I spoke too soon. Shiann developed fever, diarrhoea and continued to vomit. She became quite dehydrated and wasn't able to swallow the Panadol. After consultation with my ER nurse friend via facebook and Ping, we hailed a minibus and headed to the hospital.

When we arrived, I became more worried. The hospital didn't look or feel like a hospital, although it did have that universal hospital smell. There was no triage area, no nurses station, no signage to direct us where to go. A few helpful locals directed us to a window across a dark room where I gave Shiann's name and paid the 200 vatu patient contribution. I asked how long the wait would be to see someone, the reply was "now".

We were shown a waiting area down the corridor where we sat for only a couple of minutes before being called into the consultation room. Shiann was examined by a lovely Vanuatu nurse who wrote her details in a big ledger, no eMR* here. Her temp, BP, pulse were recorded on a scrap of paper. The nurse ruled out malaria and dengue fever (haven't been here long enough). She told us Shiann would need fluids to rehydrated her and showed us to another room where Shiann was instructed to hop up on the bed. The nurse left to get the fluids and giving set etc and the Doctor came in. The only indication that he was a doctor was the stethoscope slung around his neck. He carried a portable radio or mp3 player in his pocket, so wherever he went, music went with him.

The doctor inserted a cannula, to Shiann's horror, and a litre of normal saline was started. They gave a bolus of about 300-400mls, then slowed the bag to about 40dpm. Shiann eventually dozed off (she was alot more relaxed when I explained there was no needle in her hand, just a small plastic tube), after sleeping for about an hour, she rolled over and said "I feel much better". That was music to my ears.

I think I can honestly say this has been the most terrifying experience of my life. To have a gravely ill child in a foreign country where you know nothing, or noone and there's no 24 hr chemists (the Vila chemist shut at 12.15 today, 10 minutes before we got there). The hospital here is so different to what we're used to, however she was seen and treatment had begun within 15 of our arrival.

So as I write this, I'm sitting next to her as she sleeps in examination room 2, or 4 (depending which sign on the door you believe) at the Vila Central Hospital, with the ceiling fan interrupting the light from the overhead fluro and causing flickering shadows across the walls and floors. Listening to the bislama whispers of the locals as they sit by their loved ones bedsides, and watching the geckoes chase bugs across the windows. David and Chase have returned to our hotel to try and get some sleep, I don't think we'll be doing much tomorrow. I'll just be grateful if we're all healthy and together.

*eMR = electronic medical record, recently introduced at WWBH to mixed reviews.