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The fluoroscope screen flickered. The Dinamap beeped rhythmically. The sharp, pungent odor of Providone mixed with the soft, sweet smell of Isoflurane filled the air. The heavy stench of bleach hit the back of my throat, stirring an old, familiar dread in the pit of my stomach. The tension in the room hung like a wet blanket, causing a bead of sweat to drip from the anesthesiologist’s elbow. Instinctively, the scrub nurse grabbed a drainage sponge to wipe off the offending fluid. As the assisting resident doctor looked on anxiously, the anesthesiologist directed his gaze to the screen to assess his approach.
Here I was, right in the middle of a Fluoroscope-guided Epidural Insertion at the surgical suite of Hebron Medical Centre. Surrounded by the surgical team, the young female patient looked on worriedly at the fluoroscope screen before her. Before long, it was the resident trainee’s turn to finish the procedure. At some point, he paused, his teacher sighed and then proceeded to guide his hands. No time to waste.
As I stood there, scrolling through my mental inventory of impressions and needs, the realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. Here, the needs are real. They are tangible, and they are many. Speaking to the staff about their most pressing needs, I could almost sense they wanted to answer: We need everything and … everyone. And, by everyone, they meant everyone: surgeons, doctors, nurses, teachers, technicians, PTs, Ots and the like. Literally, everyone. Which begs the question: What could I have done – right there and then? How can I help?
It was here that my mind raced back to the story of Queen Esther of the Old Testament, when her uncle Mordecai advised her: “Don’t think that because you belong to the King’s house, that you are safe. For if you do nothing at this time, relief and deliverance … will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this.”
There. There was my answer. As for you, my dear reader, who knows what God has in store. For you. For us.
For Cambodia.
Who knows?
