There are some nights that you never forget.
Ever.
This was one of them. We were walking down the dark dirt street illuminated by temperamental street lamps, the ocean brushing with the sand rhythmically to our right. Only five or so minutes from the base it definitely was not bush bush, incomparable to the adventures of the previous nights, in fact we were on a break. Every member of our team was a white westerner, not that it matters except to prove that very point, it doesn't matter, miracles happen with white people too, not just in Africa. The evening in its dusky glow was warm to the the touch with a cool breath of breeze on our faces. Perfect. Truly a perfect, star studded african night. We were a motley crew of visitors to the site for various reasons. Two leaders of another base, myself and my mother, three girls that we met in Pemba from all over the world and a 13 year old boy named Gary and his mothers friend who had brought him.
So anyways…
We got to the restaurant and sat at the back left at a wooden table with our backs to the incredible beach, the sounds of the ocean in our ears. The perfect night. I don't even remember what I ordered, tell the truth, but I know this much. Gary ordered the fish. Not that this was a new thing, he had had fish many times before being from Alaska and all so the following events don't make much sense. But I know what happened.
I was a recently qualified nurse. As a result, every cell of my brain was still ringing with the "warning signs" and "things to watch for" that had been brainwashed into us during training. I was two months into my acute nursing job on a break to do a missions trip. Every nurse in the world knows an anaphylactic shock when they see one. The tongue starts to swell, the throat also, closing up and then the lungs and all airways swell closed. Caused by a million different things but all causing one reaction - a fatal one. The only difference is the amount of grace time you have to do one of two things. 1) Get them to take a lot of antihistamine and hope it works quick enough (usually a rubbish plan) 2) Stab an adrenalin filled epi pen into their leg to reduce the swelling instantly. Without either of these options? 100% fatality rate. Every time.
So when my friend leant over and asked "do you have any antihistamine?" and i looked up, everything in me screamed and froze at the same time. Diagonally across from me, Gary was not only demonstrating a severe fish allergy, but it was happening at an alarming rate. Tongue swelling up we could already hear his windpipe closing. Rasping terrified breaths coming from his throat. I did the math, this was rapid onset, he had about 3 mins. The base was five mins away, I have no epi pen, he is already too swollen to swallow any pills.
This boy was going to die.
Right then, right there at the idyllic beach side restaurant, on a missions trip and yet not even in the machete wielding bush bush. By all accounts afterwards, none of them heard my instantaneous inner monologue but could read it as my face drained of all conceivable color as I realised what I was looking at. Years of nurse training for every eventuality had led me to this moment. There was nothing I could do. Nothing.
"Pray!" My friend yelled and we all started praying in tongues furiously and loudly, caring not about whether the waiters of another faith would be bothered or not. At the top of our lungs we commanded this thing to reverse, Gary now terrified unable to gasp a single lungful of air, me watching every scenario we had played out at nurse school panning out in front of me. This was not how it was meant to go. I was meant to be able to do something. This boy was not meant to die.
And then.
Gary sucked in a huge lungful of air and then another, sucking at the air like a fish out of water. He stuck his tongue out and infront of our eyes the swelling reduced and then went to nothing. The three minute mark had been reached. 'Three minutes and he will be dead'. Three minutes and…sitting infront of us was a perfectly normal, healthy, breathing 13yr old, looking slightly stunned but alive none the less. "I don't think I am going to have the rest of the fish" he chuckled sheepishly before leaving the table to wash his face. My friend turned to me. Until that moment I hadn't realised how frozen I had been "how bad was that?" I shook my adrenalin filled head "he should have been dead…he should have been dead…"
Three years of nursing had taught me one thing.
God's world is a gloriously upside down one.
Ever.
This was one of them. We were walking down the dark dirt street illuminated by temperamental street lamps, the ocean brushing with the sand rhythmically to our right. Only five or so minutes from the base it definitely was not bush bush, incomparable to the adventures of the previous nights, in fact we were on a break. Every member of our team was a white westerner, not that it matters except to prove that very point, it doesn't matter, miracles happen with white people too, not just in Africa. The evening in its dusky glow was warm to the the touch with a cool breath of breeze on our faces. Perfect. Truly a perfect, star studded african night. We were a motley crew of visitors to the site for various reasons. Two leaders of another base, myself and my mother, three girls that we met in Pemba from all over the world and a 13 year old boy named Gary and his mothers friend who had brought him.
So anyways…
We got to the restaurant and sat at the back left at a wooden table with our backs to the incredible beach, the sounds of the ocean in our ears. The perfect night. I don't even remember what I ordered, tell the truth, but I know this much. Gary ordered the fish. Not that this was a new thing, he had had fish many times before being from Alaska and all so the following events don't make much sense. But I know what happened.
I was a recently qualified nurse. As a result, every cell of my brain was still ringing with the "warning signs" and "things to watch for" that had been brainwashed into us during training. I was two months into my acute nursing job on a break to do a missions trip. Every nurse in the world knows an anaphylactic shock when they see one. The tongue starts to swell, the throat also, closing up and then the lungs and all airways swell closed. Caused by a million different things but all causing one reaction - a fatal one. The only difference is the amount of grace time you have to do one of two things. 1) Get them to take a lot of antihistamine and hope it works quick enough (usually a rubbish plan) 2) Stab an adrenalin filled epi pen into their leg to reduce the swelling instantly. Without either of these options? 100% fatality rate. Every time.
So when my friend leant over and asked "do you have any antihistamine?" and i looked up, everything in me screamed and froze at the same time. Diagonally across from me, Gary was not only demonstrating a severe fish allergy, but it was happening at an alarming rate. Tongue swelling up we could already hear his windpipe closing. Rasping terrified breaths coming from his throat. I did the math, this was rapid onset, he had about 3 mins. The base was five mins away, I have no epi pen, he is already too swollen to swallow any pills.
This boy was going to die.
Right then, right there at the idyllic beach side restaurant, on a missions trip and yet not even in the machete wielding bush bush. By all accounts afterwards, none of them heard my instantaneous inner monologue but could read it as my face drained of all conceivable color as I realised what I was looking at. Years of nurse training for every eventuality had led me to this moment. There was nothing I could do. Nothing.
"Pray!" My friend yelled and we all started praying in tongues furiously and loudly, caring not about whether the waiters of another faith would be bothered or not. At the top of our lungs we commanded this thing to reverse, Gary now terrified unable to gasp a single lungful of air, me watching every scenario we had played out at nurse school panning out in front of me. This was not how it was meant to go. I was meant to be able to do something. This boy was not meant to die.
And then.
Gary sucked in a huge lungful of air and then another, sucking at the air like a fish out of water. He stuck his tongue out and infront of our eyes the swelling reduced and then went to nothing. The three minute mark had been reached. 'Three minutes and he will be dead'. Three minutes and…sitting infront of us was a perfectly normal, healthy, breathing 13yr old, looking slightly stunned but alive none the less. "I don't think I am going to have the rest of the fish" he chuckled sheepishly before leaving the table to wash his face. My friend turned to me. Until that moment I hadn't realised how frozen I had been "how bad was that?" I shook my adrenalin filled head "he should have been dead…he should have been dead…"
Three years of nursing had taught me one thing.
God's world is a gloriously upside down one.
posted by Claire at 9:04 AM
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