Lancing an Abscess
[Adventures in Faith: India; 1991] We met a homeless woman with a huge wound on the side of her face. We took her to a hospital for treatment. The results were explosive.
One morning we were walking toward the hospital. We were going to do volunteer work at Patel Community Hospital.
On the way, we noticed something really weird. Two dogs were running down the street. One was partly on top of the other, as if they were trapped in a mating position.
But their bodies were at an angle to each other. The angle varied, but it was roughly 90°.
They each tried to run in different directions. Every second or two, one of them yiped with pain.
They were running away from us faster than we could catch them. And even if we could catch them, we had no idea what to do.
We looked at each other with bewildered expressions, and kept walking.
As we got closer to the hospital, we noticed a woman.
Like many people in Chennai, she was homeless. She was living with her family on the sidewalk.
All her family’s possessions were spread out across a short section of the sidewalk. There were bedsheets, a few dishes, and a pot hanging over a modest burner.
What arrested our attention wasn’t her homelessness. What stood out was a wound.
She had a huge wound on one side of her face. It was a protrusion. It bulged out from where her cheek and jaw would normally be. It stuck out several inches.
It was like someone took half of a big grapefruit and crammed it under her cheek.
We stopped to ask her some questions. She had been that way for a while.
As she talked, she seemed to be in great pain. Her words were contorted, probably due to the swelling. So we offered to take her to a doctor to get it treated.
The woman seemed surprised. She was quite poor, and we were foreigners.
She turned from us to talk with her husband. It turns out that he was either a carpenter or a mason. For his backbreaking labor, he earned about 25 Rupees a day. That was equivalent to $1.00 U.S.
After some discussion, the woman said she would come with us.
We walked her to the hospital.
We were there quite regularly doing volunteer work. We members of the Believers group helped take care of patients who were dying. And we cleaned.
And we built a playground for children. Right after children received their inoculations, they could play in this brand new playground. It was beautiful.
It had the only grass I ever saw in Chennai.
The Believers group had a lot of experience with the hospital staff. We had found some staff members to be exemplary and even heroic, while others were lazy or corrupt. It’s probably like that in any large group of people.
Our observation was it would often be quite difficult for a poor person to actually receive treatment at this hospital for poor people.
When the poor person initially arrived at the hospital, the first staff members they would meet would often be under-motivated.
At each step of the way, the staff member might shout. Or throw a tantrum. Or order them to leave.
We had been told that some hospital staff demanded baksheesh. If the poor person didn’t have the money to pay that bribe, they would be turned away.
The troubles didn’t stop when the poor person was finally admitted.
When the doctor made a visit, if meds were prescribed, it was up to the poor person to walk to a chemist and buy the meds.
Usually the poor person couldn’t even begin to walk to a chemist. Nor could they afford to buy the meds.
They needed money. Plus they needed a family member or other person to go buy the meds.
Sometimes the poor person had nobody. If we heard of such a case, and if we were able, we did that for people.
Also, the hospital was insufficiently staffed for the onslaught of patients. There were many.
Also, some care was delegated to the family. For example, food, feeding, changing bedclothes, toilet visits and more.
If a poor person was alone, those things simply did not happen.
If we heard of such a case, and if we were able, we did those things for people.
So this homeless woman was ushered into the hospital by two white foreigners.
Upon getting some advice, we were able to take her to the waiting room of the right doctor.
Instead of saying, “upon getting some advice,” I should more accurately say, “upon compelling some advice.”
Members of the Believers group generally got what they wanted.
If they couldn’t get what they wanted by gentle requests, they’d step it up. They did what I think of as “agitating.”
Some people in the Believers group (not me) were quite skilled at confrontation.
If they learned that the hospital had denied a poor person what was needed, our conflict-oriented members would pay a personal visit to the offending party.
There would be a confrontation. It wouldn’t end until things were made right, not for us, but for the poor person.
I found our conflictual members intimidating. Frightening, even. But they seemed to have some unique gifts required in this situation.
In a way, those conflictual people were a God-given corrective to the indifference and corruption among hospital staff.
But the conflicts made the Believers group notorious.
So there we were in the waiting room with this homeless woman. After a suitable wait, it was her turn. She walked into the exam room. We accompanied her.
As the doctor saw her, he grimaced a bit. Her illness was gross and obvious. And she was poor. Her sari was cheap and threadbare. In a nation of the sandaled, she was barefoot.
As the doctor saw us foreigners, his lips frowned slightly. He was aware of our notoriety. And with our presence, he knew he couldn’t turn away this homeless woman.
His frown was priceless.
The doctor assured us he would treat her illness, and invited us to return to the waiting room.
From the waiting room, we could hear the sounds of the treatment. She made groaning sounds, signaling that she was afraid.
He told her to be brave and sit still.
After a short while, her groans of fear escalated. He raised his voice, again telling her to be still.
Suddenly, she shouted in pain. We heard the doctor make a gasp: “Uhhh.”
About five minutes later, the exam room door opened. She stepped out. The bulge on her neck was gone. A big bandage was on her neck.
The doctor walked up to the door. He told us he had “lanced” the abscess. That meant he popped it, like when people pop a balloon with a pin.
That’s what he did to her abscess. He almost certainly did not give her an anesthetic; hence, she shouted in pain.
That also explains his gasp of “Uhhh.” There was a gooey substance on his lab coat. That was the stuff that sprayed out of her face when he lanced her abscess.
RESOURCES
At Wikipedia
Incision and drainage (“lancing”)
ADVENTURES IN FAITH
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