Scared to Death

March 4, 2019

Scared to Death

The following occurred on December 26^th, 2018.

I was scared – straight scared. But there wasn’t time to be scared or time to process or time in general. Action. Decision. There wasn’t time for anything else and that became apparent all too quickly – a life was on the line.

I’ve prided myself on my desire to be thrown into the deep-end. A passion to be constantly challenged living far outside my comfort zone. I thrive when challenged and when the pressure is on. I live for the challenge and the growth that comes through it. However, most of the time I have been able to control the challenges. Not this time.

For a brief background, I live and work for/with/alongside Richard and Caroline Wakefield while my Moringa company gets going. I’m helping develop their vegetable expansion as they move from 500kgs per week to potentially 4-8 tons per week. Anyway, in December, Richard’s son was visiting. Fresh out of University and we thought it’d be a good experience for Devon to join me in my trip to Namuno. It’s more remote and isolated and a very unique cultural experience. Plus, I’m well connected in Namuno and know it almost inside and out (however, there is always something new to learn!).

Dev is allergic to peanuts. Namuno is a massive peanut producing region. See where this could be going don’t you? When Dev first says he’s allergic to peanuts I inquire about how severe his allergy is – some people can eat products processed in peanut facilities all the way to some people who cant even have a crumb on their desk. He brushes off the question as I’m sure he has done so often. I’m left thinking, “okay allergic, but not too deadly”. Silly thought Daniel. Silly thought.

We get to Namuno and spend the day working on my farm. We’re marking lines and spacing for the thousands of trees about to be transplanted. We finish our walk and walk the 6km back to town. Exhausted, we stop at a restaurant for a well earned coke and some French fries with eggs. We double check that they haven’t used any peanuts in anything they’ve cooked today and that the oil is pure vegetable oil and also does not contain any peanuts. So far so good.

We spend the afternoon walking him around town, playing with the neighbourhood hooligans, fetching some water from the well, and end back at Eusebia’s house where I stay when I crash in Namuno. We sit down for dinner and go through the check-list again – making sure none of the pots/pans have had any peanut products today, inquiring about the last time peanuts were used in a dish, and making sure the oil is pure soy oil without peanuts. Everything checks out. Dev takes one bite and says “hmm something’s not right”. Maybe it was me being naive or my arrogance or what have you, but we double checked everything. He’s just overreacting is what I’m thinking. It’s in his head. I eat a few bits and cant taste a single peanut.

I eat a few more bits and still don’t taste any peanuts. It’s been 5 minutes and he’s on the phone with Richard. He’s convinced he’s having an allergic reaction. He’s had 7 reactions before so he knows what they’re like. I go to Eusebia and check one more time asking a plethora of questions trying to determine if there is any chance of peanuts in the meal. 10 minutes have passed and he’s forcing himself to throw-up. At this point, I’m still doubting. There’s absolutely no proof of any peanuts in the meal (looking back, LOL).

It’s been 10 minutes and he’s still convinced it’s a reaction. My worry starts to set in. Please don’t be a reaction. Please don’t be a reaction. Not here. Not now. Not in the middle of nowhere Mozambique – in the province they refer to as “the end of the world”. Where the hospital currently only has one doctor for the district of 200,000 people. Please don’t be an allergic reaction. He has some over the counter allergy medication with him. He hangs up the phone and we go inside so he can take some medication and I can do a full check of his body for any physical signs of an allergic reaction. Up to this point, there were no signs we could see, just his gut-feeling.

Sure enough, there’s swelling under his eyes. In my head it goes something like OH SHIT. But there 

isn’t time to freak out. It’s confirmed. He’s having an allergic reaction. Namuno is not the place to have a severe allergic reaction. Heck, 90% of Mozambique is not a place to have a severe allergic reaction. I know I can’t freak out. Any doubt I have must be locked away. If Dev senses one ounce of doubt it will only increase his own fear and induce shock. “Get your shirt on, we’re going to the hospital”.

Fortunately Eusebia is a nurse at the district hospital. I tell her that it’s confirmed an allergic reaction and she sees the swelling. I ask if she’s ever dealt with allergic reactions at the hospital before and she responds that there was one case a few years ago. I ask how severe and she says it was mild. The person would probably not have died without treatment – but she confirms the hospital has a treatment for allergic reactions.

Now, Dev doesn’t speak Portuguese which allows me to bluff at times with the translation. On our walk to the hospital (it’s a short 500 meters away), I translate to Dev and tell him the hospital has dealt with a severe allergic reaction and they have the treatment. I call Rich and Caro and tell them Dev has signs of an allergic reaction and we’re heading to the Hospital. They’re getting in their car and on their way – they live in Montepuez, a 60km dirt road away. Travel time roughly 90 minutes. I can hear his breathing worsening. He’s beginning to sweat. We arrive and the nurse on night duty wants to go through the routine of checking Dev in and registering him. Eusebia and I let him know there isn’t time to register, it’s time to administer medicine. By the time we reach the hospital it’s probably been about 20 minutes.

The nurse is fumbling with what to do. There isn’t time to fumble. I take charge and have him show me the medicine the hospital has. He says there’s two options so I tell him to give me both. Dev’s breathing is worsening. His hair is drenched in sweat. He’s exhausted and just asked if he could lie down on the floor. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT. Of course, the nurse has never dealt with an allergic reaction and barely understands what’s going on. We’ve got the two medications. They’re pre-packaged in single doses. Finally, good news. I don’t have to worry about determining the medications dosage.

We’re trying to get a-hold of Dev’s mom in South Africa who would know more about which medication we should issue. Time is not our friend. I do a quick google search and confirm that both medications are for allergic reactions. The nurse has absolutely no idea which one to use. While Dev is trying to ask his mom, I’m talking to the nurse and Eusebia to find out about the doctor in Namuno and the ambulance. But of course, the ambulance is out of gas because the Hospital ran out of funds to buy gas. The gas station is also closed. I tell the nurse to grab the injection kit.

The top half of Dev’s shirt is soaked in sweat. His eyelids are drooping. I pick a vile and tell the nurse to inject it. He opens the kit (so grateful the hospital has individual kits with clean and sterile needles – PHEW). He starts putting on gloves and as he’s putting a glove on his right hand he rips it and casually grabs a new glove. I start wishing that I had the medical knowledge to stick a needle in a vein – if I did, I’d take over and just get it done. The nurse figures out how to put on a new glove without ripping it and uses the ripped glove to tie Dev’s upper arm to see the veins better.

Throughout this entire exchange, I’m doing everything I can to keep Dev awake and reassured that everything is going well. He can barely focus. I tell him the nurse is putting on gloves (and conveniently leave out the fact that the nurse ripped the glove and is wasting time putting on a new one). I’ve contacted the doctor, woken him up, and he is on his way. I’m keeping Rich/Caro and Dev’s mom in SA appraised of what we’re doing. I’m keeping my voice as calm as possible. The second my voice sounds like something is wrong, it will only further induce shock. Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast.

Alright, the nurse is finally attempting to put the needle in. Finally. Eusebia shouts at the nurse (and at this point I’m wishing Eusebia had just put on gloves herself to get the job done). HE MISSED THE VEIN. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT. (In Portuguese and a calm yet stern voice) “Mano, this man is about to die. If you do not administer this vial in the next 5 minutes he will die. You are going to remove you’re missed shot and administer the needle/vial through the vein in his hand, and now”.

“Dev hold on there, we just need to make sure that we have the needle in the vein. The nurse wasn’t able to find the vein in your arm so he’s putting it in to your hand. It’s all going smoothly. Just keep breathing, you’re doing great. And if you can, try to talk to me so I know you’re now asleep”. Dev’s entire shirt is soaked. The nurse gets the needle in and injects the vial. Medicine administered. Calling Rich and Caro to update – no answer. Strange, but I know the service is spotty on the road. Call Dev’s mom and update her. Call the doctor and find out when he’s getting here.

Dev is beyond exhausted and we take him to a bed to lie down. Breathing is faint. His body is clearly going through shock. He has body-shivers as he is lying down. Breathing still faint. SHIT SHOULD WE ADMINISTER BOTH??? Sweating stops. Breathing still faint. Rich and Caro still aren’t answering their phone. Could they have rolled their car? I know they’d be driving like bats out of hell. Okay, check the time – if I don’t hear from them within 15 minutes something with them is now also wrong. Send a WhatsApp message (WhatsApp allows you to see when a message is delivered and read). Message is not delivered (meaning they are outside service).

Dev is about to fall asleep and I’m doing everything I can to calmly keep him awake. Pulse is racing still. Breathing is a little better, not normal but better. Phew – okay – he’s not going to die on me. Huge relief. Phew phew phew. Rich and Caro answer the phone (PHEW). They’re entering Namuno now. They arrive to the hospital. Dev has stopped shivering but he is still exhausted beyond belief. The doctor shows up and takes us to a private room with better lighting (the one featured in the photo).

He begins taking vitals as I fill him in on what’s happened. After telling him which medication we issued, he said it’s an okay choice but not the best choice and we’ll be injecting the other medication as well straight into Dev’s rear. He has the nurse prepare the other medication while he begins writing up a report. He injects the medication. He says he’d like to have Dev stay the night to monitor him. Rich/Caro ask if we could leave and go back to Montepuez (I’m translating between the doctor and Rich/Caro/Dev). He says we’ll monitor vitals for the next hour and then if his shock has passed and he’s stable we can go home. I don’t even really care at this point. I’m in relief that he’s alive. I’m in relief that Rich/Caro didn’t flip in their truck. His vitals are stable and the doctor lets us go home.  Well this’ll be a story for the books. Maybe I should get more first-aid training (I have been wilderness first-aid certified and alongside with my scouting background I was relatively prepared for this kind of situation).

Generally, I like to control the situations where I’m thrown outside my comfort zone. Not this time – jokes on me. This is the first time the fate of someone’s life has been in my hands. It’s a scary thing. Looking back, I’m glad I’ve had the experience. If it happened again, I’d be even more ready – coach put me in. I’ve had various experiences in my life that prepared me for this moment; when I was 17 I coordinated an emergency evacuation of 400 people from a remote campsite due to a flood – but that’s another incredible story for another time. When the pressure is on, I’m that guy you give the bat.

I’m still processing what it was like to literally have the fate of a life in my hands. I’m thankful Dev handled everything like a champ and remained calm throughout the entire ordeal. I’m thankful for all of the pressure related experiences and medical training I’ve received that allowed me to act under the circumstances. And Dev, if you’re reading this just know it really was that close. Less than 5 minutes and I would’ve been asking for a breathing guard. I don’t know if you realized all of the bloody mistakes the nurse made, I tried to play it off.  

With all my heart,

Daniel

P.S. Thank you for reading all the way to the end! Expect a few more soon to make up for the past couple months.