An unfortunate conclusion

Tomorrow me and my two American roommates are heading out on a baby safari to Nyonie, on the Atlantic coast. It is savannah land and we hope to see elephants. Since we have to up early to pack and head out, I will make tonight's blog quick. Plus, I am still digesting what happened so maybe I will write more once I have thought about it more. Basically the tetanus kid died abruptly and peacefully yesterday evening. He had a cardiac arrest and could not be revived. His mother and father were wailing and the whole pediatric ward emptied to pay their respects to the family and to the body. The mother walked through the whole hospital compound singing/wailing a mourning song. It was incredibly sad and yet weirdly calm inside of me. Some of the other deaths have roiled me, I have felt sweaty, or the urge to vomit, or cry. But this time I felt oddly and perhaps incongruently calm and quiet. Maybe I was kidding myself thinking that he might make it through. Perhaps I had to believe it so that when I would see him and his parents in the morning, I could credibly convey those hopes to them. I asked one of the staff doctors here whether he has seen a child pull through tetanus. One of approximately ten in 2 years he said. Those are bad odds. Online it says that mortality ranges from 25-60% and that is for places with ICU support. Our small hospital in equitorial Africa does not offer anywhere near that level of monitoring, support, or intervention. I could not help but hope for him though.