Blessing . . .

Meet Blessing . . . an eight-year-old from Liberia

Who had fallen on her way home from school and developed sepsis which turned into noma

 Noma is a flesh-eating disease.

Through the grace of God, 

coupled with a mother's prayer,

Blessing visited the ship not only

in Liberia,

but Sierra Leone

and Guinea, too.

Using the God-given skills of the staff on board

the good ship Mercy,

today Blessing looks like this!

To God be the glory - great things He has done!

"NO!"

I've spent the last two days at the Y telling my classes and their parents that we wouldn't be jumping in the water this week (and maybe next!) because I had been in a car crash.   I had bruises on my chest and it was really hard for me to try and catch anyone right now.  Only two-year old Charlie asked, "Can I see your bruises?"

All in a day's work . . .

Sam is currently reading "The Bridge to Terebithia" to his fifth grade classroom.  As part of their homework, he gave them two vocabulary words from the book to look up and define and he asked them to find a third word they did not know.  Here's how that played out:

Female Student:  "Mr. Zupke, what does 'boossomly' mean?"

Mr. Zupke:  "Look it up."

Female Student:  "Mr. Zupke, it says 'having large boossoms'.  What are boossoms?"

 

A Round of Applause

There is a universal principle of childhood physics that we all remember well: the joy of spinning in circles. Perhaps it was spinning while locking hands with a playmate, in a teacup at Disney World, dancing in pirouettes, or simply turning in place – it was a thrill to send our surroundings into a kaleidoscopic blur. This was followed by a dizzy fit of giggles – at least until our internal compasses caught up, and the world came back into focus. Do you remember?

Four years ago, a little girl named Jaka was spinning around in circles with some other children while her mother was at the market. Around and around, arms out, chin up, her face full of smiles. Tragically, when Jaka lost her balance, she plummeted into her aunt’s cooking fire. Jaka landed in the burning coals on her left side with her arm up. The pot of boiling water her aunt had prepared for rice spilled over the little girl’s shoulders, arms and back.

Fanta, Jaka’s mother, ran home from the market and took her daughter to a local hospital in Conakry. In order to be seen by doctors, the hospital required a payment of 1.5 million Guinea Francs at the gate – just over $200. The family could not afford admission.  Fanta returned home with Jaka, unable to ease her daughter’s agony. For the next eight months, Jaka laid on her little stomach, tethered to the ground by unimaginable pain. Each day, her mother fanned her, trying to offer Jaka whatever relief she could from the inescapable African heat.

As Jaka’s burns healed without medical care or rehabilitation, her left shoulder and arm contracted. Jaka’s skin began to grow back in such a way that her arm became stuck to her side from her armpit to elbow.  Fanta feared that Jaka would lose the ability to move her arm. Still unable to afford any medical treatment, Fanta tried to treat the problem herself.

Fanta forced Jaka’s arm away from her side three times, trying to prevent the contracture. Fanta described each attempt, saying that she and Jaka both cried themselves to exhaustion. On the fourth try, Jaka begged her mother to stop because the pain was so unbearable. “If you try to pull it open again, I will die. The pain will kill me,” Jaka said to her mother. With that, Fanta resigned herself to allowing Jaka’s arm to heal on its own, stuck to her side.

Today, 9-year-old Jaka is a patient on the Africa Mercy hospital ship, recovering from a free plastic surgery that released her arm and grafted skin. Deep burn marks cover her entire upper body – her head, neck, shoulders, back and arms – but no one notices because they are entranced by the little girl’s adorable gap-toothed smile.

Sweeping, washing and fighting – these are the activities Jaka says she will get to do with her restored arm. Laundry might not be appealing to many, but participating in household chores is a normalcy Jaka has never known. “I am so happy,” Jaka says. “When I go home, I will work all the time because I can.” (Fanta admits she is glad for this enthusiasm.) Free of her deformity, Jaka will also now be able to go to school for the first time.

As for fighting, Jaka is one of ten children, and she happens to be very ticklish. With her new arm, she will be able to hold her own the next time she is picked on by one of her older brothers or sisters. She was ashamed to go among her siblings and friends when her arm was stuck to her side because they would tease her. “Now they will see me and say, ‘Jaka has become well!’” she declares. Then they will invite her to sit with them and watch the cars go by their house.

From her hospital bed, Jaka is all giggles – she can hardly contain her excitement for her now-bright future of playing, going to school and watching cars. But Jaka’s favorite part about her restorative surgery and rehabilitation is even simpler than that: “Clapping!” she exclaims. With her arm free, Jaka can finally clap with both hands.

Now there’s a happy ending worthy of applause.

Written by Catherine Clarke Murphy

When the bandages come off . . .

Bless Laura for this beautiful story of what happens to two different patients when their bandages come off . . . 

One of my favorite moments of a day shift is that first dressing change...when the bulky bandages finally come off and a new face is revealed for the first time.  What would it be like to see your face for the first time, after a tumor or deformity you had lived with for years was finally gone?

Abraham intently watched through the mirror as I gently peeled back the last of the tape and lifted a drainage-stained eyepatch to show the results of his surgery - a bone graft to the place where he had a maxilla previously removed.  He lifted his mirror to look more closely as I snipped the suture to pull out a drain, and cleaned the dried blood from around his eye.  "What do you think, Abraham," I asked.

He was very serious as his hand reached up to hold the mirror closer to his new cheek, the cheek that yesterday was flat, and he looked up at me with the beginnings of a shy smile.  "C'est bon, Laura," he said very seriously, and then lit up with a huge grin. "C'est tres, tres bon."

It is very, very good.

Rugi refused to watch her first dressing in the mirror, leaving it forgotten in her lap as she concentrated on holding still while I soaked off the places where gauze had stuck, and cleaned the staple line down her half-shaved scalp.  When the last of the gauze came off I encouraged her to look and look again, and she rather uncertainly held up the brand new mirror to examine the steristrips where her eye had once been.  She, too, broke into a smile and reached up a hand as if to touch the tumor she used to have.  As soon as my gloves came off she was shaking my hand over and over again..."merci, merci, merci, merci!"  I winked and called her beautiful, and left her admiring her new face in a small mirror.  There was one thing more that could complete her happiness, and she pointed hopefully at the urinary catheter and asked me a question in Pular.  "She say she can piss on her own," the caregiver from the bed next to her informed me, "if you can just remove this tube for her."

One catheter removal and mad bathroom dash later, Rugi was ecstatic.  She wiggled happily through her vitals check and IV flush, and hugged me over and over, then settled back in bed with her hand mirror to admire her new face once again.

C'est tres, tres bon.

It is very, very good.

Not Me!

In all my times serving with Mercy  Ships, I have never ever wanted to observe a surgery!  We had many opportunities and I just could not sign up (yes, that would be me - the CPR-PR instructor who also teaches First Aid and Oxygen Administration) - totally unlike Marion MacIntosh from British Columbia . . .

Not only did I get to observe a surgery…… I bless fully got observe 4 surgeries! A practice not normally given to any… one right after the other. 

A Goiter (def: an enlargement of the thyroid gland that is commonly visible as a swelling of the anterior part of the neck that often results from insufficient intake of iodine and then is usually accompanied by hypothyroidism) was the first one. It was a small one (about the size of your fist). I thought I might be passing out a bit as nauseous-ness started waving over me. But the worst I had to contend with was my sneeze! 

The next surgery would have been grotesque to see if I had seen the patient beforehand. He was from Sierra Leon, he was attacked by Rebels when the war had broken out. They literally had put a pad lock on his mouth, going right through his upper pallet and added few other atrocities. For a moment, I saw some real mercy and the ministry of Mercy Ships. They do help come rescue those forgotten or distressed. This has not slackened me in any way in ceasing to pray for Authority! 

Lunch broke the momentum, as my hostess came to release me. She said “as you come back from lunch we will bring you in to see a Max-fax!. I was delighted! 

Arriving back at the OR entry, we were ushered into the Head Surgeon’s room already underway with the Max Fax! This would be Dr. Gary Parker (you saw him on 60 Mins.). He was working on a woman who had come in earlier this year with a tumor (the size of a football) on the side of her neck (I had heard about her from my roommates earlier on this year). Now I was seeing the plastic surgery/ re-shaping her face. He cut & used a skin graft w/muscle from the shoulder area to reset the jaw and cheek. Amazing! What I also noticed in his OR room…., the Presence of God there. In the background of the room played heavenly worship music! Oh boy! 

I was exhilarated to hear that I would be attending yet another surgery. This one had to do with a jaw that was to be re-constructed around a Titanium plate. If they don’t do this, chances are years down the road the metal jaw will start to break through the skin. So God is His Wisdom gave us extra bone at the hip (“spare parts” it will regrow itself) and that portion was transferred to the chin. Amazingly, even though they had to break up the bone to shape it in the chin area, it will grow back as one solid piece around the Titanium plate in about 6 months. Amazing!

Old Enough for a Nose . . .

Take a moment to read Laura's blog post about a seven year old patient named Kadi . . .

 

November 2011...
We sat together in the back of the church service, listening intently to a three-language sermon.  I was trying to understand the Krio that sounded so familiar, and Kadi was trying out her own bits of Krio. AAmen, she murmured at the end of the pastor's every sentence, every pause, and every exclamation. Aaaahhhh-men.  A-MEN-a.   EhyMEN.  Each time she got a little louder, we were starting to get a few looks from the curious patients next to us, and I started to wonder what point is appropriate to shush a 5-year-old's mid-sermon enthusiasm.  Granted we didn't look much like your usual church-goers.  I was in scrubs with my hair pinned up, perched on a high stool next to the crash cart.  Kadi's NG tube was pinned to her intricate braids, out of reach for small hands to pull on.  The center of her face was covered in steri-strips...only smooth skin and suture lines where a nose should have been.  But we were both pretty excited about the sermon and the worship-dance party that inevitably followed.
As our ship sailed from Sierra Leone a few weeks after that last ward service, I often wondered what happened to Kadi.  Would she ever have the chance for a nose?
I asked once why we hadn't made a nose yet for Kadi.  Our doctors have creatively pieced together faces for so many.  The reason was simple, our surgeon told me.  Kadi was too young for a nose.  If she got a new nose then, it would be too small as she grew older.
I reached up a little self-consciously to touch my own nose.  What would I have thought, at 5 years old, if someone had told me I was too little for a nose.  Didn't everybody else have noses at that age, usually?
Fast forward a year and a half, to one morning in March when a tall gentleman came from D9 to greet me enthusiastically in Krio.  I recognized him immediately, but it took a little while longer to recognize the Midazolam-doped girl in the bed as my Kadi, headed to the OR in 5 minutes to finally claim her nose.  She's joined the crowd of Noma survivors and war mutilation victims here on D ward and B ward, with scalps pulled down over faces and bits of face flipped and sutured in a myriad of creative flaps, grafts, and miracle-working.
I was her nurse the next day - one of my treasured pediatric nursing shifts.  Kadi was not even 24 hours post-op, terrified and exhausted from fighting and pretty miserable.  Along with a piece of scalp temporarily down over her face to make a new nose, Kadi also had her tongue sutured to the top of her mouth to close a hole there.  Two long arm splints and a patiently dedicated nursing staff had kept her from pulling out her nasal airway, IVs, and gastric tube.  Still a spunky fighter, Kadi was not a fan.  I used most of my small Krio that night - playing guessing games of what she needed (Yu wan piss?  Yu wan popo?) and making bargains, with a lot of pointing, strict instructions, and a wonderfully serious translator just to make sure (If I remove this, yu no pul am.  Yu sabi?).  By the end of the evening we successfully had both arm splints off with all tubes still intact.  Part of the bargain was me letting her popo (ride on my back) the rest of the shift, and so I finished my paperwork and gave report with her clinging limply to my back and the NG feed running slowly from the bag on a magnet hook over our heads.
We're fast friends again now, and last week she spent the beginnings of each of my night shifts popo as I took report.  I started the shifts off with gigantic drool spots soaking the back of my scrubs, but the cuddles were well worth it.  She's full of fun, inquisitive energy, and great at the pantomime communication so common on the ward now.  We're training her as a nurse as well (7 years old is certainly not too early), and she can turn on and administer her own nebulizers, connect and flush her NG feeds, and do a pretty good oral assessment by flashlight.
Less than a week now, and it will be time for another surgery.  I am excited to hear her Krio-Temne chatter and sweet singing again, and I can't wait to see her new face.  No more waiting; she is finally old enough to have a nose.

An angel named Hazel . . .

On my way to my annual mammogram and physical this morning, I was rear-ended on 35W.  I in turn hit the van in front of me who hit the truck in front of him.  Yup, it was four car collision - and I got the worst of it!  Since I was already on my way to the doctor's and my car was drivable, I decided not to meet the fine folk on the ambulance crew and take myself in.  (Note:  I have been going to the same doctor for twenty-three years up at Oxboro Clinic in Bloomington.  Never in those twenty-three years have I ever seen someone at the clinic I knew at the clinic until today.)  I was ten minutes late for my mammo and decided with as much pain as my chest was in, there was no need to inflict more pain on me.  Instead, I went up to Internal Medicine to check in and there was Hazel, a friend from church.  Before I could tell her what had happened to me, she was called in to her appointment.  When I was sent downstairs for x-rays an hour and a half later - there was Hazel!  I finally shared what had happened to me and she waited for me to be finished with my appointment (bruised sternum, nothing broken) and she followed me safely home to make sure I would be okay.  Bless her for taking care of me when I so desperately needed it!

Now, if you're wondering where my husband was during this whole ordeal - I had left a message on his phone at school.  He had meetings, he was running late, he kept getting phone calls, and he was FINALLY able to check his messages (and found my message!) around 11:00.  There just happened to be a SPARE sub (like has that ever happened?) available in his building and he was able to come home and take care of me after Hazel left.  Glory be to God!

Celebration of Sight

While back in Krissy's home state of Minnesota, we are celebrating snow in April (right?!?), she gets to celebrate something way more awesome on the good ship Mercy . . .

They call it the “Celebration of Sight”, otherwise known as one-day post-op appointments for our cataract patients.  Adult patients are only admitted for surgery with us if they have bilateral (both eyes) cataracts and we remove one of them.  They are outpatient procedures, the patients are gathered on the dock in the morning and discharged by that evening, to return to the clinic to have the bandages removed the next day.

Guinean people aren’t nearly as expressive as the previous people groups I’ve worked with in Africa. The first several men had their bandages removed and guarded their reactions carefully, expressing very little as they squinted and shifted and moved to be examined. Then, a dear little woman of probably fifty or so years was led to sit down and I could tell she was nervous and unsure.  We try to explain to them the process but you know that many of them never really understand… I wonder if she had any idea what was about to happen.  A glance at her admissions paperwork told me her vision before surgery was “hm” – hand motions only, unable to even tell you how many fingers you were holding up in front of her cloudy eyes.  As her bandage was removed, she hesitantly lifted her eyelids and allowed the eye team member clean her face. Once he stepped away, she looked directly at me, and I smiled a reassuring smile at her.  Mama, I said, You can see me. She clasped her hands in front of her mouth as though holding in all she wanted to express. The tears started flowing, her hands rose first to the heavens to thank God and then out to me to show her gratitude.  I never thought I would see again, she quietly explained. Never. Oh, thank you God.  My tears began flowing along with hers as I held her trembling hands in my own and smiled, no more words were necessary.

The calendar . . .

The calendar says it's spring!  Even though this is our third day of snow in a row . . .

 And I'm quite eager to get outside and start the yard work . . . after the snow melts!

Not just medical . . .

Some of the crew aboard the Africa Mercy have found a very unique way to serve in Guinea.  Two mums aboard the ship have freely given to this cause.  Without being graphic, read on and I think you'll understand.

Babies Without Milk was started by a woman named Estel who saw babies dying after their mothers had died because they had no source of healthy nutrition.  If you have a baby in Guinea you are 20 times more likely to die in childbirth than if you have a baby in the United States.  That number is staggering to me.  The result of that statistic is hundreds of babies who are left without a mother and, in most cases, without good nutrition.  It is no wonder, then, that almost 6 out of 100 babies die in this country as so many babies are left without proper nutrition and care.

But Estel saw that need and with the Lord’s blessing created a ministry.  She now has around 200 babies who come to this courtyard compound every 2 weeks to receive formula.  They are brought by siblings, aunts, grandmothers, neighbors, or whoever has decided to take on the duty of caring for them after their mothers have died.  It broke my heart to see all these babies and know that they would never know their mothers but also so thankful that they will, hopefully, avoid that second statistic thanks to their caregivers and this ministry.

Driving the 45km to get to the distribution site (the furthest I’ve been away from the ship) proved a bit more difficult than we anticipated since all the lanes of traffic go the other direction in the morning. But after 2 hours of traffic, wrong turns, unhappy babies, puking and wonderful policemen helping us with directions, we made it.   We walked into a courtyard filled with women and babies and immediately our three babies were snatched up by the women and tiny African babies placed in our hands.  To say the difficult journey was worth it would be an enormous understatement. 

We stayed in that courtyard for a couple hours passing around sweet babies and allowing our babies to be passed around.  It was beautiful.  Cora, I will say, gets baby of the year award for being a total trooper the entire day.  She loved the attention and was happy to be with whoever wanted her. 

Thankfully it was not nearly as traumatic as the journey there.  As we arrived back at the ship I got the sense that we all couldn’t believe how blessed we felt to have experienced the Lord’s work so intimately.

Sometimes it is so easy to get overwhelmed by the need here in Guinea.   We have seen and been privileged to be a part of ministries doing amazing things in this country but there are still thousands of people with illnesses we can’t treat. There are patients who have surgeries that aren’t successful.  People still die.  Sometimes you wonder if we are even making a difference, but then you spend time holding babies that are most likely alive because of one woman who saw a need and reached out.  We cannot possibly help everyone we come in contact with but we can continue to touch each person that enters our life and show them the Love of Jesus.

Our Chief surgeon Gary Parker says, “We cannot change the whole world, but we can change the whole world for one person.”  If we allow God’s love to flow through us to others we can be a part of changing the world for someone and in the end we might just realize that along the way our own world has been changed more than we ever thought possible. 

If . . .

If you were vacuuming and found an m & m, what would you do?  I ate the one I found today!  (: 

Hand on Heart

Frida, a nurse from the UK shared this story on her blog today - another life changed through surgery on the ship.

I want to tell you about a 19 year old patient we discharged today. He came in with severe burnt contractions on both arms, leaving his arms fixed in a bent position. Two years ago his house caught on fire, and to be honest, he is lucky to be alive. Since his surgery, where skin grafts were taken from his leg and grafted to his arms and armpits, he has had to wear uncomfortable splints to keep his arms elevated and he's had to do hourly exercises to stretch and bend his arms and shoulders.

In the beginning of his recovery I had time to sit with him and assist with his exercises, and though at first he complained about it, it wasn't long before his attitude changed. That day he was able to eat by himself, even if it took a lot of effort to make the spoon reach his mouth. I told him that after 3 days he should be able to eat with his hands. He laughed at me. At the end of the day, after hours of exercises, he told me he should be able to eat with his hand the next day. That was with the left hand, the good one. I told him to keep exercising and he would be able to eat with his right hand after three days. When that day arrived I went down to the hospital to see him, and didn't I see him eat with his right hand! Since then I have been encouraging him and I've told him that before he leaves us he should be able to place his hand over his heart. Every day I would ask him how he's doing and he would smile and shake his head, still a long way to go.

As I returned from the islands this morning he called out to me from the outpatient's tent, and as I went up to greet him he told me he would be leaving to go back home today. As we said goodbye he placed his right hand on his heart, with a smile on his face, and I have no words to express how I felt. Thank you God for your faithfulness and your loving care!

Marietou

This is the most lovely story of one of the patients we prayed for last week and how God has been faithful to her in her life.  It's a long post by Anna, but definitely worth the time to read every single word.  To God be the glory! 

Marietou. Three surgeries down, one to go!

During my time aboard the Africa Mercy, I have immensely enjoyed caring for each and every one of my patients! However, few have captured my heart like Marietou. She came to the ship just a week or so after I arrived in January. I briefly mentioned her a few blog posts ago, but she is an incredible young woman and deserves a post dedicated solely to her and her story.  A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to sit down with Marietou and her cousin Djeneba to learn a little bit about her history and the path that has led her to the Africa Mercy. Marietou currently has a trach and is unable to speak. Through Djeneba, a hospital translator, and some creative charades, she and Djeneba were able to share a little of their story with me.

Marietou was born in a rural village in Mali to a poor family. She had no running water, electricity, indoor plumbing, or other modern amenities. According to Marietou and Djeneba, she is one of many siblings and had a very loving mother and father. When she was two years old she began to have persistent fevers and head pain, most likely malaria.  Her mother and father were concerned for their daughter but had no way to take her to a doctor or pay for medical care. Her fevers worsened. Then one day “the sickness began to eat Marietou’s nose.” Marietou had Noma, a prevalent disease in this part of the world that mainly affects small children who are malnourished and have an extremely weak immune system. It is caused by bacteria that you and I may easily come in contact with, but also easily fight off. It causes gangrenous lesions in the mouth and nose, eventually leading to tissue death. Its estimated that 90% of children who get Noma die. Noma has not been seen in the Western world or developed countries since Nazi concentration camps during World War II. Because Marietou was already sick and undernourished she was susceptible to Noma. 

Marietou’s upper lip and nose began to be consumed by the gangrenous infection. Her parents still had no way to take her to a doctor or hospital. They tried common home remedies such as putting boiled leaves on the infected tissue. The Noma continued to eat away at her oral and nasal cavities. Her family traveled with her for days until they arrived at the closest hospital. According to Djeneba, they truly thought Marietou would die on the way to seek help. When they arrived at the hospital Marietou was in serious condition. There was no way to reverse the damage that had been done, but they could stop it by cutting away to already infected tissue and treating her with antibiotics. Djeneba says that the doctor cut away the remaining part of Marietou’s mouth and nose because it was already “dead from the sickness.”

Marietou before any surgical intervention, using medical
 tape to cover the hole that opens to her nasal cavity

Marietou, although permanently disfigured, made a full recovery.  She was left with a gaping hole in her face, looking directly into her nasal cavity.  This also left her more susceptible to other infections. According to Marietou, her family showed her the utmost support and love. This is somewhat of a rarity in her society where many physical ailments are seen as shameful or as caused by demons and evil spirits. Sufferers of Noma are often abused or shunned.  Although her family always treated her well and she suffered no abuse, she was unable to go to school and seldom left her family’s compound. The outside world was cruel to her, making her feel worthless and unloved.  According to Djeneba, Marietou was always very shy and closed off, even to her family.

     When Marietou was a teenager a man who lived very close to her family came to her father and asked if he could take her as his second wife. Plural marriage is very common here. He needed another wife to take on some of the responsibilities of his compound and care for children. Her father was extremely reluctant, fearing that Marietou would be abused by the man and ridiculed by his other wives. The man promised to treat her well and in lieu of his fears, Marietou’s father agreed to the marriage. However, they agreed that Marietou would help in her husband’s compound and do the required work, but that she would still spend much of her time with her parents. Their fear of her being brutally treated and abused prevented them from giving up their daughter completely.  However, according to Marietou their fears had been in vain. She says that her husband was always treated her kindly. Since their marriage, Marietou has had three children.

       Three years ago Marietou heard of a non-governmental organization working in Guinea that might be able to help her. She traveled from her native Mali to stay with her cousin Djeneba in Guinea. The organization said they could help Marietou and prepared to fly her to Switzerland for treatment. However, her treatment was delayed because of the unstable political climate in Guinea at the time. It was very difficult to get the required visas and governmental permission to go to Switzerland. Three years passed and still Marietou was waiting. She had not been back to Mali or seen her children. They remained in the care of her parents. Then a doctor that worked with the organization heard that Mercy Ships would be coming to Conakry, Guinea. The doctor had heard of Mercy Ships before and knew that it was one of the few medical organizations working in Africa that did Noma surgery on the continent, without taking the patients to Europe. He helped Djeneba and Marietou travel to Conakry for the Mercy Ships screening this past August. Marietou was scheduled for surgery!

     As scheduled, Marietou and Djeneba arrived at Mercy Ships in late December. Her first surgery was not scheduled until February but they needed to arrive early to complete some medical testing. A series of extensive reconstructive surgeries were required in order to give Marietou a new mouth and nose.

     Marietou was admitted to D ward just a few days after I had arrived at the ship. She had been staying at the Hope Center until her surgery date, but was admitted early with persistent nausea and vomiting.  Apparently she had been suffering from frequent nausea and vomiting on and off for the past few years. As I admitted her to the isolation room and started an IV, it was evident even that there was something special about her and her cousin Djeneba. Marietou weighed in at a mere 41 kilograms (90 lbs). For someone of her height she was extremely underweight and needed some serious TLC in order to get her ready for surgery. 

     At the beginning of February Marietou had her first surgery. Using cartilage from her ribs and skin grafts from her scalp, forehead, and thigh, the surgeon was able to recreate nose and upper lip area. They then used a graft from her tongue to create a palate, hopefully allowing her to speak normally after all the surgeries are finished. Because of swelling and airway clearance, a trach and feeding tube with necessary for Marietou. Patiently she waited for 21 days with the scalp flap still connected to facilitate blood flow to her new nose and with her tongue sutured to the top of her mouth. Her skull was exposed where they took the scalp flap, and she endured painful dressing changes every other day. She continued to have severe nausea and vomiting, requiring a J-tube, or a feeding tube going directly into her small intestine and bypassing the stomach to allow for better absorption. After 3 weeks she had her second surgery. This time the surgeons disconnected the connecting scalp tissue from her new nose and moved it back to its rightful place to cover her skull. Then they flipped her bottom lip up and around, creating an extremely tiny mouth, but also creating an upper lip where there was none before. 12 days later she had another surgery, releasing her mouth slightly, but still leaving it quite small. Her tongue is still sutured to the roof of her mouth. She still has a trach and a J-tube.  In 10 days she will have yet another surgery to release her tongue and mouth completely, allowing her to speak and giving her a normal shaped mouth with a bottom and top lip. At that point her trach and feeding tube will be removed.

  Through it all Marietou has had an amazing attitude. From the very beginning, she was told by Dr. Gary that it would be very, very long road, that it might seem worse before it gets better, and that it wouldn’t be easy.  Her response to this was “I am willing to stay here as long as you are willing to treat me.” Marietou was happy just to have the chance to receive any kind of medical treatment. She was overjoyed to be seen and to be treated as a human being.  She had been denied that basic right so often through out her life, and she had often been treated as less than human because of her condition. The way in which we are treating her physical ailment was obvious from the beginning, but what has been more striking has been her emotional transformation. When she first arrived on the ship she was incredibly ashamed of her face. She would always keep a piece of tape over the hole where her nose should have been, and frequently covered it with a scarf. She went from being quite and timid, almost afraid to speak, to laughing, playing, and joking with the nurses and other patients. Her personality has begun to shine! In the midst of all of the pain she has kept such a good attitude. Of course there are good days and bad days, but you can see her positivity each and every day. She can hardly move her mouth or face at the moment, but you can tell when she is laughing at our attempts to make her smile because of the way her shoulders shake up and down. Just yesterday we had her out of her bed and she was dancing (to the Spice Girls)! Arms up in the air, dancing! Today I stopped by deck 7 while the patients were outside and found her pulling one of the nurses in a red flyer wagon!  Even though we don’t speak the same language, and very few of the translators speak her language, we have communicated much. She still has a ways to go, but I am so thankful that I have been able to accompany her on part of her journey. From the moment she stepped aboard the Africa Mercy, it was clear that she was a strong woman, but her strength, perseverance, and good humor has been a blessing to all of the nurses in D ward.

 Marietou’s cousin Djeneba also deserves her 15 minutes of fame! Djeneba is 26 years old with a playful spirit and great sense of humor. Not only has she been a joy to have on the ward, she has gone above and beyond in caring for Marietou! For over two months she has slept on a mattress underneath Marietou’s bed, helping care for her day and night. Only once in two months has she left the ship! This girl deserves big time cousin bonus points. In all seriousness, the selfless love that Djeneba has shown not only to Marietou, but to other patients as well, has been an example to us all!

 Djeneba!

I will keep you updated on Marietou’s progress. She is healing extremely well, but still struggling with some malnutrition issues. Please keep her and Djeneba in your thoughts and prayers! I will definitely post photos after she has her final surgery!

Thanks for reading!

Great Day to Get A Head!

It's been a fun April Fool's Day at our house!  Sam got the first head of the day when he put a load of laundry in this morning.  He tried to get me back by putting it the dryer but it just didn't work . . .

Micah met the other head at breakfast.  He was chillin'  . . .

Matt's head was left on his dresser and he thought it was "creepy" so he hid it in the clean laundry to get Micah and it worked!  

One of the guys will be going up to the U - he got a free ride!  Not sure what we'll do with the other young man's head, so if you have any thoughts . . . 

HAPPY APRIL FOOL'S DAY!