Continued from here.
Arexy and the baby arrived in the San Pedro Sula public hospital yesterday and he was examined by a doctor pretty quickly. The doctor assured her that the baby's condition was not 'muy grave' (very serious or grave). That was a huge relief for her − and for us, too.
On the way home from the hospital earlier in the afternoon, I turned to El Jefe and said, "I know that I should try to be positive, to hope for the best...." Wahhhh − I burst into tears. "....but I just can't!" J said, "I know. I can't either. They've done something to that baby and that's why they sent him away."
I lamented for the 100th time that Arexy did not call us for help when the baby was in trouble and the hospital turned them away or that I couldn't convince her to move the baby out of the hospital sooner. I cried again thinking of what it must be like to think that you or your child are not worthy of decent medical care, that private hospitals are "for persons of a higher level, not for me", to be so beaten down by the caste system that you don't fight for your child.
I tried to call Arexy about 6 p.m. but got no answer. I tried not to even think about what that might mean. I called my doctor again to see if he had talked to the baby's doctor. The doctor had not returned his call. J called Arexy about 8 p.m. and got the full report. She was quite animated. She said the baby was getting so much more attention than he did at Hospital Atlántida. The nurses checked him frequently, and the doctor came around a few times, too. She said it was cleaner and nicer than Hospital Atlántida in La Ceiba.
She said that the hospital even had a place for parents to stay and that they gave her food. They also treated her much better than they had in La Ceiba. But she stays with the baby instead of using the sleeping facilities.
She said that the baby had had a tube in his mouth to his stomach but that not much of anything had been draining. It turns out that the tube was not inserted properly in La Ceiba and as soon as the doctor in San Pedro inserted the tube, the baby started gushing blackish liquid. That must have been really frightening, but it must have been a good thing to get that stuff out of him. Overall, we were much encouraged compared to the horrible thoughts we had had earlier in the day.
But - once again, a but. Always a but. Today she was told by the doctor that the surgery was done improperly by Dr. Azcona in La Ceiba and that they will have to do surgery to repair his intestine tomorrow. So, you see that I was right. They had harmed the baby and didn't have the decency to tell his mother. I guess whichever doctor ordered that he be sent to San Pedro may have saved his life. But I wonder if it needed to take 10 days from the day of the surgery to know that something was wrong.
We'll call her around noon and I promise to report back. Please pray for the baby.
Next: Surgery Day, not
Welcome to my Blogicito — 
