Night one

Work went much better than I was hoping for. Maybe it's the beginning of the end for this virus or maybe it's the glorious antibiotics doing their job. Either way, I haven't felt feverish and the cough isn't as aggressive. I feel worn down and achy and tired of coughing, but the end feels like it's finally in sight. Unfortunately there are still a lot of nurses out or only beginning to get sick, but in the words of my partner last night, "it's not that I'm not compassionate, it's just that I don't want them to get me sick!" It does sort of feel that way. You know, scooting an inch or two away from somebody who is coughing... washing your hands just that much more... throwing up a small prayer on behalf of friends who are sick but also a small one thanking God it wasn't you.

But last night was better than ok- it was great. I came in with an overwhelming sense of peace despite the physical feelings of general crumminess from being sick and all that entails. My patients admittedly weren't all that strenuous, but I felt reassured that I can, in fact, do this. And not only can I do it, but I was able to have a few unhurried conversations along the way! I still wondered whether I was doing the right thing, but as the night wore on, I started feeling more convinced.

And then a four year old with attitude named Miracle woke up from her fitful sleep at four in the morning. Crying, she reached out her thin arms in the dark to be picked up. So I lifted her off the bed and swayed to the music we had softly playing at the desk. But the only music I heard for those fifteen minutes came from the little girl with a tube dangling out of her nose who was drooling and snoring loudly in the crook of my neck. What is trust? Walking into a floating hospital off the coast of Africa when you feel absolutely crummy is one thing. To then feel the trust of a child given to you is an immeasurable return. All I could think about was this little girl here for her third cleft palate surgery, limp in my Yovo arms, fast asleep.