At the children’s HIV clinic which we take the HIV+ Emmanuel children to there is a chart on the wall that lists how many HIV + children have been admitted this month (8), how many have transferred to other clinics (6) and how many have died (4). The furniture is simple (the examining table is the most basic wood table with a plastic table cloth on top), there are no computers and the medical supplies include only simple plastic gloves, tongue depressors, etc. (which is most than most Kenyan hospitals have), but the place is spotless (which most Kenyan hospitals are not) and the staff are cherry.
Brother (the remarkable volunteer at Emmanuel Center who does everything from monitoring the boys’ education to supervising their healthcare) and I take the HIV+ children to the clinic for medication refills.
The first child, let’s call him Dave, recently tested negative for HIV. The staff called me while I was still in Canada and told me he had ‘turned negative by a miracle.’ I instantly shot down their optimism, saying it is impossible to ‘turn negative.’ In fact I was harsh with them. I find belief in miraculous healing, when it comes to HIV, extremely dangerous – it leads to rash behavior and people praying instead of taking medication or protecting themselves. It turns out, on consulting the doctor, Dave’s first test for HIV must have been wrong. This happens occasionally, even in Canada. So though it wasn’t a miracle, there is good reason to celebrate.
The second child, let’s call him Sam, is one ARVs (HIV medication) but hasn’t been taking them regularly, even though Brother gives them to him at the allotted time each day. Sam who is 13 is rebelling like many 13 year olds do. He has realized that taking his medication on time is very important to the staff and so when he doesn’t get his way about something else he retaliates by refusing the medication. However, unlike many 13 year olds, his rebellion could truly shorten his life (not adhering to medication regimes can cause drug resistance). So the doctor, Brother and I all try and explain that the only person Sam is hurting is himself. Still I have to sympathize with him. I know many adults in Canada struggle to take their medication regularly; it is so much to ask of a child. We resolve the issue, hopefully, by agreeing to get him a watch with an alarm set for the time he must take the medication – this way he has to be responsible for himself, though of course he will still be monitored by Brother.
The third child, let’s call him Peter, is not on ARVs but is taking multivitamins to maintain his immune system. (The clinic gives us these and the medications for free through the fantastic program of Nymbani Children’s Home, funded by USAID.) The doctor asks Peter if he knows why he takes the vitamins and comes to the clinic, and Peter says no, though he has already been counseled many times about his HIV status. So we send him to the counselor to explain it all to him again. Once again I have to sympathize with him – HIV is a complicated disease, how can he really understand it?
Luckily, he comes out of the councilor’s office smiling and I could kiss the councilor in gratitude for doing such a hard job so well. She agrees to come to the center to test all the children again (we like to test them once a year) and provide counseling/education. However, she first has to request the extra supplies needed. She only gets about 100 testing kits a month and if she runs out before hand she can’t test anyone till she gets more.
As we leave we pass the line of mothers with children as young as infants and as old as 14 waiting to also see the doctor and get medications. I try and rejoice that they are at the clinic – after all HIV medications can help HIV+ individuals live a ‘normal’ life and these mothers and children are doing the right thing by being at the clinic. However, I feel that the reality where there is a need for a specific clinic for children with HIV is a sad reality. No one ‘should’ have HIV, which is after all completely preventable, but children ‘should’ especially be free from the virus.
Thinking about the way the world ‘should’ be often makes me want to blame someone for the way it actually is. In this case I can’t blame the doctors, children or mothers. The only blame I can point is at those of us who know how to prevent mother-child transmission and who haven’t done a good enough job at communicating it and making it possible (prevention requires good maternity healthcare facilities and a nutritious supplement to breast milk) in places like Kenya. It’s a harsh reality.
Brother (the remarkable volunteer at Emmanuel Center who does everything from monitoring the boys’ education to supervising their healthcare) and I take the HIV+ children to the clinic for medication refills.
The first child, let’s call him Dave, recently tested negative for HIV. The staff called me while I was still in Canada and told me he had ‘turned negative by a miracle.’ I instantly shot down their optimism, saying it is impossible to ‘turn negative.’ In fact I was harsh with them. I find belief in miraculous healing, when it comes to HIV, extremely dangerous – it leads to rash behavior and people praying instead of taking medication or protecting themselves. It turns out, on consulting the doctor, Dave’s first test for HIV must have been wrong. This happens occasionally, even in Canada. So though it wasn’t a miracle, there is good reason to celebrate.
The second child, let’s call him Sam, is one ARVs (HIV medication) but hasn’t been taking them regularly, even though Brother gives them to him at the allotted time each day. Sam who is 13 is rebelling like many 13 year olds do. He has realized that taking his medication on time is very important to the staff and so when he doesn’t get his way about something else he retaliates by refusing the medication. However, unlike many 13 year olds, his rebellion could truly shorten his life (not adhering to medication regimes can cause drug resistance). So the doctor, Brother and I all try and explain that the only person Sam is hurting is himself. Still I have to sympathize with him. I know many adults in Canada struggle to take their medication regularly; it is so much to ask of a child. We resolve the issue, hopefully, by agreeing to get him a watch with an alarm set for the time he must take the medication – this way he has to be responsible for himself, though of course he will still be monitored by Brother.
The third child, let’s call him Peter, is not on ARVs but is taking multivitamins to maintain his immune system. (The clinic gives us these and the medications for free through the fantastic program of Nymbani Children’s Home, funded by USAID.) The doctor asks Peter if he knows why he takes the vitamins and comes to the clinic, and Peter says no, though he has already been counseled many times about his HIV status. So we send him to the counselor to explain it all to him again. Once again I have to sympathize with him – HIV is a complicated disease, how can he really understand it?
Luckily, he comes out of the councilor’s office smiling and I could kiss the councilor in gratitude for doing such a hard job so well. She agrees to come to the center to test all the children again (we like to test them once a year) and provide counseling/education. However, she first has to request the extra supplies needed. She only gets about 100 testing kits a month and if she runs out before hand she can’t test anyone till she gets more.
As we leave we pass the line of mothers with children as young as infants and as old as 14 waiting to also see the doctor and get medications. I try and rejoice that they are at the clinic – after all HIV medications can help HIV+ individuals live a ‘normal’ life and these mothers and children are doing the right thing by being at the clinic. However, I feel that the reality where there is a need for a specific clinic for children with HIV is a sad reality. No one ‘should’ have HIV, which is after all completely preventable, but children ‘should’ especially be free from the virus.
Thinking about the way the world ‘should’ be often makes me want to blame someone for the way it actually is. In this case I can’t blame the doctors, children or mothers. The only blame I can point is at those of us who know how to prevent mother-child transmission and who haven’t done a good enough job at communicating it and making it possible (prevention requires good maternity healthcare facilities and a nutritious supplement to breast milk) in places like Kenya. It’s a harsh reality.
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