Our work comes from story. There is the obvious; the detective work of collating symptom and pattern, of differentiating disease in hopes for an accurate cure. Just pick one out of the fetid stew. Dengue? Malaria? Perhaps a little TB and Amebiasis? But, this is the easy task; calculated and objective.
Challenge comes, not in the mark of disease, but in the tale of their lives. . . . Abuse. Abduction. Neglect. Like an illness, the ethos of the caste system and social prejudice is smeared everywhere here.
This is the bitter pill we must swallow, the work of reconciling their story with our own. It can seem at times that some of the world must be resigned, like their ancestors, to survive with humiliation and forbearance as their constant companions. For those of us with privilege that may make us feel guilty; or perhaps just defeated that the problem has no cure.
But we have a choice.
Perhaps we could just be curious and present for another’s story. Perhaps that is good care. Perhaps, even, it is part of the cure.
What is her story?