I first heard of him from our friend Dr. Barry, the Australian surgeon here in Arba Minch.
We were at our usual Sunday evening Bible study and he mentioned some of the cases
he was currently operating on. One in particular, caught my attention. A street boy had
been brought to the hospital. He was approx. 17 yrs old. He is one of those kids that
have no family, no relatives, and so he must survive any way he can. He has no home, so he simply finds a place out of the way where he can curl up and sleep at night. One
night while he was sleeping, a cruel, evil man doused him with gasoline and set him on
fire, then left him to die. I couldn't get that poor boy out of my mind, so I went the next
morning to try and find him in the hospital.
I walked through the ward, bed by bed until I saw him. He was curled up in a fetal position with his back to the room. This was Galeto.
He was horribly burned over 50% of his entire upper body-shoulders and both arms-and his chin had fused to his chest from scar tissue. He had already been in the hospital for 2 months. He has no family-no parents-no friends- no one has come to see him. He is all alone, and in great pain. There is no pain medication for him. When they change his bandages and cleanse his wounds-they used a dry sponge to scrape his raw, tender red wounds. Can you imagine his agony? Absolutely nothing is ever given to him to cope with the pain. He has no money to pay for medicine or bandages. Dr. Barry said he basically had given up living and wanted to die. Who can blame him?
So I knelt down alongside him and stroked his cheek, and told him that God loves him. He has seen your suffering and sent me to help you. Can I be your friend? He arched his eyebrows (that means yes in their culture), and with that I had a new friend!
By the time I met him, none of the nurses liked him because he soiled his bed all the time. Bedpans are available, but it is the family’s responsibility to help the patient use the pan and to clean it out. Galeto had no one to help him with this and so he would just lay in his own feces and urine all day long. All week long. I am not exaggerating.
The first time I began to help wash and cleanse his wounds, he had a soiled sheet that he had wrapped up in a pile hiding his feces. I know he was ashamed to be like that-but what could he do? No one would help him-not even the nurses. He was completely alone and naked. His only clothing was burned off him. So I bought him a couple of t-shirts and shorts and underwear and a pair of sandals. Then I got him up out of bed and started walking. I got someone to translate for me and told him that he must exercise his arms especially or he would lose the use of them. The scar tissue had already started to draw his arms up. After a few days of me coming he started to smile and seemed eager to get out of bed and walk. I knew the nurses and other patients didn’t like Galeto, mainly because he couldn’t use the bedpan and he stank. So I wondered how I could get them to rally around him-to start to like him?
I know that God planted this idea in my head to go buy some packages of cookies. I brought them to Galeto and suggested that he share them with the other men in the ward. I will never forget this image I have of him. A poor, wounded boy, wrapped only with a towel around his waist and wearing a tank top-his arms bandaged up, walking over to each man in a bed and offering them a cookie. Some of them looked confused at first, but then they all smiled at him (and me) and said thank you. Galeto was wearing one of those grins that stretch from ear to ear! It was probably the first time in his life that he was able to actually share with someone-to give a gift to someone else. It was a powerful moment. Since that day, things seemed to have changed in the ward. The men smiled at us- the nurses started calling out encouragement to Galeto when we walked. He was making some good progress.
I knew I was going to be leaving in a few weeks to go to America to visit my family. I was concerned about his continued recovery without me there. So I made arrangements with a restaurant to deliver him lunch every other day. And with another person to bring him boiled eggs every other day. I asked several of my friends to go visit him from time to time.
I was hopeful that with that support system surrounding him, he would continue to progress. And so, I left for America.
I walked through the ward, bed by bed until I saw him. He was curled up in a fetal position with his back to the room. This was Galeto.
He was horribly burned over 50% of his entire upper body-shoulders and both arms-and his chin had fused to his chest from scar tissue. He had already been in the hospital for 2 months. He has no family-no parents-no friends- no one has come to see him. He is all alone, and in great pain. There is no pain medication for him. When they change his bandages and cleanse his wounds-they used a dry sponge to scrape his raw, tender red wounds. Can you imagine his agony? Absolutely nothing is ever given to him to cope with the pain. He has no money to pay for medicine or bandages. Dr. Barry said he basically had given up living and wanted to die. Who can blame him?
So I knelt down alongside him and stroked his cheek, and told him that God loves him. He has seen your suffering and sent me to help you. Can I be your friend? He arched his eyebrows (that means yes in their culture), and with that I had a new friend!
By the time I met him, none of the nurses liked him because he soiled his bed all the time. Bedpans are available, but it is the family’s responsibility to help the patient use the pan and to clean it out. Galeto had no one to help him with this and so he would just lay in his own feces and urine all day long. All week long. I am not exaggerating.
The first time I began to help wash and cleanse his wounds, he had a soiled sheet that he had wrapped up in a pile hiding his feces. I know he was ashamed to be like that-but what could he do? No one would help him-not even the nurses. He was completely alone and naked. His only clothing was burned off him. So I bought him a couple of t-shirts and shorts and underwear and a pair of sandals. Then I got him up out of bed and started walking. I got someone to translate for me and told him that he must exercise his arms especially or he would lose the use of them. The scar tissue had already started to draw his arms up. After a few days of me coming he started to smile and seemed eager to get out of bed and walk. I knew the nurses and other patients didn’t like Galeto, mainly because he couldn’t use the bedpan and he stank. So I wondered how I could get them to rally around him-to start to like him?
I know that God planted this idea in my head to go buy some packages of cookies. I brought them to Galeto and suggested that he share them with the other men in the ward. I will never forget this image I have of him. A poor, wounded boy, wrapped only with a towel around his waist and wearing a tank top-his arms bandaged up, walking over to each man in a bed and offering them a cookie. Some of them looked confused at first, but then they all smiled at him (and me) and said thank you. Galeto was wearing one of those grins that stretch from ear to ear! It was probably the first time in his life that he was able to actually share with someone-to give a gift to someone else. It was a powerful moment. Since that day, things seemed to have changed in the ward. The men smiled at us- the nurses started calling out encouragement to Galeto when we walked. He was making some good progress.
I knew I was going to be leaving in a few weeks to go to America to visit my family. I was concerned about his continued recovery without me there. So I made arrangements with a restaurant to deliver him lunch every other day. And with another person to bring him boiled eggs every other day. I asked several of my friends to go visit him from time to time.
I was hopeful that with that support system surrounding him, he would continue to progress. And so, I left for America.
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