Patricia Adrianzén de Vergara - I didn´t ask to be gold

Exhaustion and strong emotions overwhelmed me. My husband arrived to relieve me. It was very late. We had agreed that he would spend the night at Roger’s side so that I could return home to breastfeed my little Nataly, who was so weak and still so tiny. I told him about the incident with the medicine. “Thank God it happened when you were there,” he told me, “for I surely would not have given it any importance; I would have reacted like the nurse.”

I looked once more at my sleeping son. I was so sorry to have to leave him like that. I secretly checked his breathing again. I wanted to tell him so many things. Our friend, the pastor, was waiting for me. My husband had asked him to accompany me home, as the hour was late. I walked confidently, with a smile of gratitude, leaving a piece of myself on the stretcher in the emergency room.

11

Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.

(Romans 12:12)

We wanted to go to Lima. There was a missionary congress in the church that had sent us, and we wanted to take part. Also, I intended to take Nataly to other doctors for a second opinion to confirm her diagnosis. Nataly was already walking, but she was so weak that she constantly stumbled and fell.

It was under these circumstances that Roger also became ill. The doctor told us that, though the tests were negative, he was sure Roger had severe hepatitis; my son was in the most critical stage and could not travel. No, not even by plane; it was not advisable. It was better to wait for him to get better, at least to get him out of the critical state he was in.

Despite the serum, the vomiting did not subside. The injections did not help much. Roger was still wasting away and dehydrated. He was at home, but he would surely have to return to the hospital. I looked again at how frequently he was vomiting and made a decision. We would go to Lima. There, I could have him seen at the clinic where my dad and sister, both doctors, worked. His former pediatrician was also there; I wanted her to evaluate Nataly as well.

No, I would not stay here one more day. I would have to brave the airplane flight. I had to! I convinced my husband with my determined attitude and we began to pack. I packed nervously and quickly, while he asked on the phone if there was an overnight flight. No, there wasn’t. The last one had just left. The next flight was early the next day, at six in the morning.

I kept packing. It was like struggling with hope. Lima, at that moment, came to mean the way out, the escape, the door to the healing that was already late arriving here.

I called the young nurse who was helping to treat Roger at home. I asked her to please wait as late as possible before injecting Rogercito again. She did so. At 9:30 p.m. she gave him the last injection. It was supposed to last about six hours, but I prayed that it would last until we arrived at our destination. Roger continued to vomit that night. Anticipating of our departure gave me strength.

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