With Two Kids and a Smile

Her big black eyes stared straight up at me, smiling—the one thing she wouldn’t let anyone take away from her. The gratitude in those eyes pierced me with that smile, making me uncomfortable. I kept thinking to myself, “She should be angry at how her life turned out, angry at God, angry at man, angry at something.” But there was no anger at all in her stare. Just peace.

She had come to the clinic for a sore on her foot. With a small baby boy and young daughter in tow, she hiked all the way up the mountain to the clinic. She had almost no hope. She went through the process of getting her vitals taken, waiting with 75 other sick people for her turn to see a nurse or a doctor, and then finally being admitted to the children’s malnutrition ward—no room left in the main ward.

Now, after the long day, I had gone with Brad, one of the volunteer nurses, in to check on this woman and clean her wounds. She had waited patiently all day, carefully tending to her baby’s and daughter’s needs. She did so with so much organization and care you’d think she was at home. Maybe for her, she was.

For reasons unknown to me, this relatively young mother’s husband had left her and her children to fend for themselves. Now, she was left with nothing.

Sadly, this woman had more than just a foot wound to tend to. She was also in the final stages of breast cancer. Where once lie a source of nourishment for her children, now lie tough piece of resembling the texture of an orange peel, with an hollowed-out wound the size of a baseball. Her baby boy only had one breast to drink from.

In this country ravaged by civil war and lack of health infrastructure, there were no health professionals advising her to do a monthly breast exam, no uncomfortable mammogram to test for any lumps, and now no chemotherapy to treat this awful disease. All we could do was treat the flesh wound and make her as comfortable as possible. Literally a band-aid solution for a much deeper wound.

In America, we have so many opportunities for prevention and treatment of so many things. It seems there’s always a commercial for a new drug for a new malady—restless legs syndrome, for example—sometimes I think we make up sicknesses just to have something else to talk about, or for drug companies to make some more dollars.

Healthcare in America has become a hot topic in the last couple of years. We still have so far to go in advancing healthcare and curing diseases in this country and all over the world. And there are many valid concerns that have been raised by people on all sides of the issue. Regardless of how one feels, it does seem in this highly politicized discussion that we as a society have gotten a little carried away with how we think of ourselves. I’ve even heard some Americans argue in this debate that healthcare is a privilege, not a right. I don’t think any of those saying that have ever been in this woman’s position. If they had, they might have a different perspective.


We need to constantly be trying to advance healthcare in our country and improve it, but we also need to be thankful for how much we already have. If anyone had asked this woman how she felt about what the cost of healthcare should be, she’d probably say it was worth a two day hike up a mountain with a hurt foot. With all the problems and issues and opinions we have, I cannot help but be in awe at how wonderful it is to know that we have come so far in healthcare in our country in the last 100 years.

Just 60 years ago, for example, most premature babies died in our country for lack of treatment. That is almost unheard of today in our country. And while there are still places in the world that haven’t been as fortunate as we have to have access to so much technology and knowledge, I know they one day will. If corrupt and greedy politics got out of the way in so much of the world and let justice into people’s lives, many more people would have access to what we do in America.

I stood there holding the gauze and ointment for Brad as he helped to bring dignity and comfort to this woman, listening to the constant hum of crickets in the background and the cries of the few babies who had not yet fallen asleep. As I watched Brad do his magic, I was almost overcome with pity for this woman. But with her bright eyes and grateful spirit, she wouldn’t let me pity her. She would let me help her, but not pity her. What would my pity do, and who am I to think she needs my pity? Funny how those who deserve pity don’t actually want it. I’m not sure what it is about people who have been through great suffering, but they always make me feel like everything will be ok.

I, like so many of you, have been personally affected by breast cancer. I am so thankful that for those that I love who have had, or are still battling, this terrible pink ribbon disease, there has been treatment to comfort and often heal them. And I’m even more thankful they didn’t have to hike up a mountain in the rainy season to get a band-aid.

My hope is that one day, when this woman’s soon-to-be orphaned daughter grows up, she will have the privilege of complaining about having to go get another uncomfortable mammogram.