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Journey to Afghanistan - Chapter 4, page 12

Hyroton - by Ken Magee

The road across the desert to the Friendship Bridge had not improved from the day before. There was the same gusting wind giving life to the lurking dunes. Again we sped past burros and turbaned men and boys carrying immense loads of brush.

Pulling into a narrow driveway by a large but dilapidated adobe building we were told that this was the Hyroton Hospital. A young Afghan doctor met us. Through two interpreters Michael explained out mission. Our host was most courteous in showing us around in great detail. What appeared to have once been a very adequate small hospital had deteriorated into a destitute clinic, but obviously was better than nothing for the thousands of people living in this area near the border of Uzbekistan. Some of the roof was caving in. little heat was available to help patients endure the late January weather. Checking hydrants for water produced few that worked and we were told that it was unsafe for drinking. The bathroom with its squat toilet and a filthy tub was most odiferous. No lab work had been possible "since the Taliban came.: In spite of this, three doctors did the best they could with the remnants. They were seeing about 100 to 150 patients a day and one slept there each night waiting for emergencies. An ancient operating room table was used for minor procedures and had an unemptied bucket of bloody sponges beside it. According to the young physician, attempts to transport seriously ill patients over unreliable roads the fifty miles to Mazar-i-sharif often ended with patients dying enroute. The face and manner of this Afghan physician spoke distinct concern mixed with hope for a better future. It all tugged at our hearts.

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