There are so many different ways I could attempt to describe this man, but the words fail me because it was all so intense. His eyes were downcast, his face pale, his hair disheveled. His posture, although standing, was fetal - as if he was sheltering what little was left of his shredded spirit. He looked like a man who was having the worst day of his life. I was puzzled by his demeanor, but at the same time figured it wasn´t so out of place. I was at a hospital, after all. All sorts of bad things happen here. I try to dissimulate my curiosity and hope desperately that I am succeeding. I surreptitiously take one more look at him and I see he is holding something in his hand. Suddenly, I know.
Compassion envelops me as I figure out that this 30-something year old man has just been diagnosed with Leprosy. What he holds in his hand is the first of his 12-month supply of Multi-Drug Therapy (MDT). He walks uncertainly to the lady at the counter and hands her a slip of paper. She takes it, turns around and goes to the back of the store to collect the necessary medications; 4 boxes of Complex B, 3 small bottles of Prednisone pills and one injectable med I don´t recognize. I discreetly observe the man as she brings the items to the counter, one after another. She grabs for a bag and it can barely hold it all. I can see his fingers twitching close to his back pocket. It is obvious he is doing some quick mental math, trying to figure out how much all this will cost him. I can't help but feel even more empathy for him as I see the combination of his grief and shock over his new diagnosis merging with the desperateness of how much the overflowing bag of medications are going to cost him.
"Cuánto me alcanza?" (How much is it?) He asks the Pharmacy Lady. His voice is barely louder than a whisper.
I know the answer (even though he doesnt yet) and I eagerly keep my eyes and ears on the drama playing itself out before me. I want to hear her say it and I want to see his reaction to it.
"Nada. Alguien ya pagó por ti." (Nothing. Someone else already paid for you)
He looks up at the lady, clearly shocked. Both are silent for what seems like a long time, his gaze never leaving hers. He takes his little bag and leaves the store in the same manner in which he entered.
End of story.
Oh, but it isn´t.
Every 2 minutes a person is diagnosed with Leprosy in the entire world. That means that on any given day there are approximately 720 new cases of Leprosy. 720 people´s lives are forever changed: poor people, rich people, important people, humble people, ordinary-everyday people, etc. I would dare to guess that most of these people´s experiences aren't too different from this young man´s: shock, confusion, loneliness, fear…
If you´ve clicked on the link at the beginning of this entry, or if you know me personally, you know that I/my husband work at a hospital which specializes in helping people diagnosed with Leprosy. It´s a mission hospital which aims to minister physically, spiritually and emotionally to this special group of people. It gives me no pleasure at all to see the inner (and outer) turmoil these people go through. But it fills my heart with pride and a sense of belonging that I am a part of the answer the Pharmacy Lady gave to the young man. "Someone already paid for you…"
"Paying" is not only done monetarily in the form of bills, coins and bank transfers. It is also accomplished when your heart reaches out to those in need. When you see the fear, desolateness and need of another human and you want to help. How? You can help by praying. You can open the doors of your house to those who feel as though they have no where else to go. You can invite them to participate in community programs. You can visit them. You can touch them… because sometimes no one else dares to go near them.
And on a personal note… And closer to home…
Remember.
Never forget.
Someone´s already paid for YOU!
