Of course not. That would be another fault. Another black mark against her name. She’d already kept one secret from him. What would he say if he found out there were two?
He would undoubtedly question her suitability for the job.
But she wanted this. She needed this.
Even though it would inevitably break her heart.
It was time to move on.
She turned to face him and met his gaze. “I think it’s for the best. If I can get started straight away it will help build some relationships with the villagers.”
She could almost hear his brain tick, trying to decide if it was the best thing to do. “I’ll come and find you in an hour, okay?”
She nodded and smiled. “That’s fine. If there’s anyone needing immunization I can do that as I go.”
“You’re happy with the protocol for recording?”
“It seems straightforward enough. I’ll give you a yell if I run into any problems.”
He seemed to hesitate, as if he wanted to say something else, but she didn’t wait to find out. She walked to the doorway. Olabisi was already talking to some of the mothers waiting outside, forming them into two separate queues.
“Ah, Dr. Violet.” She pointed to the queue on her left. “This one is yours, all these mothers understand English. The other queue is mine. These villagers only speak Hausa. We should be able to get through more this way. Okay?”
Violet smiled. Olabisi was already looking like a professional rather than a local volunteer with rudimentary training. She could learn a lot from these people.
She turned to the first woman in the queue, who was clutching a baby in one arm and holding the hand of another small child with one limb showing clear signs of atrophy. Already they were too late. This child had already been affected by polio.
She gestured with her hand. “Please come in. I’m Dr. Violet.”
* * *
The afternoon flew past. Polio had blighted this community. Most villagers had probably never even realized they’d been affected. Ninety percent of sufferers had no symptoms.
But then there were the few poor souls—children and adults alike—where the virus had entered their central nervous system and destroyed their motor neurons, leading to muscle weakness and acute flaccid paralysis.
And with the poor sanitation in the village it was no wonder that polio was still spreading.
In the space of a few hours, Violet had delivered and recorded more than forty doses of oral polio vaccine, along with dressing wounds, listening to chests and dealing with a large number of cases of malaria and diarrhea in young children.
But then everything changed.
Then she was faced with a baby.
A really sick baby.
Even before she touched him she could tell instantly how unwell he was.
And she did the worst thing possible. She hesitated.
A horrible sense of dread was sweeping over her. If she could run outside and be sick right now she would. Her mouth felt as dry as a stick as she approached the woman clutching the tiny bundle in her arms.
The words almost stuck in the throat. How awful. How ridiculous. This was exactly why she’d come here. There was no way she could let her nerves get the better of her now.
But this was harder than she’d thought.
This was the first time she’d been in contact with a real, live sick child since her daughter had died.
Her arms trembled as she held them out. “Can I see him, please?”
The mother nodded, burst into tears and handed him over.
Violet held the little bundle in her arms. Aware of the sensations sweeping over her and trying to push them all aside. Trying to keep her “doctor head” in focus. He was seriously underweight, his skin wrinkled with no fatty tissue underneath. According to his mother, after a bout of diarrhea he hadn’t been able to eat anything in the last week. It was clear he was severely dehydrated.
Back home a child like this would be rushed into Pediatric Intensive Care, with a central line inserted and IV fluids delivered in a systematic manner to stop overload leading to organ failure. Here, Violet had none of those facilities.
She sat quietly, gently rocking the little boy backward and forward in her arms. Taking a few moments just to gather her thoughts. His eyes were too glazed to focus properly—a clear sign of his ill health.
She spoke quietly to Olabisi. “Do we have any oral rehydration salt sachets?”
Olabisi shook her head. “We go through them so quickly. The Global Children’s Support Organization supply us regularly but we’re not due another delivery for a couple of days.”
Violet nodded. This little boy didn’t have a couple of days. He might only have a few hours. She lifted her head. “Could you go and find my case please? Open it up, you’ll find some sachets near the back. Bring them to me.”
Olabisi bobbed her head and left the room quickly. The sense of dread was leaving Violet. This was a baby who needed comfort. Something else was sweeping over her now.
She felt her lips turn upward and she
did the most natural thing in the world to her. Violet started to sing. This little boy needed more than comfort. He needed all the medical care in the world. Children died every day from gastroenteritis and diarrhea, all because of a lack of clean water, sugar and salts. What a difference a little medicine could make. A few sachets could put this little boy on the road to recovery again.
Back in the U.S. some doctors would have given specific instructions to parents to make a suitable solution themselves. But it was a dangerous balance. Too much sugar or salt could upset the child’s system. And out here it was wiser to use the ready-prepared solutions.
Violet watched his dark brown eyes while she continued to sing. It would be helpful if there were some antibiotics available too. She’d need to check with Evan if they had their own supplies and could dispense them.
Olabisi gave a shout and the mother stepped outside the room. Violet already knew that Olabisi would be explaining how to use the medicine. The young woman’s knowledge and expertise were impressive.
She was left alone with the baby.
For a second it scared her. This was a really sick little baby. But she was a doctor, she should be used to sick kids.
Only right now she didn’t feel like a doctor.
Right now she felt like a mother.
A mother whose heart had been wrenched out.
Her little girl hadn’t felt like this. A little bundle of bones.
Her baby had been tiny, well formed and perfect.
Except for the fact she hadn’t been breathing.
Violet had been building herself up to this, knowing that at some point she would hold a living, breathing baby in her arms and it would bring back a whole host of bad memories.
But this was different.
And it didn’t make her feel the way she’d thought it would.
She didn’t want to weep and wail about her own loss. About the lack of rhyme or reason to her perfect daughter being stillborn.
She wanted to weep and wail for this baby. For this little boy. For the fact that a few hours of simple medicine could make the difference between life and death for him.