III.II.IV – Difference
III.II.IV
DIFFERENCE
Keep in mind that the universe loves to prove me wrong. Much to my surprise and as busy as we were, we still had plenty of time to roam about and discover the city. And when we were done with orientation, it was finally time for us to roll our sleeves and start our volunteering. After being introduced to the doctors who’d be overseeing our work, we were taken to a primary school where we’d be performing general examinations on kids.
Yep, that’s right – KIDS! Back then, we had barely examined any adults, let alone kids. Back then, we hadn’t even had our paediatric rotations so we knew next to nothing about them. Back then, kids were the untouchables. You see, it’s not just that they’re tiny, magical humans who are also way more vulnerable and way more sensitive than grown-ups. There’s also something else. They also come with parents. And you know what the problem with parents is? They’re like friggin lions; protective, fierce, wild. They roar and claw and bite, and sometimes, they kill.
And you can’t blame them. Most of them aren’t doctors. Most of them aren’t equipped to deal with their children’s illnesses because they’ve majored in literature or accounts or economics or mathematics. They do whatever they can but at one point they have to take a step back and let someone else take care of the most important thing in their lives. And not all of them are particularly graceful about this – some project their helplessness onto the doctors, some have unrealistic expectations, some expect a diagnosis on the spot, and some expect the treatment to work right away. Add to all this a thousand and one protocols that must be observed, and I was practically crapping my pants as we waited for them to come into the shabby, run-down classroom.
In they came; the first batch of the dreaded tiny humans. Only there were no lions hovering over their shoulders, just their teachers who gave us a nod and a smile of sympathy as they set them loose on us. Those fears? All those anxieties and worries? All of those drowned in a sea of smiles and blissful screaming, a cloud of happiness that enveloped us as soon as they entered the room.
The first was this four-year-old boy who was brought in by one of the teachers, his arms clutching at her sides until she sat him down across from me. He was wearing an over-sized Brazil soccer uniform, all messy and dishevelled, eyes as big as a Furby’s, staring at me with an open mouth, curious and attentive. I tried the usual ‘Namaste‘ but he kept on looking at me intently, as if waiting for me to make a move. I tried to go in with a fist bump but he remained as still as a deer, waiting for the slightest move to scare it off. Then in walked his older brother, perhaps a year or two older than he was. He greeted me with a respectful nod and then mumbled something in Nepalese into his sibling’s ear, who suddenly seemed to have magically warmed up to me. The rest of my examination was a breeze as he followed my lead without any hesitation.
While most of the kids knew little to no English, we had no trouble getting them to submit to our will. We’d sit them down, pique their interest with a high five or a fist bump and then do our thing – and that thing was simple enough. We’d weigh them and measure their heights, check their vitals and then perform a quick check-up from head to toe. From lice to caries, from bumps to bruises and from fever to the sniffles, we’d report any abnormal finding to our supervisor and then they’d take it from there. Simple.
So simple even a monkey could do it… So why did the teachers and the kids themselves look at us as if we were gods? Was it because they revered monkeys over there? Was that it? Or were they just that hospitable perhaps?
As a medical student I had gotten used to being treated like furniture, always there but never noticed. And suddenly we were the highlight of the show. The real reason became apparent soon enough, as one of the teachers sat down next to us. With this forlorn, soulful look in her eyes, she told us that were it not for voluntary workers, these kids would probably never even afford to go to a doctor and get a simple routine check up. That some would end up living with severe impairments for the rest of their lives or even dying because of completely preventable causes. That they were counting themselves lucky that a bunch of measly med students were there to lend a hand. Through it all, she smiled. This was every day life to her. To them. The things we take for granted, the bare necessities? They had learned how to cope without them.
The overbearing parents, all the protocols, the reservations I had… None of that had any place over there. Some of these kids considered themselves lucky if they got to be examined. That’s it. That’s just about as much as they could have ever hoped for. And that’s when it hit me. Us idiots? Us Mother Theresa wannabes? Us ineffectual, helpless beings? Maybe we were making a difference after all. Maybe not on the grand scheme of things. But to that one kid, their family and their community; that makes all the difference. That’s when I realised we can’t change the world. Not in one fell swoop at least.
Maybe, just maybe, we might be able to cause big changes through a ripple effect, by influencing others with our behaviour. And, if that’s not the case, we gotta be able to live with ourselves knowing we made a difference on a smaller scale. And maybe that can be enough. Because that kid whose lice we removed? Maybe he’s not going nuts from all the itching and scratching today. That kid with the tooth cavity? Maybe it was caught just in time for it to be saved and now she takes better care of her pearly whites . The other kid with the fever? Maybe she’s not in the little white coffin she could have ended up in were she not observed or treated.
And that’s exactly why I don’t take stuff like this for granted anymore. Those half-measures, those temporary fixes, the tape and the glue? All the awareness, charity and volunteering? All those matter. They do. Now I think they’re just as important as the actions of anyone who’s on the front-line of these battles.