Checking children’s sight is always something of an adventure.  First we pile into the pick-up truck and bump our way along dusty unmade roads to get to the remote rural schools we are trying to reach.  A few dodgy bridges later we make it to the school in question and are welcomed by the teachers. 

 

“I have children in my school that cannot see the blackboard,” they exclaim, “It would make such a difference to them to have glasses.  Come in!” 

 

We stick our Snellen charts to the wall and cover eyes with our homemade pirate patches.  The children jostle and giggle, not wanting to be the first in line.  One by one we check their sight and it becomes apparent some have serious problems, and others cannot see for close work.

 

Edison cannot even see the biggest letters on the chart.  How he is learning anything I do not know.  His teacher says he is a frequent non attendee – perhaps for obvious reasons.

 

Lisbet is nine years old and has a lazy eye that is no longer seeing much because she has never had the spectacles she needs to make it work.  Glasses can make her vision 100% better given a little time. 

 

A few days later we take these children to the optician.  They climb into the back of the pick-up, many with their Mum or Granny, and we bump along the track to town, covering them in dust.  I have some 30 people in the vehicle and hope no policemen take issue with us. 

 

Once in the optician the faces of the children light up at the sparkly, shiny glasses on display.  They have never seen anything like it.  They complete their tests and choose their spectacles, breath held in excitement.  The bright pink and yellow frames prove popular. 

 

A fifteen year old girl is already blind in one eye from a neglected infection that has scarred the macula.  Her other eye is now deteriorating and she needs an urgent appointment with the ophthalmologist.  She is only now finishing primary school as she has had to repeat several years due to learning difficulties caused by malnutrition.  Her mother is raising her and her 7 siblings alone, and has no work.  Sometimes there is not enough to eat. 

 

The optician comments a twelve year old’s sight problems seem to her to be psychological.  This girl came home to find her mother had shot herself some 3 years ago.  I hope I can persuade her father to allow me to find her help with a psychologist. 

 

In a few days I will take Edison his mega strong spectacles, with which he can read to the second last line of the chart.  I hope he will wear them with pride and be able to learn.  I hope he will enjoy school more and attend.  I hope he will have a brighter future due to this simple helping hand he is being given. 

 

My heart goes out to these children who have such a simple need, and hope that being able to see better will make a real difference in their lives.  I hope they will study hard and make something of themselves.  I hope they will now be able to read the little Bible story books we have given them, and will understand the reason why we help them.  I hope they will remember this gesture of kindness and reach out to help a friend in need when they have the opportunity.        

It is a privilege to have the opportunity to offer patients not only physical but also spiritual help.  This is particularly the case when I am attending palliative care patients.  Many of these dear people will forever be in my memory and my heart. 

I visited Señora Maria for a year.  I will never forget her warm welcome and gentle ways.  She had terminal cancer, and had had to leave her small farm and come to live in the city with her daughter so that she could care for her.  Each time we visited her daughter ushered us in with great kindness, making us comfortable, offering us food and drink, and finding soft toys for my one year old to play with.  Only then could we turn to the business in hand of finding out how Señora Maria was feeling, and what medicines she needed to control the swelling in her legs and the pain in her abdomen. 

Sometimes getting to her house was a challenge.  In the rainy season the road became a sea of mud, and I had to leave my car far from the house and wade through the sticky dirt to reach her home.  Once inside I was made to sit and eat chicken and chips in recognition of the effort I had made to visit, and in appreciation of the help we offered.

Once she felt more comfortable physically she looked for spiritual support in her difficult circumstances.  A local pastor accompanied me on the next visit, and his simple songs and reading of the psalms, accompanied by his willingness to listen and to offer comfort and hope lifted Maria´s spirits.  Her daughter asked the pastor to visit again. 

As time went on Maria became weaker, and finally bed bound.  Her smile never failed her, even when she was too frail to talk much.  Our visits became more frequent in order to keep her comfortable and at peace.  One evening her daughter phoned asking me to visit the next day as Maria had taken a turn for the worse.  When I arrived she was lying in bed with her eyes closed, relaxed and pain free.  As I held her hand and told her who I was she whispered, “Sing me a hymn Doctor.”  I sang to her, not letting go of her hand, and prayed with her.  She was ready to meet her Maker, her Lord.  She died later that evening. 

Tears trickled down my cheeks during that final visit, my last opportunity to accompany that dear, kind, beloved grandmother and mother who had also become my friend.  But I was glad she was at peace.  I was glad I had had the chance to befriend her and point her to her Saviour.  I was glad I had made the effort to wade through the mud.  I was glad she was safe in Jesus´ arms and in His loving care.  I was glad I had not only helped her with medicines but also shared my faith.