They say that time heals all wounds and I suppose that is true… but time seems to have stood still since the passing of Toon Hang and even the mention of his name… still brings back all of the memories.

It was a scorching day as we left the pickup and began walking through the dry-dusty rice patties toward the house of Prak Vutha, one of our AIDS patients. She and her son Hang were both HIV Positive and came regularly to our clinics for rice and medicine but not on this day, and so we drove to their home in the countryside. As we approached the house, Hang came running out to greet us and we found his mother lying on a bamboo bed outside of the small hut, in the shade of a tree. She tried to sit up as I approached but was having difficulty because of her weakness.

I raised my hands to my face as a greeting and told her not to get up. After examining her I offered to start an IV but she told me that it wasn’t necessary. I then went over to where Hang was sitting on another bamboo bed and examined him, while my staff continued talking with Vutha. Hang looked to be in good health but seemed concerned for his mother.

Several villagers had gathered around us and some of the older boys started climbing into the trees. I assumed it was to get a better view of things, but suddenly there was a loud thud very close to where I was sitting and I jumped with surprise as large green coconuts began falling to the ground. The boys used their sharp knifes to slice a hole into the top of the coconuts and offered one of them to me… along with some instructions that I did not understand. I raised it to my mouth to take a sip and much to their amusement, poured the coconut water down the front of my shirt. A young boy broke through the crowd and when I saw what he was holding in his hand, I realized what the instructions were. Wait for a straw!

Later, as we prepared to leave, I went back to the bed of Vutha and raised my hands to my face again, as a farewell. To my surprise however, she took hold of my hands and held them very tightly… then with tears in her eyes she whispered “Please take good care of my son.” I wanted to cry, as I walked back to the pickup, but like the rice fields around us, my eyes were to dry to form tears. Vutha died a few days later.

Toon Hang came to live at Wat Opot a few weeks after his mother’s death and it wasn’t long before he became my shadow. He was funny, creative, inquisitive, and very good natured. He picked up on English very fast and by the time school started he was really excited for the opportunity to go. He was the first HIV Positive child to start public school in our village and in no time he became the teacher’s pet.

In June of 2004 the Anti-Retro-Viral (ARV) medication came to our community through MSF-Belgium… but only for adult patients. The doctors in charge had not received training in pediatrics yet and wanted to wait before starting children like Hang on the medications. I was assured however that Hang would be the first child to get them once they received the training.

It was just before New Years that I took Hang to the hospital in Takeo for his appointment. The Doctor informed me that he would be leaving in the afternoon for Thailand to receive the instructions for using the ARV medicines for children. Hang had a bit of fever and had started to have some diarrhea the night previous and so the Doctor wanted to keep him in the children’s hospital in Phnom Penh, so that he could start the medications immediately upon his return. I was reluctant to let him go but the Doctor was just as concerned as I was about Hang and convinced me that it was the best thing to do.

I called the hospital every night for an update and was assured that he was doing fine. On the morning of the 5th of January, 2005, the day the Doctor was to return from Thailand and start the treatment, I called to see what time we could pick Hang up from the hospital and was told that he had died during the night. I was stunned and for a moment couldn’t say anything… when I could speak again, I told them we would be coming right in to pick up the body but then was informed that they had already sent his body to the crematorium in Phnom Penh and all that was left were his ashes.

That was five years ago and I still wait for Hang to come home from the hospital. I imagine him jumping out of the car and running into my arms… arms that have held so many other children since then. Children whom I also had to let go of… as I placed them into the crematorium furnace. The difference was that with Hang I couldn’t hold on to him for that one last time, I couldn’t look into his face and see that he was at peace, and I couldn’t release him from my heart with the first puff of smoke rising out of the crematorium chimney.

The Doctor came out to pay his respects the following day and as he was lighting a candle and incense, offered to open an investigation into Hang’s death. Something didn’t seem right about how things were handled and I could tell that he felt deeply responsible. We told him there was no point in having an investigation because it would only create hard feelings with those we had to continue working with and besides… it wouldn’t bring Hang back to us anyway.

We learned later that to treat children with the ARV medicine, all that was needed is to break the adult tablets in half.

Wayne Dale Matthysse