But things only got worse. In the middle of the week, they then moved to Santiago Rodriguez which is where he was born. His stomach was swelling and he wasn't eating or going to the bathroom. I called everyday to check on him but it got harder each time. I tried watching out for her 5 other kids left here with the grandfather and praying hard for the little man. I even made the decision to go visit that Thursday but when I called, she told me they were filling out the paperwork to get sent to Santiago... Not good. He went into intensive care and his parents were left outside to sleep in their truck..
Last Saturday I then get a phone call from another community member and am told that he needs blood and that I need to put a Facebook status up asking for someone to donate. I was confused but did it. It turns out, people don't really donate blood in this country. There are blood banks but you have to bring a person to donate in order to receive blood. Even with money, it's difficult. I'm a mess. So I called Maria. I have type O+ and I can donate to whatever blood type...right? But the big guy that runs PC slams the door in my face. Volunteers aren't allowed to donate. My head spun. Sitting here in my campo, knowing in my heart I could do something to save him and then being told I can't? That feeling is my worst enemy.
Some people moved. Felix was on the phone all day with hospitals trying to find blood. Apparently a pint in the capital and one in Mao were surfaced. But the little boys dad had to go and get it. Later I hear that he was already given two with no results... At this point, I still didn't know what he had (has-and still don't).
I called Ann in tears. Asked her to forgive me but to ask why we weren't allowed to donate. Or what I could do from here. There had to be something. She asked for the father's number and said she'd call to see what she or her husband could do. He said that at that moment, they had what they needed. He had gotten the blood from the capital and the other pint from Mao was to be delivered the next morning. We would just have to wait.
It was a week and a half from Hell. School started, we had met the president and been given tons of work to do, and I had Escojo Enseñar Conference planning. And my heart wasn't in any of it. Anywhere I went, he was all people talked about. And the tears just never seemed to run my body dry.
They're saying he's better. He sat up and called for his dad one night. The next day he was playing and laughing. And he's now out of intensive care. But they're still running tests. It seems that he has something, some sort of illness but from what I gather, they still don't know what it is... Communication here is difficult.
He's better, but he's not home yet. So many prayers have been sent for him and I want to thank all those back home for that. But don't stop just yet. Not until we celebrate and gather around the entrance of my campo as he arrives. I promise to let you all know as soon as that happens.
This little guy is his twin brother but this is just how absolutely adorable they are:
Their names are Ángel Miguel and Ángel Manuel. Two angels that we need here in Mariano Cestero because without one, an absolute void is left in his place.
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