.

Donate to help Doctors Without Borders save the lives of malnourished children and bring quality medical care to people in nearly 70 countries around the world.