Children's Clinic Update

The little clinic found its place in the camp, the village of Mawella and the adjacent villages, and it is always busy. I am happy to say that we don't have any epidemics yet, which is a big success considering the very cramped conditions our families have to live in.

Here it is:

This is my assistant, Suranga Baduge. He has been essential in translating (Singhalese into English and back), documenting the examination results and transferring the medical histories into our newly designed and established computer database (thank you to Debbie and Elaine for manifesting what at the beginning has only been an idea):

I am proud to say that - out of nothing - we have actually created and established a model for basic medical care that now is easily transferable into any area that needs medical care. All our furniture, i.e. shelves, examination table, etc. have been built by Jonathan, Orrin and Susanthe. Orrin's last deed before he went back to Great Britain was the clinic sink, thank you!! Here it is, with a water tank in an adjacent tree (it works!! ... and, depending on the time of the day, the water even gets really hot!):

Our villagers brought this altar to us to bless the clinic:

And now, as you can see, the clinic is firmly in the hands of the children:

Sometimes, the lines get really long:

But once, you get into the waiting room, you are almost there:

As I had mentioned before, one of the things that have been very important to me, is to have a psychiatrist taking care of our families and the post-tsunami pain and unbelievable suffering they have to deal with. Dr. Sunietha Galappaththi came for one afternoon, and one of the things, Real Medicine is committed to, is to make sure these visits will happen on an ongoing basis.

In this one afternoon, Dr. Sunietha and I saw eight mothers who had lost one or more or all of their children. The pain is beyond comprehension and their stories are harrowing. I am not sure if it will ever be possible to fathom that this tragedy has happened to thousands and thousands of mothers and fathers and children in one single day.

One of the mothers we saw had lost her 3-year-old girl. She came initially because her 8-year-old boy, who had survived, had started to sleepwalk. That afternoon, she, for the first time since the tsunami had happened, was able to express her pain about how guilty she felt that she wasn't able to save her younger child. This is what many of the mothers expressed, in addition to the pain of the loss, the guilt of: if I only... So, we tried to tell her that she in this situation did the best she could. She expressed, too, that if the 8-year-old would have climbed on a palm tree by himself, she could have saved the little girl. All this while the boy, who is only eight years old himself, was listening without any expression. So, we tried to tell her that the boy now needs her love since he had lost a sibling and was mourning, too. Since I felt so helpless, I asked him, if he could paint a picture of the tsunami for us. About two hours later, he came back with a painting, all blue, with 18 human heads pointing in different directions in the water. He smiled for the first time when he proudly handed his painting to us as the one that started the gallery. I don't think it is possible to imagine what this little boy had to go through on December 26, 2004. We put his picture up on the wall in the clinic and had him sign his name:

Seeing the difference just one painting could make for a child, Suranga and I told all the kids in the camp that if they would paint a picture of the tsunami for us, they would be part of the clinic gallery and would get a tennis ball. We got dozens and dozens of paintings, and I am very happy that every child that wanted to, is represented with his or her picture in the clinic. Here are some more examples:

I bought and gave out more than ninety tennis balls. For one afternoon, everybody in the camp seemed to be playing with these tennis balls:

This actually made the clinic become something of a social meeting place. There are always people hanging out in the waiting room area; kids and adults, patients and non-patients, checking in on the patients or just chat. And often, the curtain is being pulled aside a little bit because someone is curious about what's going on in the examination area.

I had reported about the Tangalle hospital before. Nick Buckingham has made astounding progress renovating and upgrading the hospital. And he and his team actually found time as well to give the little clinic a beauty treatment. They came out early one morning, planting a garden in front of the clinic, setting up a fence, putting up a table in the examination room complete with tablecloth and flowers, chairs in the waiting area - thank you, guys, this was a beautiful surprise!!

One of my goals was that our clinic would be long-term, and integrated and accepted into the daily lives of our villagers. Thank you so much to Nick Buckingham who helped us find Dr. Ranjith, the wonderful doctor who will take care of the clinic and our patients when I have to return to Los Angeles. It is beautiful to know that it will be in such good hands!