Three months

I don’t remember if I’ve written anything on here about B. Tomorrow marks his three month anniversary in the hospital. He’s six years old.

B is one of the younger children of a street family we know. They have a home in one of the favelas, but the mother and father (M and S) come into the city to work, and they have no one to leave their younger kids with – B, K, and K are all under six. We’ve known them for a while, and every Wednesday we go up to their area of the city, sit on the sidewalk next to the garbage piles from the nearby restaurants, and spend the afternoon with them and many of their friends and relatives visiting, counseling, playing games, praying, and being a presence in their lives. This afternoon we played UNO, talked about the latest birth, listened to life stories from new friends, and tried to solve several problems one of the women is having keeping custody of her children.

We also talked about B. He had surgery again this afternoon. That makes six operations on his leg – in the past three months. He was diagnosed with osteomyelitis – an infection of the bone and bone marrow – in his leg. This is the second time that he has been recovering and has had to have an unexpected surgery to remove the diseased bone tissue. Antibiotics don’t seem to be working.

Rich and I visit when we can – about once a week – to play (he’s also a big UNO fan), color, do crafts, help with homework… And the entire situation frustrates me. The doctors are doing all they can. They’re competent, qualified, and care for B. But three months… It’s hard on the family – they’re poor, and have to keep working. They try to have someone at the hospital at all times, but sometimes they can’t. So B sits in his hospital bed, alone. He’s brave. He’s trying to be, anyway.

If you think of him, say a prayer for B, and for his family – especially his parents. Three months is long enough for anyone…

PS – And now for something completely different… =) Thanks to ya’ll for sharing some thankful things below… =) I always appreciate it when my ramblings turn into some type of shared conversation – it makes me feel I’m not just whistling in the dark, talking to a wall.


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Filed under healing, prayer, sickness, streets

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