In the queue at the hospital checkout
I also occasionally have to pay a bill at the till. There are seven patients in front of me and I try to be patient. A young man is waiting right next to me. I know him a little because he was one of my patients in the endoscopy department. There are certainly reasons for his gastritis, stress and worry are probably among them.
Now he approaches me and asks if he could perhaps talk to a social worker about his own bill. “Of course,” I say. “You can describe your case, maybe you’ll get a discount!”
His journey was long and I can imagine the cost of the bus ride home. No small matter.
And when I think about his life situation, I feel sorry for him. He is one of probably 4,000 patients being treated at the Diospi Suyana Hospital this month. But I know his name and his face. And his worry lines have not escaped me.
That’s how it is with hardship and poverty. The images on television and terrible statistics leave us pretty cold until the misery becomes personal. One life story touches us more than the entire World Health Organization yearbook.
And as I slowly move forward in the queue, I gain the inner conviction that we at Diospi Suyana must do much more to help the people of southern Peru. /KDJ
