"I lift up my eyes to the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth." Psalm 121: 1
Let me set the scene for you. Imagine a small town in the middle of nowhere surrounded on all sides by lush green sweeping mountains. The people are desperately poor but their hospitality far exceeds their income. Dark of skin, with larger eyes and higher cheekbones than their countrymen these individuals are known as the Yi minority people. The town is Zhaojue, the province Sichuan and the country? China.
I chose to do my medical elective in China with an organisation called MSI Professional Services. They work to serve the Yi people using various professional skills in a Christ-like manner. My placement was in community health, but also involved a great deal of hospital work.
The poverty I encountered during my time there was so far removed from any medical experience I had ever undergone in the UK, that I was shell-shocked for most of the first week. There is no NHS in China and each patient has to pay for whatever the medical system gives them, be it a mere consultation to an expensive investigation. Many of the patients could not afford treatment as they were so poor.
One particular case that sticks in my mind, is that of a 9 year old Yi girl. She was brought to the hospital outpatients in obvious discomfort one afternoon. One of the MSI doctors saw her and diagnosed a ruptured appendicitis on the basis of a brief history and examination. We accompanied her to the surgical department where one of the local doctors (resident) admitted her formally. It was clear she was in great distress, every jolt causing more pain as she was carried to the inpatient department on her mother's back. I longed to be able to talk to her and soothe her, but I could not because of the language barrier. The surgeon came to the same diagnosis as the MSI doctor, but the operation that was needed would cost money. The father left immediately to procure the amount required.
It was clear this was a surgical emergency and the little girl required an operation immediately. However, this could not take place until the father returned with the money. The hours crept by and as I was assigned by the MSI doctor to ensure that proceedings were speeded up, I tried to explain my distress to the local surgeon. He did not seem to understand my anxiety. Communications were complicated by my lack of Chinese and his lack of English. I could not understand why they were delaying the operation when they knew the money was coming. There was a real chance that the little girl might die before the money ever came. She had been put into a bed with a penicillin intravenous drip but was still obviously suffering severe abdominal pain. Eventually, the surgeon explained that they also needed the father's signature before the operation could take place. As I waited in frustration, I prayed that they would understand the urgency of the operation and that the money would come soon. I asked my Father to spare the life of this child who did not know Him yet.
Several hours after she had first been seen, the father finally arrived with the long awaited money. At long last as they began to make preparations, the surgeon's brother, who had a higher level of English, tried to explain to me that things were done differently in their country. I wondered if I had offended them by the urgency of my attitude and my inability to understand the delay.
I was given permission to attend the operation. As they prepared, the child lay terrified on the table. I had no language to explain to her what was happening but held her hand and comforted her as best I could. She kept on calling for her mother. I wondered if the theatre staff thought I was crazy for holding her hand, but no-one came to stop me so I carried on. As the operation proceeded I prayed for her to survive. At the end, the surgeons explained to me in broken English that everything was 'ok' now. And so it was, within 3 days she was sitting outside the hospital in the bright sunshine, clearly gaining in health from day to day.
She left over the weekend and I did not see her go, but as much as God answered my prayers for her to survive the operation; it is my hope that she and many others of that community will come to know the One who listens to our pleas for help. During the other difficult days of my elective I would often hear the words of Psalm 121 running through my heart as I sought to serve my Lord. And a visible reminder to me of His word were the mountains that surrounded and comforted me.
"The LORD will keep you from all harm - He will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and for evermore." Psalm 121: 7-8
Final Year Student
University of Wales, College of Medicine
October 2000
The author has asked to remain anonymous.
Let me set the scene for you. Imagine a small town in the middle of nowhere surrounded on all sides by lush green sweeping mountains. The people are desperately poor but their hospitality far exceeds their income. Dark of skin, with larger eyes and higher cheekbones than their countrymen these individuals are known as the Yi minority people. The town is Zhaojue, the province Sichuan and the country? China.
I chose to do my medical elective in China with an organisation called MSI Professional Services. They work to serve the Yi people using various professional skills in a Christ-like manner. My placement was in community health, but also involved a great deal of hospital work.
The poverty I encountered during my time there was so far removed from any medical experience I had ever undergone in the UK, that I was shell-shocked for most of the first week. There is no NHS in China and each patient has to pay for whatever the medical system gives them, be it a mere consultation to an expensive investigation. Many of the patients could not afford treatment as they were so poor.
One particular case that sticks in my mind, is that of a 9 year old Yi girl. She was brought to the hospital outpatients in obvious discomfort one afternoon. One of the MSI doctors saw her and diagnosed a ruptured appendicitis on the basis of a brief history and examination. We accompanied her to the surgical department where one of the local doctors (resident) admitted her formally. It was clear she was in great distress, every jolt causing more pain as she was carried to the inpatient department on her mother's back. I longed to be able to talk to her and soothe her, but I could not because of the language barrier. The surgeon came to the same diagnosis as the MSI doctor, but the operation that was needed would cost money. The father left immediately to procure the amount required.
It was clear this was a surgical emergency and the little girl required an operation immediately. However, this could not take place until the father returned with the money. The hours crept by and as I was assigned by the MSI doctor to ensure that proceedings were speeded up, I tried to explain my distress to the local surgeon. He did not seem to understand my anxiety. Communications were complicated by my lack of Chinese and his lack of English. I could not understand why they were delaying the operation when they knew the money was coming. There was a real chance that the little girl might die before the money ever came. She had been put into a bed with a penicillin intravenous drip but was still obviously suffering severe abdominal pain. Eventually, the surgeon explained that they also needed the father's signature before the operation could take place. As I waited in frustration, I prayed that they would understand the urgency of the operation and that the money would come soon. I asked my Father to spare the life of this child who did not know Him yet.
Several hours after she had first been seen, the father finally arrived with the long awaited money. At long last as they began to make preparations, the surgeon's brother, who had a higher level of English, tried to explain to me that things were done differently in their country. I wondered if I had offended them by the urgency of my attitude and my inability to understand the delay.
I was given permission to attend the operation. As they prepared, the child lay terrified on the table. I had no language to explain to her what was happening but held her hand and comforted her as best I could. She kept on calling for her mother. I wondered if the theatre staff thought I was crazy for holding her hand, but no-one came to stop me so I carried on. As the operation proceeded I prayed for her to survive. At the end, the surgeons explained to me in broken English that everything was 'ok' now. And so it was, within 3 days she was sitting outside the hospital in the bright sunshine, clearly gaining in health from day to day.
She left over the weekend and I did not see her go, but as much as God answered my prayers for her to survive the operation; it is my hope that she and many others of that community will come to know the One who listens to our pleas for help. During the other difficult days of my elective I would often hear the words of Psalm 121 running through my heart as I sought to serve my Lord. And a visible reminder to me of His word were the mountains that surrounded and comforted me.
"The LORD will keep you from all harm - He will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and for evermore." Psalm 121: 7-8
Final Year Student
University of Wales, College of Medicine
October 2000
The author has asked to remain anonymous.
