We have a friend, Keith Thomson, who likes to tell the story about the boy on a beach early one morning throwing washed up starfish back into the sea. It was an impossible task; the starfish stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions. As the story goes, an older and presumably wiser man stopped and asked what he was doing. The boy explained that he was trying to get the starfish back into the ocean before the sun came up and dried them to death. The adult gently explained that he shouldn’t worry about the starfish--there were too many to help and saving a few wouldn’t make much of a difference in the big picture. To this, the boy stooped over, picked up another starfish and gently tossing it back into the sea, he whispered, “Well, it matters to this one.”
We’ve known Keith for over 15 years. I could describe him as a British anesthetist, or a Mercy Ships board member, a generous philanthropist, or even a cancer survivor. But the way I see him is more like the small boy: Dr. Keith quietly and tirelessly picks up West African starfish, one after another, after another...
On Easter Sunday, Dr. Keith handed me a starfish.
We were on our way to join some friends from the Clinton Foundation at their Easter get-together when he asked if we could make a brief stop at JFK Hospital. As it turned out, Keith had been at the hospital a few days prior to inspect an anesthesia machine donation that he had arranged. In short, he happened to be there during a difficult pediatric case and actually stepped in and intubated a six day old, 2.3 kilo baby--thus saving her life. It had been three days and Keith wanted to stop by and make sure that little Mary was still O.K.
After checking on Mary and discussing Mary’s future with her mother, Keith noticed the patient in the bed next to hers. Eight-year-old Blessing had been admitted in February. Her story was shocking.
On her way home from school in late January, Blessing fell into a ditch and superficially cut her knee. She didn’t think to mention the small scrape to her mother and so it went unnoticed and therefore uncleaned. Seemingly out-of-the-blue, Blessing soon developed a raging infection in her leg.
February 8, 2008
Martha, her mother, could not afford to take Blessing to the hospital. She was able, however, to obtain a prescription at the local pharmacy and so she started Blessing on a week’s course of penicillin to stop the infection.
As it turned out, it was the right thing to do, but too late. The penicillin could not catch up with the by now out-of-control infection.
February 11, 2008
A few days later, while still on penicillin, something started to devour Blessing’s face. First her lips were swollen, then they turned black and finally they were simply “eaten away.”
February 24, 2008
Blessing’s frail body, compromised by infection, had been ravaged by an opportunistic disease known as “Noma,” (from the Greek verb numein, meaning to devour) here, they call it the melting disease.
Keith knew that Blessing’s best chance for reconstructive surgery would be on board the Africa Mercy. He took some photos to show to Gary and we promised Martha and Blessing that we would help.
To be continued...
Monday, May 26, 2008
March 7, 2008
Mary and her mother
