Overwhelmed yet?

Yesterday I was down by the river in Gasmala with my friend Deborah... just enjoying our time, smiling at the wet and dark little bodies playing and laughing in the water, admiring the green all around us and the amazing thunder heads forming across the way...

All the serenity came to an abrupt end as, along the path, we came across a lady, well into her 60’s I would guess, ‘laying’ in a very uncomfortable position, twitching, in the throes of a seizure. As I came around the rest of the bush that had her half hidden, I looked into the bewildered faces of a few children standing by watching the scene unfold. I approached her on the other side I walked up from, knelt beside her head to get a better look at her face... did I know this woman? Her face was so distorted from the seizure that I couldn’t tell, but I noticed the necklace she had on and knew... I’d definitely greeted her this morning while I was sitting with my women having coffee – she had come by to visit with my friends. I said to one of the kids I recognized, ‘Who is she?’... ‘I don’t know’ they said... ‘Go get someone’, I requested – trying to imagine how to help this women with my little Mabaan, knowing full well that there wasn’t an adult around for a good distance. (that kid never did go).

The lifeguard in me took over the situation as I was drawn back to her face... at this point she was struggling to breathe around the phlegm/spit that had accumulated in her mouth, so Deb and I turned her onto her side, into the recovery position, and I held her head while the seizure eventually came to an end. Just as her body started to lay still once again, three older teen-aged girls who’d been swimming on the other side of the river, came over to see what the commotion was about, since our crowd of observing-and-not-helping children was growing. Again I looked down at this beautiful lady but this time, her eyes were starting to see, and you could tell that the fog left over from such an expenditure of energy was starting to clear. “What’s your name” I asked her... She looked at me, but said nothing... “Awa” one of the new girls came to her rescue.

At this point these girls seemed to think the best thing for her was to ‘get up and brush it off’, so they started to pull on her arms to get her up off the ground. “No. Leave her to rest” – the last thing we needed was her stumbling, half conscious, only to fall and injure herself. I was mulling over all my thoughts and observations: how she was acting, what questions I would ask if I could... and since I couldn’t, what could I attempt to ask her... and what in the world would have happened to her if no one was around... what would have happened if she had seized while IN the river that I was sure she had been planning to cross. By God’s Grace we don’t have to know the answer to that question.

I concluded that this was not the first time this woman had experienced a seizure since, as she was ‘coming too’ she never once said anything, looked confused, or asked what happened... she seemed all too aware of what had occurred.

Once she started to look around (even though I tried my best to make the onlookers leave, only two did) at all the faces peering down at her, I asked, “Do you want to drink water?” She nodded, so we helped her sit up for a long drink from my Nalgeene bottle. Deb and I were still discussing what in the world to do for her when she decided to stand up. Eventually, it was decided that the girls, who apparently knew of her would help her get across the river with her bag of grain (which had been dropped a few feet away) without it getting ruined (the river is above neck level now that the rainy season is coming to an end). So, we helped her find her shoes that had somehow been strewn in two different directions long before we came upon her, and then they headed a little further upstream to cross.

Deb and I sad on the edge of the river bank to watch the process – there was no way I was going anywhere until I saw those feet on terra firma on the other side. If anything happened to her between our bank and the other, I was goin’ in! No need – she crossed just fine, and was the strongest swimmer out of the younger entourage escorting her. Eventually she was across, dressed again, and on her way with her grain perched on her head, as it had been originally.

I walked away from the whole thing, quite frankly, really troubled and dissatisfied. Not so much with my inability to communicate with her, as my realization that it wouldn’t have mattered. What can be done for people in a land with no resources? For people with infections, ‘simple’ illnesses, or injures enough can be done to restore them, if not prevent it from occurring again. But for someone who had struggled with something like epilepsy for years, if not their whole lives, pretty much, next to nothing can be done. The meds she would need would require so much monitoring and adjusting, the resources are lacking and rather non-existent, and it would be a logistical impossibility. The answer?... to let her walk away... and pray that she felt even a little cared for in the process.

Overwhelmed yet?