Notes on Death and Grief

Yesterday Bigui’s 7 yo son died of heart failure related complications of Sickle Cell Disease. Bigui is a middle aged guy probably my dad’s age I would guess, and he’s the in charge clinical officer at Nyahuka Health Center here in town which means he’s the most senior authority overseeing the place. He has a good sense of humor, is really kind and seems to have a sense of integrity too.

Stewart was really sick all weekend and died mid-morning on Monday. Jennifer had seen him in the morning before coming to the ward for rounds and told me when I asked how he was doing that “he can’t get much worse without dying.” After we were doing seeing the inpatients on the ward I looked out the windows in the doors to the ward and noticed there were a lot of people gathered around where Bigui stays (some staff have housing on the grounds of the Health Center). I had my suspicions and asked one of the nurses why all of the people were gathered outside and she told me she had just heard that Stewart had died. She told Jennifer who dropped everything and went across the yard. I needed to make sure that nobody walked off with all of the medicine on the cart, so I went to put it away. When I finished I went and stood outside of the ward, across the yard from Bigui’s place. I was conscious of the thoughts re. my own cultural norms/expectations going through my head about what to do/not to do at this point in time:
- I don’t know Bigui very well, I’ve only been here 7 weeks or so, and I didn’t know Stewart at all…
- Who wants a white girl that doesn’t know what to do hanging around anyways making things more awkward than they already are…
- I want to give Bigui and his family space to grieve without having to entertain people that don’t know what to do/say who are hanging around
- What would I do in the States? In the States everyone except close family and friends steps back when someone dies, even in hospital culture only the staff involved in the patient’s care are involved…everyone says it’s to give the close family and friends space but I think it’s really more about avoiding the look/smell/emotions/thoughts/fears/words of death, at least it is sometimes for me.
- But when I have been close to death, touching it, holding it, smelling it, thinking about it, talking about it, it has been a priviledge.
- I wonder what they do here? All of these people are gathering around the front door, and he’s not been dead more than an hour or two max. I wonder if this is welcomed by Bigui and his family or not. Is this what everyone does? Are they gawking? Is this their way of loving?
- If I go over what do I do, what do I say? Do I go inside or stay outside? Do I say anything? Do I do anything? Do women do something different than men? Can I cry or should I not?

So for a time I remained at a distance and watched and wondered.

Then Jennifer beckoned me over and we went in and sat. That's what people do here, they sit. We sat in a room on benches, and Bigui sat on a bench next to a mattress on the floor that had his dead son lying on it, covered in light blue flower print sheet. The first thing Bigui said when I arrived was "I'm stable. I'm firm. God has helped me to be firm." He went on to talk about his son, how sick he had become so quickly. How when he was well he had learned to play football (soccer) and cope with his sickle cell disease very well. His eyes were pink and glassy with tears but he never shed one that I saw. Ammon, the other clinical officer sat down next to him and while Bigui spoke of his son began to shed his tears, with his head down and only a few sniffles gave the tears away. It seems that similar to the States, men here are not supposed to cry. But Ammon's kind heart and sweet spirit were shown through his tears. Other nurses, midwives, sweepers, slashers, assistants of all kinds gathered around.

Another thing Bigui said was that "we had the medicine, we had the man power, but God, He is the commander in chief. I did not think it was a good idea to take my son, but God, He had another idea. I know that you all did not want my son to die and I thank you for all of your work and assistance, we had everything that we needed, but God took him. He had another plan."

More another time...