One of the early defining moments of my time living and working in Cambodia was when I visited one of the better private children's clinics in Phnom Penh.
We met the queue of patients outside the clinic as the sun started to rise. Mothers sat patiently on plastic chairs cradling very sick children, most of whom were on IV drips, as the morning traffic clattered past them just inches away. My son was only five at the time and we had recently moved to Phnom Penh. All I could think of was "if this is what good looks like, what is it like everywhere else?"
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