Empathy vs. Sympathy

“Hey Khamis, I hope you are doing good. Now, I have a friend that went into labor last night. We took her to this clinic but she isn’t progressing well. We are thinking of bringing her over to your facility for further management. I hope you are around…or if you aren’t, if you could kindly connect us to someone who can assist us?” Me: No problem, I am actually around, just let me know when you get here.

That was my pal Faith (not her real name). I can’t recall exactly how we had met and later on became this very good friends, but all I know is that we were very good friends. Well…over time, we just lost contact...but we were this good friends then. Maybe I assisted her once in my line of duty and that’s how we became acquainted? Anyway, that’s not the issue.

Faith told me that the vehicle ferrying her friend had just left and that they would be at the hospital in like 20 minutes’ time. Luckily, I was at work so I waited for them. True to her word, in like 18 minutes later, the private vehicle ferrying her friend arrived. This was around 4:30pm.

True to her word, her friend Mercy (not her real name), had gone into labor the previous night but wasn’t able to progress well. The clinic upon which they had taken her to deliver at, for some unknown reason, couldn’t refer them in time and when it was now evident that their client wasn’t going to deliver normally as anticipated, decided to refer her later instead.

A quick examination revealed that “things were not good”. Just so maybe I paint a picture for you dear reader, the baby’s head was very visible at the vulva area (which was very swollen) and the baby’s head had developed a swelling too (referred to as caput succedaneum in medical terms). Ideally, once the head is visible at the vulva, the baby should be delivered as soon as possible. This baby had been stuck there for hours! The baby had also developed an abnormal heart rate, an indication of fetal distress…a situation where we mostly say, “mtoto amechoka” (the baby is tired). An emergency caesarian section had to be done. It was nearing 5pm.

I explained all these to Faith and Mercy’s husband Moses (not his real name) and without wasting time, after obtaining consent, we went in for surgery. The procedure was successful and we delivered a healthy baby boy that weighed 4.1kgs. Owing to the distress, the baby had to be placed in a newborn unit for he was to be monitored closely until when he stabilized. Mercy was wheeled to the Post-natal wing for her continued care. She was so tired and weak albeit glad that everything turned out right. Both Faith and Moses later went back home. It was imperative that they get some good rest and then come back the next morning with fresh supplies for both the mother and baby.

As I bid them bye, I couldn’t help but notice how proud and happy Moses was. A new father at 24 years old! His wife had given him a son!!! The African in him couldn’t just keep calm. I remember him walking away, head held high like a kite, a smile on his face and shoulders broadened. He was a new dad…and a proud one. I remember spending time with Mercy and later at night, I also went home to get some rest.

At around 5am, I got a phone call. I was needed urgently at the hospital. “Kuna case…” the caller told me. That was code for, “we have a patient due for surgery” and being the one on call, my presence was needed. I immediately made way to the hospital which was a stone’s throw away from my place of residence at the medical staff quarters. Where I worked, caesarian sections were the order of the day given that our facility was the referral hospital of choice in the entire area.

I immediately made way to the maternity wing so that I could get a brief history of the patient in question before wheeling them to the operating theatre. “Well, where is she?” I asked at the reception. My colleague looked at me and her eyes gave her away. I wasn’t there for a surgical procedure. Something else had happened. “Is Mercy okay?” I asked and my colleague nodded in the affirmative. “Oh no…not the baby…!” I said this as I dashed to the new born unit which was adjacent to the wing. Well, my fears were confirmed. The baby was no more. I stood there motionless. This wasn’t happening. Maybe I was dreaming. My colleague, who had followed me to the N.B.U mumbled a weak, “I am so sorry Khamis…”. I asked her if they had informed the mother. She said no, they hadn’t yet. Apparently, the baby had developed breathing complications at night and they had spent the better part of the night doing all they can in resuscitating the baby to no avail. The oxygen tank, nasal prongs and an assortment of other medical supplies lay strewn all over, an indication of the mega efforts they had put in trying to save the life of the little angel. “We lost him minutes ago prior to calling you. I just can’t bring myself to informing the mother…that’s why I called you. Help me in breaking the devastating news to her Khamis”.

I gathered courage and made my way to her bed.

There she was, very much awake. I could see her eyes thanks to the dimly lit light that pierced through the hospital curtains. I greeted her and she immediately replied but before I could say anything, she told me, “the baby is no more, right?” I couldn’t look her in the eye. I lowered my gaze. She then went ahead and told me, “I had a feeling all wasn’t right. There have been movements all over yet there haven’t been any screams coming from the labor ward. So I figured out that if there was no client for delivery, the only other thing that could have kept the night staff awake was my son. It’s okay Khamis…you guys tried your best. When I saw my son being taken to the NBU I just had a feeling all wasn’t well. I haven’t slept a wink. I am so sorry Khamis…be strong”.

I was torn into pieces. How could a woman who had undergone so much pain in the last 24 hours have the courage to be this calm and understanding? This broke my heart. I shed a tear…yes I did. I know we are trained to try and hide our emotions during such times but nothing prepares one for such, for we are human too. I asked her if she had informed Moses, he hubby and she told me that she hadn’t. She preferred that I did it. Just when I thought I had dodged a bullet!

I tried calling Moses via his phone but I couldn’t get him. His phone was off! I then called Anne and explained to her what had just transpired. She couldn’t believe it. She told me to try and get in touch with Moses for she couldn’t just bring herself to informing him of the tragedy. Moses’s phone wasn’t going through. I wrapped the baby in some clean linen and lay it decently on some concrete slab. It was nearing 7:30am.

I remember going back to spend some time with Mercy and at around 8;30am, I decided to leave for my house and come back later. At the further end of the corridor I spotted Moses sauntering in accompanied by what appeared to be a bunch of his friends. He was visibly elated and he had with him two huge bags of what appeared like shopping for the baby. One of his friends carried a brand new baby’s basin. As soon as Moses saw me, his eyes beamed with excitement. He ran towards me as he urged his friends to follow suit.

I stood there transfixed…motionless.

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