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What Difference Does Affordable Medical Care Make? One Family’s Story… Here is a story of the effects of the pandemic on the economic prospects of people who were living on the margins before the crisis. Many people must choose between buying food and going to a doctor. They cannot afford both. This is the story of the people we serve. It could be retold 10,000 times with different names and faces and medical details. This is the difference your donations make.  The Rev. Dr. Olaniyi Olaobaju (center) with the Rev. Tom Furrer and Dr. Olaobaju’s staff at St. Thomas Clinic.
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She had had a severe abdominal pain 4 days prior to presentation and treated herself for "typhoid and malaria" at some chemist but the pain persisted, she vomited and after the second day she noticed her stomach swelling and pain became unbearable. How she managed the third and fourth day she couldn't explain.  A Testimony from St. Thomas Clinic in Port Harcourt By Dr. Olaniyi Olaobaju The date was 27 May, 2021. Just about fifteen minutes past midnight. I was calmly sleeping in my room after a hectic day. The phone rang and I answered it. It was my bosom friend and colleague, Dr. Onyebuchi Obia. “Hello Dr. Olaniyi! Are you in the clinic?” “Yes.” I replied. Dr. Obia continued, “I am in Famo Clinic right now and I have a patient with a ruptured uterus here with me.  Tabitha is a very smart young lady. I am just knowing that her parents were actually killed in one of the crisis that engulfed Southern Kaduna in 2006. She is being catered for by an orphanage that houses over 70 children and widows. A good Samaritan picked interest in her case and is taking care of her education. She is being cared for by one of our clinics in rural clinics in Nigeria. The head doctor is raising funds to help with the cost of her surgery.  By Dr. Arome Okeme, Chief Medical Officer The Arthur and Esther Bradley Memorial Anglican Hospital in Gidan Waya  By Dr. Arome Okeme It was about 10.20pm when they came in. The mother was looking distraught and shaken, while the father, a young man in probably his mid 20s, concealed his emotions, although beneath the veneer of his calmness, I could sense he was frightened. He held the little raggedy looking child in his arms passionately. The two were a beauty to behold. This was their only child and judging from their countenance, they were terrified of the possibility of losing her. I was wasted, exhausted, drained, famished and fagged out. All I wanted was a shower, something to eat and the warmth of my bed. I had just finished a long stretch of resuscitating the head-injured young man from a road accident.  Written by Dr. Okeme Arome Romey Raymond came to our clinic in Gidan Waya, barely able to breathe. He managed a smile. His feet up to the thighs were massively swollen. My fingers dug deep into them leaving behind their prints. His nostrils flared. When I listened to his heart it was wrapped in a blanket of murmurs. The lung fields, especially the lower parts, were like fine waves from the silent gushes of waters from the sea reaching for the shores in a cool calm thick night. He was drowning in his own fluid. 
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