The roosters are calling in the distance. A dog is barking. The still, cool of the mountain air seems to invite a deep crispness to the morning. As I step out of my tent, and look to the mountains, I notice that they are becoming more snow capped each day. What does this mean for the people still displaced very far north without shelter? Time is of the essence.
Today I will visit a new hospital. One that is being set up in a hotel, part of which was destroyed by the earthquake. The international relief agencies will only be here for a short while, but the health infrastructure needs to be rebuilt. Many doctors and nurses died in the main hospital on that fateful Saturday morning. There is now a shortage of health professionals, especially nurses. At their request, we will help to train some more local nurses in an effort to make the hospital a more sustainable one.
I head a story last night from a new friend. On the day of the earthquake, most schools were open and in session. Many young children lost their lives as the earth shook the schools to rubble. My friend looked up and said, “but my sister's school was closed that day. She was at home, and thank god she is still with us.”
We saw many injuries in the hospital yesterday. Many children and women with fractured femurs and tibias. Many fractures were open and severely infected. My colleague transferred a high-risk pregnant woman to the helicopter pad where she was flown to a high-risk hospital. Care for many people in this area has been intermittent, often substandard, antibiotics are not always available or not taken correctly. I wonder what we will see today.
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