I have heard this story too many times.


Rotich is 3 years old. His father died just months after he was born. His mother spent most of his first two years of life in and out of the hospital. No one knew exactly what was wrong with her, but when she died a year ago, they told her mother that it was HIV.  Rotich went to live with his grandmother after his mother had died. She barely scrapes together enough for the two of them to eat one meal a day, but loves the boy and she asks her neighbors for help and she tries to provide for him. When he got sick with a bad, bad cough a few months ago, they learned that Rotich has this HIV virus in his blood too. Those were the bad times. She thought she would lose the little boy as well.


"He was all that remained of my daughter," she said. "And I did not want to lose him. But I knew he would die."


In this case, thankfully, Rotich's grandmother was wrong. She managed to get him enrolled in an AMPATH clinic. In our pediatric HIV clinic in the small town of Kitale, Kenya, Rotich was able to receive a combination of medicines that could keep his virus sleeping. My study team started evaluating Rotich and his grandmother every month, going to their house and seeing them in clinic, and making sure that the little boy was getting all four of his medicines, twice a day, every day. They helped arrange for him and his grandmother to get a small monthly supplement of food to help them get a second meal each day. We all got to watch as this last remaining member of his family began to thrive and grow.


I have heard this story many times, for many many children. But it's not really too many times. I don't grow tired of the miracle.

Posted at 04:00


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