Finally, a boy is blind from one eye because of an explosion.
After the strong impact of the arrival, I start to remember why I am here. Back home in Italy everything is so simple and predictable. Health care is always guaranteed to everybody. We have access to the latest technologies and therapies … a medicine that is super high tech, avant-garde and interventionist, yet sometimes abusive. We rely on technology while we are loosing the relationship and communication with the patient, the simplicity of listening and taking care. And I ask myself how it is possible that you have the most modern hospitals on one side of the world, while on the other it is impossible even to find the most basic drugs such as paracetamol.
Being a doctor in the camp implies that you improvise with very little means and technical equipment. Sometimes I don’t have a phonendoscope and I have to listen to a baby’s lungs directly with my hear. This is something I had never done before. Sometimes I just listen to the patients and we simply try to understand each other; or I give a caress and we smile together when I don’t have the medicines needed or when I see that everything is going to heal by itself. Sometimes I feel useless, but I always feel at home.
The refugees camps often are an empty spot that SSCH alone will never be able to fill. They are a symbol of the failure of our society, because we have abandoned so many human beings in this cruel and hopeless limbo. Still, at the end of the day, we try to do what we can: with very little, sometimes nothing, and with the hope that it can be just a little help for somebody.