Do you ever have those moments where you think: “I should have…”
I do. I try not to live in them. Living in “should have’s” gets us nowhere. But I acknowledge them as they come.
Today I walk into Violets boma. Her mother was in an accident. Her inner thigh is badly cut. They want me to check the wound to see if it needs further attention. There are two wounds, each six inches long. She visited a local hospital. They used thick cord to put four stitches into each of the gigantic cuts. Puss filled, white, infected and still oozing blood days later; she needs medical attention.
The mother has been caring for Violets baby and a neighbor’s toddler, no older than two while Violet is at school. The toddler waddles up to me in the room. She has been crying since I arrived, snot running down her nose and mouth. I notice her more closely for the first time now. Her shirt is covered in vomit, her pants are soaked through with diarrhea. I want to pick her up and comfort her, I want to curse our world for letting her live like this. I don’t know what to do, besides wait until a clinic is open tomorrow.
And I think…I should have become a doctor.
I wish that willingness could make the difference, could offer something that I am not able to give.
Instead I come home and begin reading a manual on how to deliver a baby. And what to do when there are no doctors.
Maybe willingness is what we make of it.
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