Here is a journal entry from a friend of ours who spends quite a bit of time at the Luanda TB / Aids hospital. For everyone who has lent an effort to help the people of Angola should consider this story as their own. Many of the donated items received from Utah and Austin have gone (or will go) to this hospital, and other places like it. Again, thank you to all who have donated.
Here is the story:
The Man in the Bed
On Wednesday we started our work at the TB/Aids otherwise called the Sanatorium. There were many patients that need attending to. Some are abandoned; some have families that live, very far away, and all have poverty as the common denominator in their lives. A group of us from various walks of life provide drinking water, second hand clothes, toiletries, pillows, basins, pots and a food bag to the worst of people. All of what we offer is given to us by the community we live in and their friends that support us too. We provide clean ups for the people, without families and that are too ill or old to clean themselves. This particular day there were many patients and time was running short so when I saw an elderly man in the bed with food all over his beard, I found the head nurse and asked for assistance on his behalf. Our philosophy is to try to get the responsible people be the one’s to do the work. Our voice is one of encouragement and we will assist and help whenever possible.
I was assured that he would be looked after. Part of me was not too sure about the way in which the message was delivered to me but as I had other work to do, I took off.
One hour and a half later and knowing it was time for me to leave to collect my children from school I popped back into the room to check.
It was as I feared the man has not been helped or cleaned. He was really old and really ill. It is not often one sees an old man with a shocking head of pure white hair and a beard to match, in this hospital, as the war has taken many in the previous years. As I went closer and checked him I could see he was at the end stage of his time here.
Knowing he had little time and knowing he must be suffering I was hesitant about what was the best decision. On looking under the sheets I realized he has not been cleaned for a few days and while his death was imminent and even if it hurt him I could not leave him in this present state.
I needed help so I called my friend Meghan and we started. The man in the bed eye’s never left my face as I explained to him what we were going to do. His body was in a bad way and he was covered in maggots which I found under his armpits, in his beard and was shocked to find that his lower body was a mass of moving white beasts. Cleaning him was going to take some time. This was not the issue it was the fact that he was still alive. We were not going to let the maggots get him before he had passed on.
There is a time for everything and as a fellow human being how could he go on his journey without dignity.
We worked for a long time pushing these creatures off the bed to the floor. We will never forget the sickening crunch of all the wriggling bodies as they were squashed under our shoes. We worked slowing and patiently and finally Meghan had to leave so I carried on a little longer. I know he was in great pain and knew that all the touching and moving was agony for him. Finally he was covered and clean.
As I stood there looking back into his deep brown eyes I sensed a really strong presence at the end of his bed. Something really big majestic and ever so beautiful and it was waiting patiently. I have no words to describe it. How could I?
All I could do was move very closely and look back into his eyes and whispered to him. It is time for you to go. It is time, your angels are waiting. Whatever it is that is keeping you here you have to let go. Let go. Your angels are waiting.
My work was done. I left with tears streaming down my face and put my sunglasses on so that I could hide them from the others on the ward.
Unfortunately I did meet the nurse that had told me he would be attended to. On the way out. Of course that hot headed Irish temper of mine lashed out. Needless to say luckily my good friend Ruth was near by and dragged me a way. Friends are blessings indeed.
A few days later passing by I dropped in to see. When I stood at the door I could see the empty bed and turned to walk away. Someone called me and I looked back. It was the other man in the room whom I had not noticed the week before. He thanked me for what I had done for his brother. He explained that just as I left the room the man made a noise ( which I assume to be the death rattle) and he was calling me back to pray as he thought I was a sister from the church. That made me smile. No bigger sinner on this planet!
I looked at him sat on his bed and said no. No one should thank me; this is what anyone else would have done. He then started to tell me his story. He had seen his wife shot in the war and saw his 2 children shot as they fled from one of the villages. He had lost everything and here I was lucky and privileged and he was thanking me for what I had done. I again left that room with tears and sunglasses on my face. I left there with an ache in my heart because I was getting credit for nothing. His story and him opening up to me made me realize that there were a few miracles at work in this hospital. The man with the worms is gone with the beautiful presence. The man with the lost family even though he has nothing, still has the bigness of heart and the love for a brother to appreciate a small act of kindness.
The lady who left the room was twice blessed and must every time she is there for her misdemeanors salute the head nurse with a begrudging nod which is returned with the slightest inclination of his head. We all do what we can in certain circumstances.
My family, and Grupo Da Amizidae
This is your story because your generous donation and support helped all people in this story. Thank You.
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