Silence
Some silence is good, like a night without a pounding at the door by the maternity nurse announcing a lady in labor in distress. Or the silence of a young man now calmed down with pain meds and suturing after being bitten by a horse or gored by a bull. But some silence is bad, like a floppy blue baby delivered after an excessively prolonged labor. Or the silence of the generator after the diesel delivery man decided to not bring us a refill. I have been somewhat silent for the first two months of my service here at Bere Adventist Hospital in Chad, central Africa. The silence is not for lack of material to write about, but more because of soul fatigue. The frequent unnecessary deaths burden my heart. My mind is often overwhelmed with trying to communicate in French and figuring out what to do for patients without many diagnostics or options for treatment. I often feel like there is so little I can do for patients here. We can try to cut something out that doesn’t belong and try era