A Dying Man in Bocas

Their faces hung low facing the ground. The low light accenting despair on brown round faces. As the full moon danced between rain clouds showing its reflection of our world then disappearing, the smell of boiling lemongrass and smoke filled the air. The moon not able to bring light into this night for something unexpected and sad has become upon it. Just moments before, Solomon, my host father that is the same age as me, turned and looked at me to tell me the rain was coming. We were standing on the deck and as I turned to the forest behind us to see I could here the rain coming over the hills. The moon was still out as I quickly noted back to him.

It wasn't moments later that the night had turned cold and unforgiving. My mind already sour from a nasty cold that has left me feeling like my body has been filled with toxins. I can taste metal in my mouth and each cough makes it harder to breath. I came up the stairs to find Solomon and his brother holding his dad who also lives here, by the shoulders. Just moments before the old man had been walking around normally as he usually does (I distinctly remember him getting up several times last night to use the bathroom) and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Things had changed rapidly. The man had fallen and was unconscious, his diabetes taking hold of his body and not giving it back. As he started convulsing in a violent sweat filled rage, Solomon and the other visiting family members helped lower the man into the hammock.

Not understanding what exactly was transpiring I sat on the steps hoping this was part of something that could be fixed. Surely there was medicine for this. Surely they had called a doctor. Surely. Surely nothing. This is the 3^rd World. There is no doctor to call. There is no hospital here. There is only waiting. So we waited and the air grew thicker. Community leaders and family started to fill the room which only minutes ago was a room filled with laughs. As the sons and daughters of the man held him tightly bracing each violent convulsion the man gave unconscious groans. Each one sending a message that something was terribly wrong.

It was only when I noticed the tears falling from Solomon's eyes that I realized this was not good. I paced in the background searching my mind for something I could do. What could I do? Was I allowed to do anything here? We are told to stay out of certain situations that may effect our service here. Could I call someone and even if I did there is no way there is anything here that can help this man right? What if the advice was wrong and they blame his death on me? I stood for 20 minutes determined to stay out of it. I grabbed a pillow from my room to cushion the mans head and felt I had contributed. This feeling only lasted seconds though and it wasn't long before I was pacing to the wailing sounds of a dying man. Gospel music faintly playing in the background from Sunday service.

I couldn't help it. I called the Peace Corps Medical officer and asked her straight out if I could ask her a question concerning a person in my community. She said yes and I explained the situation. Lots of sugar and take him directly to the doctor immediately is what she said. I knew that if these words were to come out of my broken spanish mouth in front of all the community leaders and family that I needed to be sure this was what needed to happen. I reaffirmed what I needed to tell them and instead made the decision to have the Medical Officer tell Solomon herself just to get the message through correctly.

Solomon hung up the phone and looked at the ground while handing it back. No words were exchanged. Moments later water with sugar in it were being forced down his throat and I sat in the background hoping this would be the magic cure. It wasn't. And it wasn't meant to be. This was only a temporary solution to prolong his life but avoiding the hospital here at all costs was the goal. The people here have just enough money to eat. Nothing more and with the baby having gone to the hospital the week before due to amoebas, times were tough.

After 15 more painful minutes the decision was made and a friend from another community that had a car was called. I strapped on my headlamp, sunk into my rubber boots and grabbed a corner of the hammock. Even with 5 of us carrying the man the task still became hard. Sliding down the muddy hill and falling in the river was not an option at this time. I kept my footing and as the man continued to groan we carried him down the hill and out of the forest into the road. We waited faces down, quite as stones in the dark while more people trickled in forming a circle around us in the road. For what seemed like an eternity passed before the car showed up and after we lowered the mans body into the car it sped off with the two brothers.

I would find out via phone call from Solomon that we had saved his life. His blood sugar level was too low and the sugar we gave him helped. He is not out of the woods so to speak but it looks as if he will make it. They are still in the hospital.

I asked the house mother if there is a shot or medicine that we could keep around to give to him if this ever happened again. She said probably yes, but that there was no money for this. Even living in sub standard housing with little food, and no amenities I sometimes forget that these people really do have nothing. I was quickly reminded...