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Though our demanding work left little time for each other. Most of our encounters occurred in conflict zones–he’d be rushing to treat the wounded while I fought to save lives in the operating
room. Often, a brief touch as we passed was all we could share.
The unreliable network coverage didn’t help. Days would pass without contact, then suddenly my phone would buzz incessantly with an avalanche of messages. They arrived jumbled and chaotic, as if they too had navigated through gunfire and devastation, yet each carried the weight of longing
and unwavering devotion.
The situation in East Meridian Province deteriorated rapidly.
Our first serious argument erupted when a village near Meridia came under attack. We arrived while the militants were still active, with security forces engaged in ongoing firefights.
We were rushing back to evacuate when Joseph suddenly leaped from the ambulance. At the battlefield’s edge lay a fallen villager. Joseph hoisted the man onto his back and carried him to safety, his own body lacerated by shrapnel.
Terror and fury coursed through me. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
He stood firm. “I’m a doctor! I couldn’t leave him there! His leg injury was survivable–if I hadn’t acted, he would have died for certain!”
I knew he was right. I knew it was his duty. But when he returned drenched in blood–so much I couldn’t distinguish his from the victim’s–my composure shattered.
After confirming with trembling hands that his wounds were superficial, I broke down, clinging to
him as I sobbed.
“Joseph! I can’t lose anyone else! If something happened to you, what would I do?”
He held me in silence before wrapping his arms around me, his voice raw. “I’m sorry… I promise to be more careful. No more unnecessary risks. No more making you worry.”
Still crying, I pressed my face against his chest. “You have to promise!”
“Let’s make it official,” he said, extending his pinky. “Pinky swear–whoever breaks it turns into a puppy!”
I couldn’t help but laugh through my tears. “If you really turned into a puppy, how would I introduce
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you to my mother?”
“Your puppy boyfriend?” he teased with a grin.
I hurled a pillow at him in exasperation. He played dead, lying motionless until I frantically pulled the pillow away to find his face unmarked, wearing that sly smile. His expression seemed to say: See? I’m not so easy to break.
I glared until my vision blurred with fresh tears. In that moment, I realized how precious each day
with Joseph truly was.
As the conflict intensified, Ebola began its merciless sweep through this already ravaged land. By spring, Joseph’s schedule grew even more demanding. With medical staff severely depleted, he shuttled between refugee camps and the Ebola treatment center.
When armed groups launched surprise attacks on treatment centers across several cities, many doctors were forced to evacuate. But Joseph refused to leave. While Meridia remained relatively stable, nearly a hundred patients lay in the center. Abandoning them meant leaving them to die in
their beds.
Joseph and four other doctors chose to stay and adapt as events unfolded. But the situation deteriorated rapidly. Armed groups seized the outskirts of Meridia, cutting off all escape routes. We were trapped.
Amid this tension, Joseph suddenly messaged me to come to the treatment center. He offered no explanation, but dread settled in my stomach.
After donning protective gear, we entered the medical waste disposal area. In a hastily cleared room, I found a group of Huronai children–more than ten of them. They had fled from the mountains, the eldest no more than twelve.
Their clothes hung in tatters, their bodies riddled with infected wounds. I could hardly believe my
eyes.
The armed groups controlling the outskirts were Tusari, locked in a generations–old blood feud with the Huronais. If these children were discovered, not only would they face certain death, but the entire treatment center could be destroyed.
Overwhelmed, I shouted at Joseph: “Have you lost your mind? What about the principles of Doctors Without Borders?”
He wasn’t supposed to involve himself directly in the conflict. Only through neutrality could he help the most people.
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He hung his head, speaking softly. “I know it’s dangerous. That’s why I need your help finding an organization that can shelter these children.”
“How will you get them past the patrols?” I asked, nearly despairing.
Joseph’s words tumbled out rapidly: “They’re small enough to hide in protective suits inside medical waste bins. The disposal trucks come every three days, and no one inspects those bins. If someone’s
waiting to receive them on the other side, we can save their lives!”
The audacity of his plan left me speechless.
He clenched his fists, his voice filled with conviction: “Zoey, I am a human being first, a doctor second, and a member of Doctors Without Borders last. I cannot stand by and watch these children
be thrown away to die!”
