Finn's Take· TL;DRDr. Patrick LaRochelle sits in a specialized plastic isolation chamber in Prague, asymptomatic but haunted by the crisis unfolding thousands of miles away in the Democratic Republic of Congo. The 46-year-old American missionary physician was just 20 minutes from boarding a plane home to the United States for a summer visit with his wife and three children when everything changed. A WhatsApp message delivered devastating news: Ebola was here, suddenly making sense of the mysterious illness sweeping through the hospital where he worked in Bunia.
Murmurs of a "casket disease" had already begun by mid-May, as patients began to die in waves. LaRochelle had treated two middle-aged sisters at Centre Medical Evangelique Bunia Hospital who presented with strange symptoms - diarrhea, shock, low blood sugar, and breathing problems. With one sister recently diagnosed with HIV, he didn't recognize the obvious signs of Ebola. Both women died.
While LaRochelle receives round-the-clock care from multiple hospital staffers in protective gear, he reflects on a painful irony: "The two times, perhaps, that I've been most proud to be an American in the last 10 years have been when I've been evacuated. What hurts is knowing that that is not available to the vast majority of people, and certainly not to my friends in Congo."
The Bundibugyo ebolavirus outbreak in Congo has spread to neighboring Uganda and is likely larger than officially reported, with health officials warning of nearly 750 suspected cases, including 177 suspected deaths. This is only the third known outbreak of the deadly Bundibugyo strain, for which there is no known vaccine or treatment, carrying a fatality rate of 30 to 50%.
LaRochelle describes the harsh realities of medical practice in Congo, where gloves and soap are in short supply, and typical disinfecting practices like hand washing aren't always practical. One nurse he knows had no masks, gloves, or gowns until the LaRochelles were able to supply them through their network, yet the nurse continues caring for a community of 8,000 people.
LaRochelle maintains contact with fellow physician missionary Peter Stafford, who is "doing a lot better" in Berlin after testing positive for Ebola this month. Both doctors received experimental monoclonal antibodies to reduce their chance of death given the strain's high fatality rate.
Despite the danger, LaRochelle draws hope from his Congolese colleagues: "What gives me hope is my colleagues who are fighting for the lives of every patient, risking so much to follow their call to heal the sick, and then many hundreds and thousands—both Congolese and expatriate—who are mobilizing to come fight Ebola with them."
One medical director shared that he's going to the camp more often than normal to model to his staff that continuing to care for their community and maintaining trust is the most important way to love them and mitigate the disease's spread. LaRochelle reflected on his unique position: "Standing helpless as Peter worsened prior to his medical evacuation, I had a glimpse of the reality that my Congolese friends and colleagues are living constantly, and for which a medical evacuation is not an option."
Twice daily, LaRochelle speaks with his wife and three children, who are safely back in the United States. As he awaits test results in his Prague isolation chamber, the true heroes of this outbreak continue their work without the safety net of international evacuation - a sobering reminder of healthcare inequality in our interconnected world.