Jamie Joseph on assignment with Big Life Foundation, Kenya
We race over to Jetta in our vehicles and Dr Njoroge and his team swiftly get to work. They turn her over so that she is lying on her side, and then start scooping their fingers into the wound. Blood comes gushing out.
“The biggest problem we’re facing right now is that she’s been hit on the spine,” Dr Njoroge says to me as he assesses the wound. “That’s why she’s limping.”
They clean the wound out and smother it with antibiotics.
“How is her breathing?” Dr Njoroge looks over to me where I am crouched down with my fingers resting on her trunk.
“Six deep breaths on the minute,” I reply.
“If it goes below five breaths a minute we’re in trouble,” he says calmly.
The wound is deep, and at least twenty minutes has passed before they start sealing the wound with a type of clay that looks like war paint.
“Four deep breaths on the minute,” I call out just as I feel something squeeze my heart. “Come on girl,” I whisper to Jetta, and at that moment her trunk gently flicks up, signally the M99 drug is starting to wear off.
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