The Child

Last night sucked. We had a mass casuallty situation. A vehicle borne IED was detonated in a public place killing several and injuring eight people including a 6 year old boy, all of them afghanis. The first patient to go to the OR was a 65yo male who had shrapnel wounds in is abdomen, chest and neck. We explored his abdomen to look for any wounds, then opened his cardiac sac to make sure the heart wasn't bleeding. We then explored his neck to repair any injuries there. We then washed and closed the 30 open wounds that were made when the glass from the IED shredded his body. We finished that, then i when back to the ICU where the other surgeon was putting a chest tube in the 6yo boy. Apparently, a fragment ripped through his chest and out through his spine. When this occured, the lung on that side collapsed and simultaneously the child fell to the ground unable to walk, as the glass severed his spinal cord. Laying helpless on the ground and unable to take a deep breath to yell for help, the child rapidly started to suffocate. By the time the father who was not far away got to his boy, the lack of oxygen to the brain cased the brain to start swelling resulting in irreparable brain damage.
The father scooped the child up (the child dripping in blood from his injury) and carried him to the casualty collection point, all the while the child still could not breathe. It wasn't until the chest tube was placed at our ER that the child could then breathe. But by that point the damage was already done. When I got out of the OR to the ICU, the father was sitting by his sons bed, his traditional clothing soaked in his sons blood. The Father looked bewildered, sitting in the middle of the ICU with 5 other bleeding and burned patients in the other beds, and American ICU and ER nurses quickly and maticulously attending to the rapidly changing status of their new patients.
I walked over to the young boy with my scub cap, and OR attire still on. I placed my hand on his little foot and bowed my head and prayed. Fighting back tears, and thinking of my own son, I prayed that this was in God's hands and that he would care for this little child. I prayed that the family could recover from such a devastating loss, of which the father at this point clearly had no idea what was in store for the child. And I prayed for my family; to keep them safe. And I prayed that God would let me recover from seeing mankind's cruelty to one another.
As I opened my eyes, the child's father looked up at me and slightly bowed his head, to which I returned the gesture.
I then turned and walked over to my patient, made sure the the ventilator settings were correct and then left the room.
I still don't understand how mankind can be so cruel and thoughtless. My only comfort is in knowing that God cares for that kid and when he dies in a week or two after he leaves the care of an American hospital, that God will welcome him to Glory.

Amen