For two semesters now I have entered a hospital on a weekly basis. This week I have stepped into a hospital but a completely different hospital. It is hot for one thing, there is only one room in the medical ward for eleven people, and the patients have been through so much to get there. The patient that stands out in my mind and probably always will, is an 18 year old boy (who looked about 12) that was laying restlessly in the corner of the medical ward (bed #6 I believe).His mother was at his side and she looked like she was suffering as much as he was. I was told that the boy was experiencing conjestive heart failure and that his mitral valve was no longer able to open. His lungs were filling with fluid and he was slowly suffocating at 18. In addition to having TB I was also told that even an operation at this point would not save his life….
I tried to listen to his heart with my stethescope but all that I was really able to hear was his voice moaning. My eyes filled with tears as I listened knowing that he probably would not see his 19th birthday. There wasn’t anything that I could do but think. I wondered if I would even be alive if I had been born in a providence of Cambodia. Conjestive heart failure at 18. I know that I will never forget his face, or his mother’s face but what I really hope that I never forget is just how lucky I am. I will never know the rest of his story but I know that my story will be different because of this different day at the hospital.