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"When
I first saw little Tod, his brown eyes were deep-set from
dehydration. He
was limp, but could still wrinkle up his face and make faint crying
noises.
The
doctor reckoned that the tiny baby would die soon without
treatment. Sullen, listless, vomiting; the infant hadn't
urinated in 24 hours. I felt his warm body and thought, Lord,
surely you won't let this precious little life slip away!
I
held Tod while the nurse prepared a rehydration solution and gave it
to him through a syringe. We prayed with Tomiena Micky, Tod's
19-year-old mother. She watched the doctor with intense and
trusting eyes, but he was none too confident. Tod was not
taking enough liquid. In just a few hours, he had drifted into
semi-consciousness. The doctor could hear liquid in his left
lung. "He's slipping away," he said. "He
could die within a few hours."
I
radioed the ship to prepare and I.V. solution which the doctor would
inject directly into Tod's bone marrow--his veins had already
collapsed. Halfway through the transmission, the battery in my
hand-held radio died.
We
then approached a group of men who were carving a long, graceful
canoe from a breadfruit log. The carver summoned two boys, who
launched an 18-foot dugout canoe and paddled us out through the
lagoon to the ship. The whole process took about 20 minutes,
but it seemed like a lifetime.
The
crew had most of the supplies ready. We completed the
I.V. kit and
rushed back to shore. Then a miracle happened . . .
When
we arrived at the clinic, Tod was taking liquid and holding it
down! He was crying more rigorously, and his left lung sounded
better. He still had a long way to go, but the crisis had
passed.
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