digits

Last night someone gave me there phone number. And no, it was not a Liberian male (Although I am convinced I have found the perfect therapy for any American woman experiencing bad self esteem: walk down a Liberian road. It's an instant cure. No where else in the world could you receive three offers of marriage on a three mile walk).Mary went home yesterday. Her VVF is fixed. She no longer has to live with the shame of incessantly leaking urine. I took our picture and printed a copy for her to take home. She left her address and phone number with the patient in the next bed over. It was hand delivered to me last night.

Mary showed me a picture from her dress ceremony. She looked radiant. I am so proud of her. I am so happy for her. I didn’t feel like she was a just a patient, she was a friend.
I had showed her picture of my family and dogs. I had laughed at jokes with her. She laughed at my half-mad-whimsical notions. She introduced me to her husband when he came to see her. (Her husband had to be a very special man- most men leave their wives when they develop this condition.)

I still can’t believe that I am in Africa taking care of these patients. At some point I suppose it will sink in.