, , , , ,

He Has A Name

On Saturday, after 24 hours, I was sure, Elmer, his family called him “Boy”, would die. He was hardly conscious. He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink. I was sure his lungs were full of fluid. After every coughing fit, I would hold my breath to see if he kept on breathing. Read more

, , , ,

A Dying Man

His skin has a sallow color, his lips dry. He is extremely weak, dehydrated, and unbelievably thin. The odor of death, sweet and it stains my nostrils.

Somehow watching him struggle to breathe, robs me of my own breath. Read more

, , ,

Crystal May – Burned

I am livid. My mind whirling. How can this be called medical treatment?

Her mother is hysterical. The grandmother’s face swollen from crying. The grandfather sounding his own cries of unbelief and distress. In the chaos, I struggle to understand the whole story and I am distracted by Crystal… she doesn’t stop whimpering. Read more