“Brother, Father, Mister, Doctor!” - From a Missionary Surgeon in the Philippines

Abstract

The children’s faces lit up the darkness of the night. I had come with Bong, a Filipino, to treat a young child with a cough and high fever. The girl was sat with her 3 young sisters on a bench outside their ‘house’, aflimsy wooden shack which was their home. “Brother James”, “Father James”, “Mister James”, “Doctor James” they chimed simultaneously jumping up and down with excitement. “Just call me James" I responded in the local dialect, “much easier". After speaking to the mother and examining the child we prescribed the  appropriate antibiotics. “Keep it in the fridge" I advised the mother. Bong coughed, trying to give me a subtle hint. I looked at Bong and he smiled at me through the candlelight. The light bulb came on in my mind “of course, the candles...these houses d o n 't have electricity never mind a fridge”, I spoke to the mother once more “OK, we will come back every day to administer the medicine". As we snaked our way back home through the coconut trees, tired but content, my steps made lighter by the gleeful voices of the children ringing in my ears, the days of ward rounds, white cell counts and chest x rays seemed but a distant memory...