The boy has one year left at best, maybe two.
There's a bulge on his ankle hunting him, creeping up through his body, a slow but tireless predator.
It hurts. It should be cut off.

Do you know what cancer is, the nurse asks his mother. She doesn't.
It's a disease without a cure. We can't save him.
But he can feel better. It should be cut off.

The boy's eyes are wet. What good are one and a half legs in Haiti?
But the pain would be gone. They would be a good two years. Better, at least.
How much is an ankle worth in a land with nothing, to a boy and a mother with nothing?
How much is it worth to live your last days without pain?

It hurts. It should be cut off.

---

I've spent the past couple of days with a visiting surgery team, with docs from America, Canada, and Australia doing beautiful work. I watched a boy have his cancerous leg amputated and a man have his crippled hand fixed. Surely Christ's words were true in every sense: "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick."

Thank God for doctors who are willing to serve the sickest among us, even when the sick cannot pay.

Below: A hand surgery in NWHCM's surgery ward in Saint-Louis du Nord