In the shack of wretchedness

Nurses emulate Florence Nightingale

Patients come and patients go.  They are admitted to and then discharged from hospital.  Each hospital bed and each chair in the waiting room could tell countless stories.  If the nurses succeed in treating all patients lovingly and well, they have done their duty.  They need to keep up the good work until their shift is over and then they can relax.

Tim Boeker operates on a patient, nothing new for the traumatologist, but this operation sticks in everyone’s mind.  The man is deaf and mute and his need catches one’s eye immediately.  The radio then reports that his family’s house has been burgled – ouch – and the little that the family possessed has now also been taken from them.

The nurses on the ward stuck their heads together and knew that duty called: we must help.  During the course of the next few days they collected foodstuffs and clothing from their colleagues at Diospi Suyana.  Armed with their gifts they headed off in the direction of the mud house; to describe it as a shabby shack would be more fitting.

As it turns out the patient’s sister and brother are also deaf and mute.  The inside of where they live shows how desperately needed the nurses’ visit was – it was a private initiative performed during their time off.

At night Florence Nightingale walked with her lamp through the sick wards.  She had a heart for the wounded and was always ready to help.  For many generations after her she embodies selfless service.  Our nurses from our sick ward followed Florence’s good example by bringing light to the dark circumstances of a Quechua family.

Boxes full of supplies for the family.
Bread for the sick.
Nine good Samaritans in the schack.
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