The Innocence of Child Anonymous

I stood there holding my stethoscope, listening to a five year-old child’s back, nervously searching for any abnormality, trying to control my nerves and focus on my work. I shifted my stethoscope to another spot, the sweat on my back now beading through my shirt. I could not rid myself of the thought that I could mess up while taking the patient’s vital signs, as doing so was crucial for entire process, and I had one of the most important roles in my group that day. As I struggled out some Spanish I had learned upon landing in Costa Rica just a few days ago, I thought I heard a faint crackle. I doubted my ears and checked again, choking out something that resembled “otra vez” to get the coughing child to breathe deeply one more time. When I confirmed the crackling sound, I reported my findings to the recorder in my group.

When we finished the general check-up we called for one of the two volunteer doctors to come diagnose the sick child. The doctor re-examined him to make sure our results were correct. She concluded the little child had cystic fibrosis, and explained that it was a genetic disease that created mucus blockage in the lungs; as of now it is incurable, and fatal to the patient without proper treatment. I honestly...