It was my second trip to Mukeu, Kenya. Dr. Paul and I had just finished our day in the dispensary, and were heading off to watch our boys share their testimonies and autobiographies at the local primary school. “Dr. Paul, Dr. Rick, a woman was just brought in by her family, and she is sick, could you please see her,” asked one of the nurses. “You go ahead Paul, I’ll be right there.” Most of what we saw in the dispensary was chronic health problems, with the occasional acute illness thrown in. I wasn’t prepared for my next patient encounter that has left me troubled 1 1/2 years since.
A very thin woman in her late twenties was lying on the examining table restless and anxious. The only history I could get was that she had vaginal bleeding for the last several days. Her heart was rapid and her blood pressure was so low it was difficult to obtain.
We moved her into the Labor and Delivery room – the only room with enough space to care for a sick patient. I directed the nurses to get an IV catheter placed, so we could give her fluids. After several attempts, they were unsuccessful. “Please get me an IV, and I’ll give it a go.” They handed me the same IV they had been using – a very short, small IV, not typically used for pushing IV fluids rapidly. This was the only IV catheter in the whole dispensary! The tip was already bent by multiple attempts. I tried unsuccessfully to insert the IV with the stubby and misshapen needle into one of the woman’s collapsed and hidden veins.
Suddenly the woman sat up, shrieked and promptly collapsed limp and unresponsive. She began to take hauntingly slow, deep breathes – an ominous sign indicating her brain had suffered a fatal injury – likely from lack of blood flow to her head. I looked at her pupils. They wouldn’t respond to light. I knew at this point we had failed to help this woman. I watched as the dispensary staff continued to try in vain to insert that one pathetic IV into the woman. Her heart rate slowed. I didn’t have the heart at first to tell the staff it was too late. Within minutes she was gone.
When I go to Mukeu, I like to think I make some difference in the lives of those we see at the dispensary. Indeed we do help some, and we’re a blessing to the staff, who work there 24/7 with little physician support. But I also know that our short stints do little to impact the physical and spiritual health of the community as a whole. The tragic, unnecessary death of that young Kenyan woman reminds me the people of Mukeu and the surrounding communities need more than occasional visits from physicians like myself. They need training. They need basic supplies. With some very basic items – a few larger IV catheters, an adequate supply of IV fluids, and some practice placing IV’s in a patient with shock, this woman likely would have lived.
CWI is striving to make a difference in the people’s lives in Mukeu and beyond through the dispensary. A dental clinic has been built and is serving the community. The dispensary provides rudimentary primary care, prenatal care and birthing care to the people. But there is much to be done. The dispensary needs consistent, well-trained local staff. An educational debt forgiveness program for physicians, nurses and medical technicians would encourage local health care providers to remain on staff at the dispensary. There is a desperate need for high quality maternal-child care. There are plans to develop a local maternity care center. Basic supplies and training are needed for the staff, who currently provide care without a physician on a regular basis. There is much good to be done. It is my prayer that like-minded Christians will rise up to support the work of CWI at the dispensary so that the physical and spiritual health of the Mukeu community may be promoted, and our Lord glorified by the work. For when we tend to the sick and physically needy, we are visiting Christ, Himself.
If you can help, please contact us.
By Dr. Rick Sams
