Two women I don’t recognize are sitting outside our lodging when I first wake up. I assume they live or work here until several hours later, when the EMTs start scrambling and saying we have our first patient. The excitement is palpable.
The women are taken inside to the sofa in the living room. Jacquie and Dr. Bill Fridinger follow. The rest of us are told to wait outside for the time being.
A few minutes pass. Jacquie emerges from the building. “EMTs, I want you to hear what tuberculosis sounds like. This woman has volunteered to be a learning case.” The EMTs rush inside with their stethoscopes at hand. I remain outside, out of the way.
I am writing my senior thesis at Vassar about treating drug-resistant tuberculosis in developing countries. I know how many people die from perfectly treatable tuberculosis because they do not have access to anti-TB drugs, which are very cost-effective.
When I come inside, the woman is laying on the couch, rebuttoning her dress. The EMTs have dispersed. I find Dr. Fridinger outside.
“That woman has HIV and TB,” he says. “She’d be in an intensive care unit in the United States. She walked here from three towns over. The people here are tough.”
