'She's ready for surgery!", exclaimed Clara, my nurse, trying to overcome the deafening roar of the Alpha XH-1 helicopter that had just landed nearby our clinic to deliver more clinical aid equipment. With great exhaustion from a difficult day of cataract surgeries, she continued, "She's got a degree of nuclear cataracts in both eyes! Lloyd, she's our last patient here!"
"OK!", I shouted loudly in response. I didn't even bother looking at the patient. I could feel that I was becoming insensitive and impatient. I was giving into my tiredness. It's the path that I often give into when I'm confronted by it. Despite my exhaustion and diminishing concentration, I turned around to see who the next patient was, for the sake of respect.
I could feel my impatience trying to dominate my life, just like how the war was dominating Liberia. But I didn't want my impatience to affect others, not like how the Liberian war affected Sierra Leone.
"We need to perform this surgery swiftly and efficiently! We don't have much time on our side, and we need to get transferred to Masingbi as soon as possible! We're behind schedule, the helicopter has arrived, and there must be at least a hundred Sierra Leoneans waiting for our aid over there!"
It's becoming almost impossible to bear. Another poor Sierra Leonean woman with cataracts disease in both eyes. These people, their eye sights are blocked by a blurry white cover which harmlessly rests behind the iris and the pupil of the eye, yet causes extreme limitations in their lives and their families. It's like a lifeless parasite. It gradually and passively sucks the life out of people as they begin to struggle to live without sight. Blindness. As I prepared and set up the surgery, the helicopter's roaring...