i am just alida

I have been listening to a song about a woman named esther who goes to africa, falls in love with it, but writes home asking friends and family to pray, help. The lyrics strike a cord as they say
"esther has 2.4 million children, she writes and asks us to pray and help any way we can, because 'i am just esther' "

in many ways i feel like i have 150 million to take care of here in nigeria. i have been spending alot of time on the wards this week, observing how things are run, how treatment is administered, how the care is given. we have absolutely no clue how good we have it in canada, because i NEVER pause to think if the patient can afford the 2x2 gauze or the tylenol, i just give it. many patients here cannot afford pain medicine, antibiotics or feeding tubes. a patient who has had a stroke is agitated and possibly in pain but the family has not bought pain medicine. the guy with tetanus can't swallow, but the family can't afford an nasogastric tube so he gets IV fluids sometimes. i would love to pay for all their medications and needs, but i don't have that much money and that isn't necessarily going to do any good. but it still makes me want to bang my head against the wall. watching people suffer is not easy!
i did break down yesterday though. i was in the OR to see a surgery when a family rushed in to have Dr. Scott check their child. The boy was unconcious and not breathing regularily. Dr. Scott gave him some adrenaline and then had to cut open his arm to get an IV. They boy stabilized a little bit and was taken to the pediatric ward. I went to check on him a few hours later and the boy had died about 15 minutes earlier. I have never seen a dead child, so it was a bit of a shock. I felt empty and hollow and I thought I should be crying my eyes out, but strangely I had few emotions at the time. The father looked like I felt inside. He didn't seem to know what to do. The bill for inserting the IV and all the medications came to almost 6000 naira ($45). This man was dressed in pretty raggedy clothes and had empty pockets. I told him I would pay for the bill that he must promise me that if his other child becomes ill, he must go to the doctor right away.
When I went to bed that night, the tears for Benjamin Asase came, but I know there are millions of more Benjamin's in Africa. How I am supposed to help them all? Am I supposed to help them all? Am I doing anything significant here? I am just Alida...