As I approached the hospital today, the director of the Kindergarten, with her trail of children in matching smocks pitter-pattering behind, stopped me and said she heard one of my patients, Rakietou Abdrunass, died. She was 4 months old. The photo at the left is when we released her from the hospital when she had gained enough weight to surpass the average kilos for her height.
She died of dehydration due to diarrhea. 2.1 million children a year die from complications due to illnesses which cause diarrhea.
She was seriously malnourished upon entry. We got her weight stabilized (I was helping with the feedings 8 times a day) and got to know the family. The sad thing was the mom just wouldn't listen. The dad was involved, and bought meds; but, then when we put her into "ambulatoire" mode, mom'd give the kid dirty water again and her diarrhoea would come back. The first post-release visit I did with the family, Raki was looking good. Smiling and even recognized me. It was a good day. We let them go home again with new packets of re-hab milk and scheduled another visit. 7 days later. At the rendez-vous, Raki was at a lower weight than when she first came into the program. Her face was contorted and she was crying constantly. She refused the breast and would barely take the bottled milk. She died that night. So I went home and I planted a moringa tree. Maybe it will flourished even in this incredibly unforgiving climate.
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