The difference between You and Me…

A few days after an exhausting and emotionally charged couple of weeks at work, I found myself lost in reflection. The weight of everything I witness, the stories etched into the faces of my patients, the stark realities of healthcare in Sierra Leone, it all settles heavy on my heart.

One of the challenges in my new role has been learning how to process what I see each day. The suffering, the resilience, the moments of hope intertwined with heartbreak. There is no blueprint for how to navigate these emotions, no clear path for reconciling the disparity between what should be and what is. I wrestle with the limits of my own hands, the boundaries of what I can do, and the ever-present question of whether I am doing enough.

Amidst the weight of it all, writing has become my refuge, a space where I can pour out the thoughts and emotions that often feel too complex to speak aloud. It allows me to process, to make sense of the chaos, to find clarity in the midst of overwhelming need.

So, after a particularly hard couple of weeks, I turned to writing.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND ME…

The difference between you and me is where we were born. That single stroke of fate determined the course of our lives before we even took our first breaths. I was born into a world of privilege, of running water, of sterile hospital rooms stocked with medicine, of schools that welcomed me with open arms and the promise of a future I could shape. You were born into a world where survival is not a given, where every sip of water could be laced with sickness, where education is a privilege, not a right, where a small infection, easily treated where I come from, could steal away dreams, futures, lives.

I walk through the hospital where I work, past rows of beds filled with suffering that should not be inevitable. I see mothers holding feverish children, whispering prayers, their eyes pleading for relief that may never come. I hear the cries of pain from patients who need surgery but have no money, their agony echoing in the dimly lit wards. I watch as doctors and nurses work tirelessly, their hands skilled but often empty, battling diseases that should be treatable, preventable, eradicated. The difference between them and me is where we were born.

I sleep safely in my bed at night, wrapped in the certainty of tomorrow, in the security of knowing that should I fall ill, help is a call away. But you, your night is filled with uncertainty. The shadows hold dangers I will never know, the morning does not promise safety or healing. You face a world that is unfair by design, where the privilege of one means the suffering of another. And I ask God, again and again—why?

Why do I get these opportunities while you are denied them? Why does a simple twist of geography decide the course of a life? Why was I born into a world where education, healthcare, and safety were my baseline, while you were born into a world where these are privileges, fought for daily, often out of reach?

How is it that, in this age of progress, we still live in a world where this is reality? Where inequality is not some unfortunate accident but a design, a system, woven into the very fabric of our societies. A force so deeply ingrained that it determines who thrives and who barely survives.

It is in the hospital wards, where a mother holds her child, knowing that the medicine they need is just beyond her means.

It is in the eyes of a nurse who works for wages that do not sustain, yet continues, because what else can she do?

It is in the young girl whose dreams stretch beyond the horizon but whose reality tells her she will never reach them.

And the weight of it presses on me. I did nothing to deserve my privileges any more than you did to deserve your struggles. And yet, here we are. People standing in the same room, breathing the same air, sharing the same world, But living entirely different lives.

And I cannot unsee it.
I cannot unknow it.
And I will not be the same.

The difference between you and me is where we were born. And yet, that difference changes everything.