Yes! but also...
...being sick
Two weeks ago, we attended to a ward patient who was complaining of hunger. His son was by his side every day and night, but he didn't cook, so they were eating only things wrapped in plastic: peanuts, mandazi (local donuts), and the occasional soda. Knowing the importance of good nutrition for recovery, we gave the son 10,000/= (about 4 USD) to bring some good, home-cooked meals to the hospital. Sadly, we have now learned that the boy left "in search of food" and never came back. He pocketed the money, swiped the mobile phone from under the hospital bed, collected rent from all his father's tenants (saying Dad was sick and needed cash for treatment), and left town. Never mind that the dad didn't see a single forkful of real food; he also might never see his son again.
...being a woman
A woman tells us that she might miss some clinic visits, since her husband doesn't want her to get HIV treatment. "If I hear about any of you [multiple wives] going to hospital, I will kill you!" (I had to confirm, but yes, this was a serious threat.) She was able to sneak out last week, but who knows when she will next be able to risk her life for the drugs that might save her life.
...being a man
A 65-year-old man was on the ward, without food or attendants. Apparently he has 5 wives and 16 children, but they have all left him with his illness. I am told they won't come back until he can pay the rent on their houses. That sorry patient left the hospital because he needed a caretaker, and now he stays with his 80- or 90-something mom. When I asked if she is able to provide food for the 2 of them, his friend reassured me, "Yes, well, they find things to eat here and there." Should I be reassured?
...being a mother
See above. I think that illustrates well enough that the mother's duties are never over, especially in hard times.
...being a kid
18 years of life, 18 kgs of skin and bones. This AIDS orphan sells his ARVs to people who can't or don't want to register in ART clinics. On the one hand, I am angry that he exploits HIV medicine and stigma, undermining so many doctors' and nurses' attempts at treatment, all the while sabotaging his own health. On the other hand, I recognize that the only way he has ever learned to live is as a sick, poor, and pitiful orphan. Besides, it pays! If he can buy himself a radio or new jacket, he thinks he'll be happy. Maybe he even thinks he'll be normal. I wish someone had raised him to know otherwise, or be otherwise, a long, long time ago.
