(Part 1/3) “She complained of pain in the back of her body. One day, she had come back home from school and started crying. “Mother, my body hurts. Please make it go away.” She had thrown her bag on the floor and struggled like a fish out of water. His father was not home at the time. He was faraway in Bhojpur, riding tractors. I immediately took her to the hospital nearby. I told the doctor about the pain I had seen in my daughter. “Please help, she cannot bear the pain. Please. I do not know what has happened? Please cure her now. ” The doctor said, “Your daughter is growing and when children grow they have body pain.” I told him that maybe it was the heavy books that she was carrying on her back that has caused it. I did not know. The doctor insisted that it was because she was growing. He just gave me a painkiller and we returned home. The pain did not go away. I stayed with her all night, praying to God, asking him to give me the pain and my daughter relief. The next morning I took her to another hospital. They did some tests and concluded that my daughter was “weak” and that she needed more blood in her veins. They said that it was not possible in the hospital. That night things got worse. My daughter started screaming in pain. She would cry, “I am dying, the pain is killing me. Mother, please do something. Please give me something.” I felt hopeless. I wished my husband was there. He could surely have done something. At dawn, I did not waste any time in getting an ambulance. I told the driver to drive fast and save my daughter. I hoped that the hospital in a bigger city would be able to find what was wrong with her and give her medicines that worked. In the ambulance, my daughter held my hand as she moaned in pain. We cried together. It was her pain and us inside the van as it sped. Around 9 in the morning, we reached the hospital in Butwal.

The doctor said that it was Tuberculosis. As I ran from one lab to another, my daughter cried in pain. I pleaded with the doctor again and again. “Please save her, please give her something. Can you not see her pain?” They took her to the ICU. Imagine a woman all by herself, with bags and two other children, one tied to her back, and a daughter, running around the hospital begging people to hurry, pleading people to have mercy. I just wanted my daughter to feel well and smile like she did before all of this happened. But she could not. She struggled in pain, twisted her body, clenched her teeth, and screamed. The injection would only work for 10-20 mins and the pain would be back when the effects tapered off. Stronger. 

I confronted the doctor and asked him bluntly. “Will you be able to cure her?” He was not confident and he said that I should take him to Kathmandu. I had never been to Kathmandu all my life. I went running to where the ambulance was and I handed him twelve thousand rupees and asked me to take him to Kathmandu. Seeing my daughter’s condition he agreed. You know money does everything. In no time we were on our way, my daughter still crying in pain and I in hopelessness. When we crossed Chitwan, my daughter became quiet for a moment. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “Mother, I think this is it for me. I think I will die soon. Can you please pour some water in my mouth?”

I poured a few cups of water even though I remember people saying not to give water to someone in too much pain. When we reached the hospital my daughter was barely breathing. They took her in and gave her oxygen. They asked me to take her to another hospital which I did. They started giving her all sorts of medicines and injections. There were tubes everywhere. After a few nights, I could see my daughter was recovering. She had asked for some food. And sometimes she was going to the toilet herself. The pain had subsided. We stayed in the hospital for two months. One day the doctors came and suggested that I return home. They said, “You have your family to look after also. You cannot stay here forever. Now that your daughter is recovering, take her some and look after her. You can bring her at the end of the month for a follow-up.” I listened to their advice and we all came home. Her father had also returned from Bhojpur. 

Once back home, I did not waste time. I took care of my daughter. Fed her good food and gave her medicines on time. Things were better and she was doing well. Finally, the ordeal was over. One night, her father and I were discussing the follow-up visit to Kathmandu when we heard my daughter scream. We ran to the room and we saw she was struggling in her bed. “Mother, it hurts again, please help me. Make it go away. Mother.” 

Phool Kumari Chaudhari, Jhingni 3, Dang
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