April 23, 2010
A couple of days ago I entered in the labor and delivery room, I heard a very extraordinary weeping. It sounded different then the normal labor and delivery pain. I followed the sound and finally I found a young girl, sitting on an examination table besides the fetal monitor. She was holding herself; her arms were crossed across her stomach as she rocked back and forth, back and forth. She was weeping and repeated “It hurts and hurts and hurts” over and over!
I took and squeezed her hand.
“What happened to you?” I asked her and I felt her pain. I then asked her for her name and what happened to her. Weeping she told me, that her baby died, she had, had a C-section. How old are you, I asked she replied “thirteen.” She answered me, and through her tears said, “it hurts, it hurts”. She continued to rock back and forth.
I held her in my arms, then she started crying, and moaning again and asked, “who are you?” I told her my name and explained to her, that I work here at the hospital. She sunk back into my arms and I felt her extraordinary pain of losing her child and a deeper unspoken pain.
“Did someone hurt you?” She stopped a moment, and started crying again.
“He took me with force, my uncle!” She got out of my arms and started to rock back and forth again. “What happened?” I asked her very softly. She explained her story to me and then started weeping again.
“I would like someone here to give me a gift. All the other girls always get dolls. I am the only one who didn’t get anything.” She moaned “It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.”
She rocked back and forth again. Softly I held her in my arms again. “I am so sorry.” She started crying, she held on to me. “I only wanted to have a doll once in my life.” She looked at me “Couldn’t you give me a gift?”
“I don’t have a doll here, but maybe, when I go home I find something for you.”
With the permission of the doctor I informed the social worker. I felt that this girl needs any support available to her.
Suddenly the girl, I have forgotten her name now. She started coughing hard, I went to get trash can for her, and she started coughing blood.
As the social worker arrived, she found out, that the girl has been waiting for several hours. She had been waiting for someone to bring her to the emergency room. She had a lung infection. About one month before she had, had a C-section in the hospital in San Pedro Sula, which is three hours away from La Ceiba. The baby died a few dies afterwards. Today she arrived in the examination room in the maternity area at the hospital in La Ceiba, she had been experiencing pain in her abdomen. It was discovered she had a lung infection she should have been transferred to the emergency room immediately.
All the nurses were occupied at the time, finally a doctor and myself brought her in a wheelchair to the crowded emergency room. The doctor left and I hugged her again, I squeezed her hand. I left the emergency room and went to the office of the social worker. I found the social worker in a conversation with the girl’s aunt. The social worker stated “In the future this should never happen again. What are you going to do about it?”
The girl’s aunt replied “No, no. This will never happen, she has already had her tubes tied and can no longer have children.”
This statement took my breath away, at that moment I didn’t know what to think or say. Now as I am writing this I start crying.
Then I saw on the social workers desk a hair clip with a big flower on it. I looked at the hair clip and then I looked to the social worker. The social worker looked at me and then to the hair clip.
I said to the social worker “she wish’s so badly for a gift.” The social worker replied “yes, take it.” I took the hair clip, and returned to the emergency room, where the girl was still waiting on her treatment.
I said to the girl “unfortunately I don’t have a doll here, but this is for you.” I placed the hair clip in her hand, she looked at the hair clip and closed her hand around it, holding onto it. She looked at me with a smile in her eyes, “thank you” she said, I hugged her for the last time.
A couple of days later I learned that she had died.