Remembering Elijah

On August 7th, 2006 I met Elijah. At 11:30 I got a call that there was a baby that needed admitted. I don’t think I have ever been more nervous. I knew that any baby that was coming up here would be sick. I couldn’t reach our translator. What if this was more than I could handle? After all, I had only been filling the role that a doctor should be filling for a few months, if this time was too much, then what?

When I answered the door with the nanny she wouldn't even take the baby that was being held at arms length by the orphanage employee, he looked terrible. I have never, even in textbooks, seen a baby this sick. When I took him I knew he wasn't going to live long. He was tied in filthy rags, but had a carefully tied red string around his wrist, the only sign that someone had loved him. I brought him up and unwrapped him. I didn't bother assessing him; I just gave him a bath and held him.

My first thought for him was a bath; I didn't want him to die dirty. When he lived through the hour I decided to unwrap him and look at him. He was so dehydrated and malnourished I could see his intestines. He was too weak to suck; even all my medical equipment for preemies was too much for him. He had an old scar on his belly so he wasn't newborn, probably at least 10 months, but he only weighed 4.4lbs. Eventually the orphanage doctor came up and told me they were taking him to the hospital. She was upset with me that I was holding him and that he wasn’t in the incubator, knowing full well he was dying and nothing would help him. They told me they would be back for him I prayed that the Lord would take him home before they came back.

The door bell rang again; they had come for him, more than an hour later. My heart broke, I knew that nothing good would happen and he would only suffer more if they took him. Instead of the doctors it was a couple from another organization who had been asked to come and get him and take him to the hospital. We waited about 5 minutes and I checked his heart rate. It was very uneven but that had happened several times since he arrived. We waited 5 more minutes and I walked them to the door. Before they left they asked me to check his heart rate again and it was barely there. I told them he wouldn't make it downstairs so we waited. Within a few minutes he was gone.

When he got here I named him Elijah. He had no other name and no birthday. For 5 wonderful hours the Lord gave him to me to care for and I have had few experiences that wonderful in my life. I was able to give him a name, sing to him, bathe him, and give him back to Jesus, I could not have asked for such a gift.

On August 7^th, 2006 I said goodbye to Elijah. I cried, but I was the only one who would cry for him. Perhaps Jesus will introduce us again someday, until then I’ll always remember those few hours.