‘Absolute Bedlam and Utter Chaos’

Excerpts from the logs and prayers of Carol Forrest:

Log entry, Dec. 14, 1992--I’m in Mogadishu, Somalia, and will be living here for the next six months. It’s been difficult for me so far. Yesterday we lost a 3-year-old who had been shot in the head. Her brains were hanging out and she was in a coma. She was such a beautiful little girl. Today we lost a little boy who was brought in dead on arrival. . . .

I also saw my first marasmus case today, which is starvation. It was a woman who was found at the side of the road. She was brought in unconscious and at first we thought she was a child. After she received . . . a concentrated form of sugar water, she perked right up. It was so sad to see someone so thin and I think she has tuberculosis as well. . . .

It’s also frustrating to me because I came to do trauma and I’ve been asked to run the emergency room and coordinate with surgery. But it’s interesting to see so many different trauma cases.

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Log entry, Dec. 20, 1992--Wow. What a rough day. I can’t begin to describe to you how I’m feeling. We had so many casualties today and no doctor was there to take care of them. Just me.

There were two men with abdominal eviscerations (intestines hanging out). One man had two gunshot wounds to the side which tunneled superficially yet who knows where. He needed a laparotomy. Two gunshot wounds to the left femur. One to the left humerus. One to the right hand. Multiple cases of shrapnel. Other gunshot wounds to the abdomen. Two serious car accidents. Another man had half of his feet blown off.

The list goes on and on and where were the doctors during all of this? Good question. I did my best to triage. I left the less serious and tried to manage the more serious. It is absolute bedlam and utter chaos.

No one listens to you and what you ask them to do. There are literally tens of family members that accompany each patient and the hot, sweaty, fly-culling rooms, blood-smelling rooms are filled with hot, sweaty, smelly people. And because of the language barrier you just can’t get them to leave.

I’m having difficulty communicating and it’s so absolutely frustrating. I have to ask people several times to get them to move. I yell, “IV!” “IV!” “IV!” till I’m blue in the face and then they use a 20 gauge which is a very small needle when you need a 16 gauge hose when people are bleeding out.

I really need the Lord’s help to establish some sort of system. If people were only motivated to work, if there were teams and each doctor had his own room to manage, the doctors would work. If I didn’t have to run to the storeroom each time I needed a pair of gloves or Vaseline. If. If. If. I’m frustrated and exhausted. I see death on a daily basis, needless death, because of turf wars. When will man put down his arms and follow the Savior’s commandment to love one another?