As the operating room becomes more and more efficient, patients start to be moved rapidly through their procedures and faces blur. Stories are very similar: many children to care for, abandonment by their husbands, little food, unsanitary conditions, a desperate pleading to help them become more physically functional. One by one they come through and I feel myself becoming less shocked by it all. Even the stench of dead bodily tissue is not as bothersome as when I first arrived. But what is concerning me at this point is how we take for granted each day back home. I hear the surgeons talk about the petty complaints from their stateside patients, and I cant shake the sickness I feel in my gut.
Is it really fair that we have so much, and they have so little here?
We discuss our plans to return. It is the only way we can face the possibility of leaving so soon.
