Today, I had a sobering encounter with the nature of mortality, an intense revelation of the duties of a doctor, and a glimpse of what I should expect as I work towards becoming a medical practitioner.
In my most recent post, you read about how our group had purchased two baby ducklings, both of which were unbelievably adorable. Sadly, one of them, a female duckling with black and yellow feathers the girls had decided to name "Mulan", died today in the morning. I was still asleep when it happened, but the ones who had observed her death, most of the female volunteers, said that she had passed away slowly, not suddenly.
I had been worried about that duckling since yesterday, as she had been experiencing worrying symptoms. I had noticed that she did not chirp and quack like her brother, but rather would let out weak coughs and squeaks. Her breathing always seemed irregular and weak, and she did not seem to have as much energy and appetite as I would have expected from a newborn duck. However, she seemed to improve later in the day, and I even started to think that she was all right. Unfortunately, I was wrong,and it seems to be that her condition worsened during the night, leading up to her death.
To tell you the truth, I wasn't just worried for Mulan's health, but for the health of all the volunteers and children here. Before this trip, I had learned that the province we are currently in is actually one of the first places Avian Influenza started up, and that birds here, especially poultry, were at serious risk for it, and consequently so were humans. I was worried that, somehow, Mulan had been infected with the disease, and that it would spread to the people in the school. The symptoms were eerily similar: low energy, lack of appetite, breathing irregularities. I couldn't be 100% sure, but the possibility was there. I warned my fellow volunteers about it, however few of them seemed to care about the risk. Rather, many of them seemed rather apathetic of her death, deciding not to properly bury her and instead cover her up with a few stones, which in this weather would probably lead to very rapid decomposition, which would attract a host of flies and animals to her grave, and generate a terrible stench. But I'm not going to judge them, for everyone reacts to death differently, regardless of who or what dies, and I should not be angry at them. However, there was still the threat of Avian Flu infecting us, so I needed to figure out if Mulan really was infected. There was only one way of doing that: checking the corpse.
My first reaction when taking Mulan's lifeless body out of her grave was a striking flash of grief and pain. I had grown attached to the little bird, and it pained me to see her lying there in the dirt. But after that initial feeling of sadness, I was surprised by how calm I was while handling her body, looking for signs of disease. I have dissected my fair share of animals in my life, such as squid and a pig heart, but never had I been so close to something that had just recently died, and I noticed that i was perfectly composed as I checked the body for bruised skin and swollen organs, a sign of Influenza. I do not know if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but regardless, I found no sign of disease on Mulan's body, and, satisfied, i placed her body back in the grave, added a few extra stones to protect her, and left her to rest. As Avian Flu did not kill her, I needed to think about what could have led to Mulan's death. My final diagnosis for cause of death: Most likely Mulan was born with underdeveloped lungs, a common issue in newborns in almost every species, even humans. Usually when this happens, the mother aids the child with breathing until they recover, but as Mulan was taken away soon after birth, she was unable to recover. Thus she suffered from gradual asphyxiation as her lungs could not gather enough oxygen , leading to generalized hypoxia, lack of oxygen in the body, and ultimately death at around 7:20 this morning.
This incident wasn't some sudden realization about the mortality of things: I have long accepted that death is a natural part of the life cycle, necessary for the continuation of nature, the world, and the universe. Everything at some point comes to an end, and it is dangerous to believe otherwise.What this event really did to me was reveal the true nature of what doctors must experience. Doctors live in order to maintain life and protect it, but it is impossible to work alongside life and not come into contact with death. Life and death go along the same road, side by side, and doctors walk right between them. A doctor has the power to save lives, but sometimes a life is impossible to save, and he or she must accept that there is nothing they can do but lessen the suffering. But of course, they continue to work hard, researching new methods and cures, in order to assure that they can save the next one. It is vital that doctors are capable of accepting death, because they sometimes encounter it daily. This experience did not drive me away from my dreams of becoming a doctor, but rather, reinforced them, as I strive to assure that people can live long, happy and productive lives, and not have those lives be cut short.
I'm sorry about the rather dark nature of this post, but i needed to say something, and now that I have said it, I feel relieved.
Thank you all for taking the time to read this. It fills my heart with joy knowing that people back home are supporting me.
Sincerely,
Diego Molina
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