A boy of 12 years living on a green mat : The desire to live of a child who lives without a stomach, has a disease of 1 billion people, only 1 person is sick

My baby's belly was like someone cut it in half and left it unstitched. The skin is as thin as paper, transparent and can be seen inside. The intestines, stomach, and bladder are tangled together in a tangle, protruding out like a worm. My baby's entire lower body was dead, completely dead when he was just starting to cry.

The nurse goes first, I go after. As she walked, she gently comforted: "You must prepare yourself mentally", "You must be calm", "You are young, there are many opportunities".

I was dumbfounded when I heard it...

From the moment I stepped into this intensive care unit, the suffocating, dead air hit my nose, choking me. There are hundreds of deformed children, children with cleft palates, blind children, children with only a few truncated limbs... They cried continuously in glass cages.

"Get ready!"… "Calm down"… The nurse continued.

Then she suddenly turned around, her voice deepened: "There is only one child in a billion. It must be dead ...". The endless sympathy through her teary eyes made me feel like I had just been stabbed in the heart with a fatal knife.

"It’s okay! He’s my baby" - I said.

At the 14th box, the nurse stopped completely. In front of me, a red child, slightly larger than a squash. Except for the breathing tube poked in the mouth, hands and feet tied to the iron wall, it seems that my baby is still the most healthy in the room.

"Are you ready yet?" - asked the nurse. Waiting for me to finish nodding, she slowly peeled off the layers of towels wrapped around the baby’s body. The white towel was opened, the next layer was soaked with blood. My child screams. I fell to the ground, sobbing. Now I understand why it has to be lying here, around the weird kids earlier.

My baby’s belly was like someone cut it in half and left it unstitched. The skin is as thin as paper, transparent and can be seen inside. The intestines, stomach, and bladder are entangled together, protruding out. My baby’s entire lower body was dead, completely dead when he was just starting to cry.

"There’s only one child in a billion. I don’t think your child will survive..." - the nurse put her hand on my shoulder, whispering as I cried.
5 months ago, the day I took Binh for a prenatal check-up, the doctor of Tu Du Hospital hesitantly informed my husband and I: "The baby may be deformed, inguinal hernia (hiding genitalia), you should leave the baby, the fetus is still small…”. But Binh still refused the doctor’s suggestion, she wanted to have a baby. That night, back home, she lay close to the wall, crying.

Then the day Binh gave birth, just got out of the operating room, the doctor wrapped my baby in a white towel, pulled my hand into the ambulance and drove away. In the car, I sat staring at the blood-stained package and thinking about bad things. I repeatedly asked the nurse to hold the baby, but she most refused: "He is very weak".
At that time, Binh worked as a worker for a shoe glue company. Every night, after the shift, the smell of plastic glue clinging to her clothes, hair, and limbs followed her home, I felt an insecurity. Since knowing that the child can be born with the disease, my wife and I have been working harder. We have prepared more than 70 million VND to be ready for surgery when necessary.

But I never thought my baby was born, before opening his eyes, that the stories of "death" filled his breath like that. I wish I could lift the glass cage to hug him, caress his belly, say: "Here I am!", "Here I am". My baby was still crying inside the glass cage, still squealing.

In the past, when my father was in the army, my mother had to stay at home to row and raise my 3 brothers. There was a time when I fell seriously ill, my mother repeatedly wrote letters to call my father back, but there was no sound.

One night, I had a measles attack, convulsions and then softened, my mother carried me on her back, running barefoot in the cold to knock on the door of each healer’s door to ask for help. At that time, the post-measles disease "eats" all of my skin and internal organs, and my stomach swells up like a balloon waiting to explode. The villagers call me a "Small Earth", meaning that no matter what life or death is, it’s just... tight.

But through that life-and-death battle, I was as strong as an elephant, working day and night without ever getting sick.
Binh was in the hospital for 3 days, then I took her home. In the evening, after lunch, she asked about her son. I had to pretend to lie: "It’s fine. Don’t worry, the doctor said I’ll be discharged in more than a week". Since then, every morning, I take my car to the hospital and lie down all day on a stone bench. I can’t see the baby, the doctor doesn’t say anything more…, but I have to stay here to avoid the flood of questions Binh.

On the 21st day, she insisted on seeing me. My wife and I had a big argument, Binh banged on the door, took the clothes out of the house: "I took a motorbike taxi to find my children. I don’t need you ...".
I ran after her, begging her to get in the car. On the way, I tried to explain: "Don’t be sad. You will get well soon". Binh sat back and shed tears. Halfway through, it rained heavily, I covered her with a plastic bag, while I was wading in the water, driving the car.

It was late afternoon at the hospital gate, the time to visit children was over. The doctor saw that my clothes were soaked in water, so he opened the door: "One person in, 5 minutes!". Binh walked in, the sound of the door slamming behind me made me feel like I had just pushed her through the gates of hell.

After 5 minutes, Binh ran out, sobbing: "Why are you so cruel! Someone cut open my baby’s stomach? Who?", then she hugged me and fainted.

Son with his parents and sister.

Over 1 and a half months, my baby lost 1.6 kg. At that time, except for its red, red mouth, its whole body was dry. One night, the doctor took us to the room, carefully taught me how to put wet paper on my baby’s belly to make fake skin: "You can bring him home.

I’m overjoyed.

That day, when I was able to go out for the first time and breathe in the fresh air, my baby got better. Halfway there, he drank milk, and Binh took the bottle. The milk flowed through the mouth less than 10 minutes, then it poured into the plastic wrap under the anus. I looked at Binh crying and giggling, drinking milk again.

At home, I played a little, then slept, woke up again with milk. At midnight, it naturally cried, milk gushed up its mouth and nose, causing it to turn purple, its stomach distended like a balloon, separating the thin layer of paper above, causing the intestines to protrude. I was helpless, wanted to save him, hug him, comfort him, but my arms only made him struggle more.
"Save my baby", "Someone save my baby", I ran out of the room, still wearing my pajamas, screaming. The whole neighborhood woke up. "Save my child", "Help". I hugged my son and ran, ran, barefoot running on the hot roads at 12 o’clock at night.

- Uncle, how is my child? The doctor saved my baby with… At the hospital door, my leg was torn and bleeding.

- If I return it, you must know that it will be difficult for me to survive? The doctor looked at me shyly.

At that time, I just realized for the announcement to bring the baby home in the morning, the advice and the milk. It turned out to be the last gift the doctor arranged for me and my wife. I fell down, hugged him tightly, everything fell apart.

Up to now, in order to be able to live, Son and I have persevered in surgery on less than 10 times.

- You try to pass. I’m young and I have a lot of opportunities. The doctor comforts.

- Uncle, save my child... Just this time, please save my child.

I screamed, staring at him, who was barely breathing, his stomach torn in two, bleeding.

- Save my baby… Please save my baby… I burst into tears.

- I have never seen a father as stubborn as you. Just think about the baby, you have to accept it!, the doctor hugged me, crying along.
"Go sign the papers, I’ll arrange the operation right away." That night, my son had urgent surgery. When I took the paper that promised to 95% dead, 5% alive, I quickly signed it and handed it back immediately, not daring to read anything more.

I called home and asked my father to name my son Thanh Son in the household registration book. Son means mountain, so that you will always be strong and steady like a mountain. Thanh is serenity, I want my child to die, a gentlest death.

Dad bought a small box, told everyone to prepare, if there’s anything, I’ll take you home early" - I insisted.

Hearing this, my father also cried.

8 hours passed, me and Binh sat in front of the operating room, no one dared to look directly at anyone. The doctor went in and out of more than a dozen people. In the morning, I received a message: "It seems to have been successful". My wife and I hugged each other.

Since then, the hospital and the motel room with Son as one. For a month and 10 days, Son had to be hospitalized because of infection, hemorrhage, gangrene, urine outflow the fecal tract, urine mixed. But luckily, the boy lived.

When Son was 2 years old, Uncle Ut moved to the South to settle down. Since reviving Son, I have never once brought my child back to my hometown, I have hidden any illness. But that time, Uncle Ut insisted on seeing me. I humbly agree.

Ut and I are step-brothers, but we are more than 10 years apart in age. I see him as both a brother and a son. Since Ut was still peeing in his crotch, it was hanging on my back. I love it very much. When I was 16 years old, I went to work, Ut just turned 4. On the day I left, I spat on my hand and applied it all over it. Old people say that even if they are far away, children will also miss their loved ones.

I can’t believe the day Son shed his intestines, I also lost Uncle Ut.

In Saigon for more than 15 years, I worked as a plumber in the morning, in the evening loading and unloading, fixing plumbing, catching electrical wires, and so on. Every month more than silver million, sent back home for Ut to study. But in the 12th grade, I gave birth to Son, he insisted on not going to university.

"I went to study a trade and then went to the South to earn money to help my brothers and sisters."

He asked to go to vocational secondary school, then asked for workers to build bridges under Vinh Long. The first time he went to Saigon, he saw Son, touched his halved stomach, he blamed: "Why are you suffering like this! Why are you hiding me?", then hugged my wife and I cried.
In the evening, Ut asked to lie next to Son, all night opened his eyes to exchange, whisper: "I go to make money, I will treat you". A few days later, Ut took his backpack away, I pushed him until he accepted 700,000 VND lump sum. When he got into the car, he smiled: "At the end of the month, I have money to send to my brothers and sisters to treat me." I didn’t expect it to be the last time I saw Ut smile.

When Ut went for more than a week, Son asked to practice walking. That night, I came home late and sat by the door sill smoking, while Binh was cooking in the kitchen. Pouring rain.

Recently, Son has started to wiggle the hose away, causing me to yell and stop many times. But how can I stop my old feet growing old?The boy slowly stood up on his thin legs like sticks, slowly lifting each step. His face was pale, but he still couldn’t stop smiling. Above, its torn belly was wrapped by Binh with a homemade plastic bag. I silently thanked her.

"Go, son... Be strong son..." - I thought to myself. Binh stood in the kitchen, holding his breath.

By the 10th step, the plastic bag was round and round, with a long intestine hanging out of a bag and then falling to Son’s feet, blood flowing to the floor. The boy fell down, crying.

"My son... I..." - Binh shouted.

My wife and I rushed to take the baby to the hospital. Half way, the phone rang loudly: "Ut fell off the bridge. It’s dead, it’s dead Du!". Mom cried over the phone. "People say the bridge collapsed, it was carrying cement, then it fell into the river and lost its body. Hurry up to pick it up... Pick me up with my mother ...".

I hung up, not knowing what words to say to comfort her broken heart. Behind me, Binh still pressed his face to Son’s chubby cheeks: "I’ve stopped breathing. What’s wrong? Hurry up, brother. I’m going to die, I’m going to die...".
"Welcoming Ut back to his mother...". "Hurry up brother, Son bleeds... I’ll die...". I looked up to the sky, I don’t know, should I cry for the death of the youngest uncle first or my son’s life-and-death disease first? Tears flowed in two rows.

That day, I left Binh in the middle of the road, leaving Binh while she was still holding her critical child like that. I turned my head, drove to Vinh Long, never dared to look back at her. I was really scared to face Binh’s aching face.

At the district gate, when entering the gas station, the salesman looked at my red eyes and asked: "Did you come somewhere else? Come here to find someone?"

"I’m looking for my brother". My heart beats like it’s about to burst my chest.

"What is he doing here? Don’t tell me to build a bridge! Don’t tell me your brother works as a bridge worker in Tra On district?" - the salesman suddenly changed color.

"Yes! Yes! Do you know my brother? Do you know my brother?".
"Chen dac! I’m so sorry... It’s all gone. 5 people fell into the river yesterday and all died...". The salesman sobbed, the old man’s old face seemed to flow with my tears. "They’re all dead. Poor uncle" - the old man cried louder.

At that time, I just stood there dumbfounded, I don’t know how long, my legs were like two pillars on the road.

Uncle Ut’s voice, his smiling face when saying goodbye to me: "At the end of the month, I have money, I will give you treatment", echoing endless spaces. I just stood there, bare as if I had been buried in the ground. The wind blows the riverbank, the winds are sad.

Then the ambulance sped out the bridge, sirens blaring. At the fork, they dropped a rain of gold coins. I stood there dumbfounded, tears streaming down my face. Maybe the last ambulance was Uncle Ut?

Building a grave for Ut, still installing the last 2 bricks, I received a phone call Binh: "Brother! My son probably won’t survive! The doctor said to cut it all...", I cried again.

That time, the doctor was forced to completely remove the large intestine, create a prosthetic skeleton, and an anus. Many times the boy just drank water and ran down to the plastic bag under the navel, after eating something a few hours later, he also went to the colostomy… But Son still miraculously survived. Many nights, sitting and looking at my children, I secretly thank Ut, thank the saying: "In the future, when I have money, I will take care of him". I cried silently.

I bought a plastic potty for Son to live on. 24/7, 365 days a year, Son eats, drinks, takes medicine, does surgery, plays games, watches superheroes, all on that beloved blue potty.

More than half a year, its butt ulcerated into the shape of a pot, the buttock skin was callous and hard. At night, I carefully sit with wet paper on his belly to make skin for it. It bit its lip: "I’m superman, I don’t hurt", but his face was wet with tears.

At the age of 3, Son had no friends. The smell coming the potty was enough to make the children shiver and run away. I understand that I should limit taking Son out.

Every night, when I come home, I often play with my children. Son made me run, but only around his green potty. While running, shouting: "Youkai", "You’re here". It will poke me with a plastic sword, making me pretend to be dead. So Son laughed, triumphant.
At the age of 6, Son fully understood his illness. It is happier, more optimistic, accepting the blue potty as a part of its body, like a right limb attached to its body. Every day, he stayed at home, rubbing his elbows on the ground, practicing pushing the potty to move. The first few times, he couldn’t get past the 5th tile when the blood oozed out into the plastic bag. Well, it’s hidden.

Just like that, he used his hands to practice pushing the potty. After a few months, the potty broke my ass, and I had to buy a new potty again. Over the years, Son has mastered the waves on the potty. It’s like a "lead soldier riding his handsome horse". Glide straight, brake quickly, turn left hand, turn right, turn the pot, ... Son did it very skillfully. During his childhood, he was engrossed in life, engrossed in fighting on such a green potty.
One day, while playing a mock battle, Son rode the potty, and when he reached the edge of the brick, he deviated and rushed out. It fell, its butt hit the ground, amniotic fluid. The potty spilled urine and feces onto its face, hair, and healthiest parts of its body.

"Son!" - Binh squealed, wrote to hug the boy, but he was able to wipe his tears with both hands. He looked at me, looked at Binh, and grumbled: "I don’t want to sit on the potty all my life. I want to go to school like you guys. Grow up, go to work, have money, I take care of my parents."

My whole family cried.

Join hands to help "Green paint" and children with disabilities

Established for more than 10 years, until now, Thien Nhan Foundation and friends have participated in free examination and surgery for hundreds of children with genital malformations in Vietnam with a leading medical team Italy. .

In November 2020, Thien Nhan Foundation and friends will conduct surgery for nearly 35 children with genital defects such as "Son pot green". Each surgery requires a minimum of 35,000,000 VND. Looking forward to the cooperation of benefactors to heal the wounds of children and their families.

- All donations should be sent to:

* Account name: Tran Mai Anh

Account number: 0011000474142; Joint Stock Commercial Bank for Foreign Trade of Vietnam VCB - Hoan Kiem Branch

* Account name: VPDD of Asia Injury Prevention Foundation in Vietnam

Account number: 1100187251; Commercial Joint Stock Bank Saigon - Hanoi Ba Dinh branch.