Alice . . . Post One

Jennica is one of the nurses aboard the good ship Mercy and this is her story of Alice, complete with pictures.  Enjoy.

I’d like to introduce you to one of the most beautiful little girls I know. Meet Alisteria, or Alice as she is affectionately known. She is an eleven year old girl from Uganda. She was flown here with her dad and Dr. Isaac back in August and has been with us ever since.

Here’s a little background on Alice. When Alice was nine years old she was hanging out with her grandma while she was cooking in their village. Alice had a seizure and fell into the fire, burning the right side of her face. Her parents rushed her to the local clinic. When she got there, all the staff ran outside because they were terrified of her appearance and the smell of burning flesh. Eventually they took care of her and transported her to a larger hospital. She spent a few months there and had a couple skin grafts done. Eventually her family could no longer afford for her to be in the hospital so they snuck away in the middle of the night and went home. Her parents tried their best to take care of Alice in the village. They cleaned the wounds as they had seen in the hospital, but they didn’t have any clean bandages to put on. So they placed the old bandage back on after cleaning. This ended up causing an infection to the skin around her right eye. Then the flies came. To ward off the flies, her parents put gasoline on her face. This began to eat away at her skin and damaged her right eye even more. Her parents were losing hope, were terrified that they were going to lose her, and had even dug her grave in the village. Then Dr. Isaac came into the picture. This Ugandan man is actually a trained veterinarian but also runs a home in Uganda for children that have mental or physical disabilities, children that have been abandoned by family, and children like Alice who need help. He came alongside the family and helped take care of her. He had heard of Mercy Ships and e-mailed the screening team, seeing if Alice could come to the ship for surgery.

She came a day later than scheduled. The day she was supposed to come she was literally sick to her stomach with fear of getting on the airplane and flying to Congo. Can you imagine? Your whole life you’ve lived in a grass hut village in the middle of Uganda and now you’ve traveled to a huge city, you’re getting on this big metal contraption, you’re going to be flying in the SKY, leaving your friends and family for months, and staying on some ship where they will be cutting on you, poking and prodding on you. All this after already dealing with her injuries for two years. The bravery of Alice and her father to get on the plane the next day is beyond me. But I am so glad they found the strength and courage!

Alice was the first patient I ever took care of in Africa. She came my first shift. It was myself and another nurse, Kari, who had her that first day. I was being oriented to the ward and the hospital was slowly opening up after screening day. Alice was so shy. She wouldn’t make eye contact with you, she didn’t smile, she didn’t speak to us. Her dad knew a small amount of English, Alice knew maybe two words and the rest was a Ugandan tribal language. The only person she would speak to was her dad. Her dad is an incredible man. Very soft spoken and reserved but incredibly dedicated to his daughter, loving towards her, and patient with all of us. We tried to get Alice and her dad feel more at home by playing games, coloring, making friendship bracelets. The only games she would play with Kari and me, after loads of coaxing, were “keep the balloon off the ground” and “move the magnetic alphabet letters around on the wall”. 

At first we were doing twice a day dressing changes on her eye, trying to combat the infection and get her ready for surgery. Alice wouldn’t make eye contact with you when the bandages were removed. She would stare down cast at the floor and not make a peep. She sat so patiently and quietly while her wounds were cleansed and re-bandaged. We would always put stickers on her bandage after we were done. You could see a small shadow of a smile pass over face as she got to pick what was going to decorate her head. 

But slowly and surely Alice began to emerge from her shell. The constant love and attention that was shown to her by Kari, myself, and countless others- everyone in the hospital, everyone on board that came to visit her- slowly began to extract her from her shell. I still remember the first real smile I saw creep across her face. The beauty in that smile, the way it light up her face. It was amazing. The first time she laughed, the first time she ran up to me saying “Jenny!!!!” when I came to work, these are moments I will remember and cherish forever.

Alice had a long journey on board. We cultured her wounds around her eye and found MRSA in them which landed her in isolation for a month. This was about one week after her arrival. It was really hard on her but especially hard on her dad. Here is dad used to being outdoors in Uganda, used to being in control, head of the family, working, visiting friends and family… suddenly stuck in an isolation room. Needing to entertain his daughter and himself 24/7. They colored countless coloring pages while they were in that room. I visited multiple times and would play memory with her, blow up balloons for her, and try to entertain her for an hour to give dad a break. It was so fun to spend time with her and develop a deeper relationship with her.

Alisteria and her dad

Once the infection cleared and she was moved out of isolation back onto the ward, it was like a different person emerged. Here’s this bright, vibrant little girl running around like a banshee on Deck 7, pedaling with all her might the scooters, running around the ward until someone had to loving reprimand her, tell her to calm down a bit! We found out that she is incredibly ticklish and loves to tickle back! Her smile rarely leaves her face now. She started picking up French words, Lingala words, English words. Her speech is such a hodge-podge of different languages, it’s rather amusing! She has an air of confidence that comes from children who are completely loved, deeply cherished, and unconditionally accepted. When I worked, I would have a little shadow following me. She was my little helper and so serious about assisting me in the little ways that she could.

All told she had 3 surgeries. One to her face and two to reconstruct her right ear. I’m happy to report that she has a beautiful ear now. Her eye infection has cleared up. The wounds around her eye have almost completely healed. Alice and her dad leave Monday for Uganda. She will be out of my life physically but will always remain in my heart. She survived. She beat all the odds, all the opinions that she was done for. She lived. You cannot look at this face and tell me that she is ugly. These scars have formed because she survived. No, she’s done more than that. She’s thrived. Marinate on that for a bit.

For the last few weeks she has been at the Hope Center. Every time I go to visit I am greeted with her screeching “Jenny Jenny Jenny Jenica Jenny!!!!” It warms my heart to no end! Yesterday Kari found me in midships and told me that Alice was on the dock, had been discharged from outpatients and that they are working on getting flights home for her and her dad. I went down to the dock to see her and say good-bye. She was so excited to see me, so excited to go home and see mamma and 1 brother and 2 sisters. So excited to be in Uganda again. You could tell Dad was pleased too in his quiet reserved way. I sat on the dock fighting back tears, snuggling with her, playing music off my phone with her, praying over her and her future in Uganda. At one point she looked up at me with her good eye and told me “Jenny, I love you,” and kissed my cheek. I’m telling you, I seriously almost lost it!

Today I went to the Hope Center to see her one last time before she leaves. I gave her a few photos to remember her time on board. I wrote a note to her hoping that one day when she grows up she will be able to read it. (Uganda is an old British colony, so English is spoken there). In my note I reminded her how loved she is by our heavenly Father, her earthly father, myself and everyone else at Mercy Ships. I told her how thankful I am that she danced across the pages of my life for these six short months. I remember when I first met her in August and heard she would be here until February thinking “man, that’s a long time!” and now here it is. I will miss her so much, but I am so glad she is going home healed! I am so glad she is going home full of confidence, vibrancy, love, adoration, self assurance. Will you please join me in praying that these feelings continue all the days of her life? That God will bless her, that she will be accepted and loved for who she is, for what she has to give, for the story she has survived already and an amazing future that is waiting for her.