The internal medicine unit at Hôpital Bon Sauveur de Cange is abuzz with activity. Nurses, dressed in impeccable white, move quickly from patient to patient, their presence bringing comfort and reassurance. One of them gently supports a man whose face is partly covered by a bandage. He is weak, his movements slow, and the nurse carefully adjusts the sheets on his bed, making sure he is comfortable. The steady beeping of heart monitors fills the air, while low voices whisper words of encouragement to the patients surrounded by their loved ones. Some have brought food, others are content to sit in silence, simply offering their company.
At the other end of the room, in a quieter corner, we meet Romène. Lying alone for a while, her voice is soft, almost a whisper. “My daughter went out for a moment,” she explains with restraint. Romène is a farmer, used to the rhythm of the fields, where she grows corn, beans and yams. Her life was simple, until the day everything turned upside down.
It began with a simple fever. “I thought it would pass,” she says, her eyes lost in the distance as she recalls the first signs of her illness. She carried on with her daily activities, unaware that something far more serious was afoot. As the days passed, her condition gradually worsened. Her chest began to swell, and one morning Romène began coughing up blood. “That’s when I really started to get scared,” she admits in a trembling voice. Her body grew weaker and weaker, and the swelling on her chest eventually spread to other parts of her body.
Romène doesn’t remember arriving at the hospital. It was her daughter who told her how, after collapsing, she was rushed to Hôpital Bon Sauveur de Cange, where doctors worked to stabilize her. From there, she was transferred to the internal medicine unit, where she has remained for the last two months.
Hospital Bon Sauveur de Cange is the very first healthcare facility established by Zanmi Lasante. The hospital is a leader in the treatment of chronic diseases, such as diabetes, kidney failure and heart disease, which are often neglected in low-resource regions. The hospital offers long-term care for patients suffering from conditions that require regular monitoring and ongoing management. It was in this specialized care environment that Romène found a lifeline.
“I felt so bad that I thought I wouldn’t survive it…. I thought I was going to die,” Romène confides, her voice barely a whisper. Despite the seriousness of her illness, she says she is grateful for the care she received. The nurses and doctors, she says, treated her as if she were part of their own family. “I was well looked after,” she adds, with a flicker of a smile.
Beneath this gratitude, however, lies a deep concern. Before falling ill, Romène had planted her beans in July. Others tend her fields in her absence, but she doesn’t really know how her crops are faring. “I don’t know if my crops are still alive,” she admits, her face clouded with worry.
His illness, she fears, has changed her life forever. “My heart is too weak,” she says, with palpable resignation. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to work in my fields again.” It’s a hard reality to accept for someone who has lived off the land all her life. Yet, despite the uncertainty hanging over her future, Romène remains hopeful. She talks about her crops, her children, and the yams she promises to bring to the hospital staff, when she’s able to return home.
“I feel better now,” she says, though the heart palpitations and persistent cough that keeps her awake are constant reminders of her fragility.
Romène is just one of thousands of people living with a chronic illness, lives on hold waiting for care they could never have hoped for without Hôpital Bon Sauveur de Cange. Thanks to this care network, she had access to a treatment that saved her life.
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