Over the last three days, we have seen many surgeries ranging from minor to life-threatening. On our first day in the hospital, we met a 15 month old boy who had fallen into a fire of hot coals. Unable to get himself out, he lay burning as his intoxicated parents neglected to notice. His palms are destroyed by deep third degree burns exposing the muscles, and his hands may have to be amputated. Second and third degree burns cover his body and the right half of his face. We are scheduled to participate in skin graft surgery tomorrow in an attempt to recover the skin on his face, eyelid and ear.
On the other side of the operating room door, there are two of our favorite children. Natalia and Evo are about the same age and equally bossy. They have become as much of a part of the burn center as the nurses and doctors. Both came in malnourished and frail. Now, they are plump, full of spirit and always looking for a hand to hold. They make us forget about the suffering that fills each room until we hear the whimpering and crying of a new patient who has just come out of surgery calling for his mother. The children are left with only white coats to attempt to comfort them. Parents are no where to be found due to the strict visitation rules and the inability to afford the stay in the city while their child is undergoing treatment.
Within the first week at the hospital, we have already noticed "luxury" items that the children desperately need since they share the same few toys and are confined to their beds for most of the day. Next week, we will head to the Concha, or market, to shop for items that will put smiles on these sad faces.
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