Infants countrywide suffer
She was lying unattended in the nursery attached to maternity ward 65 at Chris Hani-Baragwanath Hospital. She smiled as I picked her up.
The name "Agnes" was written on the top line of the scrappy chart placed under her bassinet in the nursery.
After arriving at the hospital on Friday to volunteer, I was put in charge of four babies in the ward. The only skills I had to offer were those of a mother: changing nappies and feeding babies.
Across the country, many more babies like Agnes suffered under the public service strike that began on Wednesday, crippling the country's already struggling public health system.
At Soweto's Chris Hani-Baragwanath Hospital, which can accommodate just under 3000 patients, 1400, too ill to be discharged, -remained at the weekend.
DA health spokesman Jack Bloom said at Johannesburg's 1000-bed Charlotte Maxeke Academic Hospital that just under 600 patients remained.
Nobody, he said, was being admitted to the Natalspruit Hospital, on Gauteng's East Rand, where 53 tiny premature babies were left to starve and with no one to care for them on Wednesday. They were transferred to private clinics on Wednesday night.
Tales of babies like Agnes have prompted South Africans to come out in their hundreds to volunteer to work at state hospitals. Yusuf Abramjee, of civic campaigning organisation Lead SA, said that, by yesterday, 2050 people had offered to help.
But, as the work-week begins today, senior Gauteng health officials are worried that there will be too few volunteers.
Chris Hani-Baragwanath deputy chief executive Pungie Lingham said that though "lots" of army medics had been sent to help, volunteers were still needed. On Saturday, more than 100 volunteers arrived and by 11.30am yesterday, they had 85 to help.
On Friday, however, I was only the sixth volunteer to arrive.
I was dispatched swiftly to the maternity ward, where the only nurse in the ward - which usually has two sisters, three enrolled nurses and three auxiliary nurses - thanked me repeatedly.
She had been left by her colleagues to manage a ward full of mothers who had just given birth. There was no time to attend to the four babies in the nursery.
I picked up Agnes first, just before 1pm. Her chart said that she hadn't been held, or fed, since 9am. She was naked except for a nappy. She has no clothes.
Agnes drank hungrily. The hole in the cheap plastic hospital bottle's teat was cracked and she almost choked on the flood of infant milk formula that came coursing down her throat as she sucked. But she would not stop.
Her chart said that she had been abandoned. The sister said that, though she was a month old, social workers had not yet taken her to place her in care.
On the admission form, the mother's occupation was listed as "child". Pre-natal care? "None".
Agnes's nappy needed to be changed. Rough paper towels were the only product on offer. I asked the sister for cotton wool to clean the babies because there were none of the wipes that middle-class mothers are accustomed to using.
Agnes's genitals were swollen and covered in red welts from untreated nappy rash.
The only relief on offer for her was a tiny tub of Bennet's Bum Cream, the promotional tubs given to new mothers in maternity packs at private hospitals.
She smiled at me as I finished, which made me want to weep. Smiling is a baby's first milestone, something that usually happens at six weeks. But here was a tiny infant, a bright baby despite her nurses' sporadic care, smiling at me.
There were three other babies to care for, including a two-month-old abandoned boy who had been born eight weeks prematurely. He too had severe nappy rash. Unlike Agnes, he lay awake in his cot without crying, perhaps having realised that a baby's most natural instinct would not bring him any attention.
The other two were newborns whose mothers had had birth complications and were in intensive care.
One of them, a tiny girl, was dehydrated and had not been fed since 9am. She refused to drink and the sister had to force her to swallow.
While attending to the others, Agnes started to cry. When I asked the sister to hold her, she said: "Haai, that one, she just wants to be picked up and held and fed. We can't carry her around all the time. Leave her."
The overworked sister, Friday's hero of ward 65, wasn't being callous.
Before 5pm I had to go home to my own small children, who, as babies, were held when they wanted to be held, and fed when they wanted food.
Agnes's cries are still ringing in my ears.
By NICKI GÜLES, Times Live
She was lying unattended in the nursery attached to maternity ward 65 at Chris Hani-Baragwanath Hospital. She smiled as I picked her up.
The name "Agnes" was written on the top line of the scrappy chart placed under her bassinet in the nursery.
After arriving at the hospital on Friday to volunteer, I was put in charge of four babies in the ward. The only skills I had to offer were those of a mother: changing nappies and feeding babies.
Across the country, many more babies like Agnes suffered under the public service strike that began on Wednesday, crippling the country's already struggling public health system.
At Soweto's Chris Hani-Baragwanath Hospital, which can accommodate just under 3000 patients, 1400, too ill to be discharged, -remained at the weekend.
DA health spokesman Jack Bloom said at Johannesburg's 1000-bed Charlotte Maxeke Academic Hospital that just under 600 patients remained.
Nobody, he said, was being admitted to the Natalspruit Hospital, on Gauteng's East Rand, where 53 tiny premature babies were left to starve and with no one to care for them on Wednesday. They were transferred to private clinics on Wednesday night.
Tales of babies like Agnes have prompted South Africans to come out in their hundreds to volunteer to work at state hospitals. Yusuf Abramjee, of civic campaigning organisation Lead SA, said that, by yesterday, 2050 people had offered to help.
But, as the work-week begins today, senior Gauteng health officials are worried that there will be too few volunteers.
Chris Hani-Baragwanath deputy chief executive Pungie Lingham said that though "lots" of army medics had been sent to help, volunteers were still needed. On Saturday, more than 100 volunteers arrived and by 11.30am yesterday, they had 85 to help.
On Friday, however, I was only the sixth volunteer to arrive.
I was dispatched swiftly to the maternity ward, where the only nurse in the ward - which usually has two sisters, three enrolled nurses and three auxiliary nurses - thanked me repeatedly.
She had been left by her colleagues to manage a ward full of mothers who had just given birth. There was no time to attend to the four babies in the nursery.
I picked up Agnes first, just before 1pm. Her chart said that she hadn't been held, or fed, since 9am. She was naked except for a nappy. She has no clothes.
Agnes drank hungrily. The hole in the cheap plastic hospital bottle's teat was cracked and she almost choked on the flood of infant milk formula that came coursing down her throat as she sucked. But she would not stop.
Her chart said that she had been abandoned. The sister said that, though she was a month old, social workers had not yet taken her to place her in care.
On the admission form, the mother's occupation was listed as "child". Pre-natal care? "None".
Agnes's nappy needed to be changed. Rough paper towels were the only product on offer. I asked the sister for cotton wool to clean the babies because there were none of the wipes that middle-class mothers are accustomed to using.
Agnes's genitals were swollen and covered in red welts from untreated nappy rash.
The only relief on offer for her was a tiny tub of Bennet's Bum Cream, the promotional tubs given to new mothers in maternity packs at private hospitals.
She smiled at me as I finished, which made me want to weep. Smiling is a baby's first milestone, something that usually happens at six weeks. But here was a tiny infant, a bright baby despite her nurses' sporadic care, smiling at me.
There were three other babies to care for, including a two-month-old abandoned boy who had been born eight weeks prematurely. He too had severe nappy rash. Unlike Agnes, he lay awake in his cot without crying, perhaps having realised that a baby's most natural instinct would not bring him any attention.
The other two were newborns whose mothers had had birth complications and were in intensive care.
One of them, a tiny girl, was dehydrated and had not been fed since 9am. She refused to drink and the sister had to force her to swallow.
While attending to the others, Agnes started to cry. When I asked the sister to hold her, she said: "Haai, that one, she just wants to be picked up and held and fed. We can't carry her around all the time. Leave her."
The overworked sister, Friday's hero of ward 65, wasn't being callous.
Before 5pm I had to go home to my own small children, who, as babies, were held when they wanted to be held, and fed when they wanted food.
Agnes's cries are still ringing in my ears.
By NICKI GÜLES, Times Live
2 comments:
I have tears in my eyes after reading this story.
I just cannot believe that a baby this age has to go through this ordeal.
The medical profession, educators and the police force should never strike.
Their strike affects the running of the country, people die order and violence spread quickly.
I do believe that they deserve a much better salary and some perks, but I don't think that this is the way to go about it.
It is also about time that the government realises that these people are our daily heroes, they deserve to lead a decent life and the only way is by offering them good salary packages and benefits.
Maria Helena
This is a story that tugs my heartstrings, I felt like to cry, it touched me deeply.
But, in the other hand, the dedication of some doctors, nurses and volunteers gives me some hope.
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