A True Story by Debbie Plowman
1969
We had been living in Honduras for three years – New Englanders who had come south to start a business and a new chapter of life. The jungle was never far from our door, and one day it brought us an unexpected visitor.
A baby ocelot had been abandoned in the jungle. We rescued him and brought him home, naming him Lancelot. He was tiny, with oversized paws and solemn eyes, but when the chickens scratched in the dirt nearby, they scattered in every direction. They new he was no ordinary kitten.
One day when I was home alone, I noticed that Lancelot was lethargic and weak. His playful energy had vanished. Unsure of what to do, I placed him gently in a small box and took him to the local doctor.. After examining him, the doctor said he appeared to have dysentery-a common and dangerous illness, especially for babies and small children.
He told me something that would stay with me forever: Dysentery could kill a baby within forty-eight hours. Many parents, too poor to seek medical help, believed the child would recover in a few days. Often, the doctor said, they were wrong. Medical care was urgent – within 24 hours – or the child most likely would not survive. Sadly, for Lancelot it was too late. He died shortly afterward.
In Honduras it is the custom to have a maid, no matter how poor we were ourselves. We had a lovely young woman named Virginia, who had three adorable children. When her last baby was born, we were able to find an old crib for her, and let Virginia bring the baby to work each day.
Our house had no glass windows, only wooden shutters, so we draped mosquito netting over the crib. The baby’s name was Ana Bessie. She had big brown eyes and a cheerful, peaceful nature. I grew fond of watching her from across the room as she lay beneath the netting.
One mild October day, I noticed she seemed unwell. I asked Virgina what was wrong. She told me the baby had been having diarrhea for more than a day. I told her Ana Bessie needed to see a doctor. Virginia shook her head. She said the baby would be fine in a day or two – and she could not afford medical care.
Suddenly, Lancelot came back to me. The doctor’s words echoed in my mind: Forty-eight hours. Twenty four hours to survive. Time was of the essence. I insisted we go immediately. We traveled to the public hospital in the capital city, only to find a long line of patients waiting.
And here is something I confess with embarrassment: as an American I went straight to the front of the line with Ana Bessie in my arms. The staff took her in at once and began treatment. She had dysentery. The doctor later told me that if we had waited even one more day, she would not have survived.
Ana Bessie lived.
I truly believe the lesson I learned from Lancelot saved her life. He came into our lives for only a short time – but he left behind something far greater than himself: a living, breathing baby girl.
Lancelot did not survive the jungle or the sickness, but through him, Ana Bessie did.
by roving reporter Shaun Lawton for
THE OSCILLATING OCULUS
