About an hour ago, Anna came running in to say her son Samson was "sick." All IO could do was to put that statement into the context of my GI complaints a week or so ago.
She went to the hospital to be with him.
Concern and curiosity got the better of me and shortly, I followed.
I walked through the narrow hallway past the dental office and into the waiting area whose benches lining the walls were full of patients. It was a busy day. Anna was at the payment window, but she pointed to a strapping 13 year-old near me. Apparently, although details are sketchy, Samson was in some type of altercation - with a chair. Not sure if other humans were involved or not. He did not say much. I have met him before, but I have no idea if he knew who I was.
I watched the repair, certainly adequate, by Dr. Mariana I think. Interestingly, she used chromic. I don't know if it was because nylon was not available or some other reason. The technique and repair were certainly satisfactory. They shaved the eyebrow, but the wound came together well, though I cringed at not having it available as a landmark. He did not cringe in the least getting the lignocaine injection.
Anna did NOT want to see the wound. She was scared, but maintained her composure as well as Samson did. Samson went to the pharmacy, but I am not sure what was prescribed. It was big, 3 cm, and deep into the subcutaneous fat, but he will do well. I may have some simple supplies that she can have for the wound.
What is the adage? "Into every life a little rain must fall." Well, it is the rainy season in Tanzania!
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