The Ambassador of TB

The Ambassador of TB has a shaved head and a portly build. He waddles barefoot from room to room, stopping by to say hello, to offer a polite nod of the head. At times, he reaches up and tilts his imaginary hat.

Sometimes the Ambassador of TB decides that today should be a no pants day, and then the Ambassador finds himself closer to nature as he lets it all hang out, not even giving shame it's due respect.

Man, woman, child - it doesn't matter. He'll come up to you, shake your hand if offered. And if you're lucky, he'll grab a handful of your face and wrestle you to the ground.

When I walk into the wards every morning, more often than not, he's making his rounds. He's stopping by the 6 month-old-would-be-Hollywood-starlet with two inch eyelashes, her TB meningitis the only thing standing in her way. He makes his presence known in the acute room, where he bids adieu to the mothers. Some mornings when I feel up to it, I rub his potbelly and offer a greeting. He usually furrows his bushy brows, gives me a quizzical little look and waddles on.

The Ambassador of TB gets himself into trouble sometimes though. The IV strapped to his foot usually drags behind him, getting caught in furniture, underfoot, and in the way. And as much as a celebrity as he is on the wards, he has a habit of getting overlooked. The last time I had a nurse run and get a dose of meds, she whipped around so quickly that a good portion of her rear gave him an ugly hook and left him headed for the mat three feet back.

The Ambassador of TB, with his swollen neck and matted lymph nodes, is a little dynamo of infection, ready to spread his love to the rest of the ward. Sometimes when he's violently grappling with the boy with dreads or bitch slapping the junior Sigourney Weaver look alike from Aliens 3, I wonder if the little parcel of love lodged in his neck is going to rupture, spilling highly infectious TB laden pus all over his victim. The Ambassador of TB is a giver. He's a generous soul. He'll fetch charts and deliver favors. His knowing gaze and loving smile win over legions of adoring fans, countless fellow patients, and most all of the staff.

And yes, while the Ambassodor of TB is only two years old and battling TB, he is in fact my role model. He just gets up and goes, pants or no pants. He's fearless, he's relentlessly optimistic, nothing gets to him.

And he is, of course, one of my favorite patients. They all hold a place, but sometimes you just need to see one who's not so sick, one who looks almost normal. And then there's the Hollywood Starlet who lies mostly motionless in her bed; I fall in love every time I look into her eyes. There's Cranky Pants who screams everytime I so much as glance at her, and there's Pukie who up until just a couple days ago projectile vomited just about everything we fed him.

I've just been through one of the most challenging weeks of my life, having to handle the wards as the sole attending physician running the show. But there are moments in the middle of all the chaos and absurdity when it all comes together. Mostly ushered in by patients like the oddball Ambassador of TB, these moments stave off exhaustion, and at the end of the day, have me looking forward to the next.