Serah

Sandrine’s elation turned to shock when her longed-for daughter was born. The baby’s tiny feet were twisted at severe right angles, facing inward. The heartbroken mother tearfully wrapped Serah’s disfigured feet and could not find the courage to look at them again for three days.

Sandrine’s husband had been delighted about his daughter’s birth, but he felt ill when he learned about her clubfeet. He feared her options for the future in Madagascar would be limited. He thought the disability would prevent Serah from marrying and establishing a family support network of her own.

Sandrine shares, “I was embarrassed about my baby. People were looking at her – everyone’s eyes were on her.” And Serah’s grandmother cried with despair.

The midwife was able to help the family understand there was hope for Serah because Mercy Ships was returning to Madagascar. She assured them the hospital ship’s Ponseti program had corrected many babies’ clubfeet in the past year. They could help Serah too.

Sandrine took her baby to a screening day after the Mercy Ship docked. When she received an appointment card for treatment, she held Serah close and danced for joy around her garden. Hope had finally arrived!

When Serah was seven months old, they began weekly visits to the Mercy Ships Ponseti clinic. The treatment protocol, developed by Dr. IgnacioV. Ponseti, corrects congenital clubfoot without invasive surgery. According to lead orthopedic surgeon Dr Frank Haydon (USA), this method of reversing clubfoot conditions needs minimal specialized equipment, which makes it ideal for developing nations. The key is local adoption of the program. “It can’t be guaranteed by a charity or by government. It must be sustained by the culture,” he explains.

Ponseti team crewmembers Nick (AUS) and Suzanne Veltjens (USA) collaborated with several Malagasy physiotherapists led by Dr Razafindravoanjo. He comments, “We have treated 15 children with perfect results (100% correction). Now we can treat children up to three years old. Maybe in the future there will be no older people with clubfeet in Madagascar because now we have three years in which to treat children with this condition!”

Each week’s therapy began with Serah and the other babies happily playing in water tubs while their mothers soaked off the previous week’s plaster casts and chatted.

Serah grew used to the physio team “playing” with her bent feet – gently stretching and manipulating – focusing one week on one degree and direction of foot flexion and then focusing the next week on a different direction. After each session, Serah’s feet were held in the newly attained position by fresh plaster casts on her wriggling and kicking legs.

Serah had a total of six little casts consecutively on both legs before her tenotomy procedure. This snip of her Achilles tendons allowed her feet to fully pop into the final corrected position. To maintain this ultimate degree of foot flexion, she wore miniature foot braces for three months.

Over months of therapy, the Ponseti team helped Sandrine understand how vital her commitment to Serah’s ongoing treatment is. In the final stage (the longest of the treatment), Sandrine must ensure Serah wears the supplied foot braces every single night until she is four or five years old.  Only then will Serah’s clubfeet be permanently corrected.

Sandrine says, “I was so sad, but now I am overjoyed. Now we’re going to show Serah off, saying, ‘Here we are! Come and see my baby!’ I am very happy now she has ‘real’ feet.”

When Serah takes her first steps, she will be just like all her little toddler friends. No one will be able to tell she was born with a disability.

Serah will never remember living with the burden of bilateral clubfeet, but Sandrine will never forget the life-sentence of disability her daughter was saved from.  “My mother cried before. We won’t cry now – we will dance!”

Story by Sharon Walls
Edited by Nancy Predaina
Photos by Katie Keegan, Justine Forrest and Ruben Plomp

Photo Credit Katie Keegan 

When Serah was born with clubfeet, her mother Sandrine was devastated. She worried about her daughter’s future opportunities.

Photo Credit Katie Keegan 

A series of casts on each leg gradually turned Serah’s twisted feet into their correct position.
Serah wore braces 23/7 for three months straight after her tenotomy surgery. She will wear the braces at night until she is four years old.
Serah takes her very first steps are on strong straight feet because she received Ponseti treatment while so young.

WE ARE FAMILY . . .

ALL MY BROTHERS, SISTERS and ME!

Too Tired . . .

You know you are too tired when after your shower at the Y, you put lotion on your face and then grab your shampoo, pour some into your hands and realize that's NOT what you want to put on your body!  So you wash your hands and grab your condition, pour some into your hands and realize that's NOT what you want to put on your body!  So you wash your hands again . . . and finally grab the body lotion!  I only hope my boss got some sleep last night!  And you thought it was me! 

Will You Take My Boys?

 I was asked that question this morning by Miss Meg, one of the water ex instructors.  And she followed up that question with this statement, "Matt is so kind and nice and polite.  He is fun to work with.  I want my boys to grow up just like him." 

Thankful Thursdays and WOTA!

My new word for the day is "WOTA".  When Sam went to college as a thirty-something, I kept telling him he was "OTA" - "older than average."  Now that we're far beyond thirty-something, we've become "WOTA" - "WAY older than average"!

Today, the best part of being "WOTA" was teaching swimming lessons, and yes, I talked about this with my boss!  She said those of us who are "WOTA" are truly the best instructors.  We're experienced with children, we're not afraid to discipline, we can work with different levels at the same time and we work the children hard.  I had to agree.  After all, on this Thankful Thursday,all of the students in my first and last classes passed and two-thirds of my middle class students passed.  It's going to be a big class of "Eels" next session and I'm thankful I get them!  

It's a Boy!

We are pleased to announce the arrival of 

our birth mother Allison and her husband Logan's son . . .

LINCOLN

He was born early this afternoon weighing in at 8 pounds, 11 ounces 

and 22 inches long!  

He's the biggest baby yet 

and we are excited to have him join the family!

  

It's These Moments . . .

"It's These Moments" has been reblogged from my friend Australian nurse Deb Louden's blog, "Deb's Heart in Africa."  I was sitting there, too, when the five year awards were being given.  It's precious and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Tonight I had the privilege of listening to the Founder of Mercy Ships, Don Stephens, get up in front of the Africa Mercy crew and speak to us. He brought us back to the beginning of Mercy Ships and walked us through the history of the three ships previous to the one we are sitting on and looking ahead to the one that’s being built in China as we speak. Three crew members (Keith Brinkman, Gary and Susan Parker) were also awarded their 25 years of service awards, a little late, as each of them have actually served from 26-29 years at this point. Honestly, as I sat at the back of the room, my heart swelled. I am so proud to have given so many years of my life to an organisation that speaks life, not just into the people that we are here to serve but to each other.

I remember sitting in the International Lounge, as I was tonight, in 2009, during a community meeting when the 5 year awards were being given out. Person after person and then a few families too were called to the front of the room, spoken encouragement to and given their awards. I had signed up for 6 months and 5 years seemed like an eternity to me. I was a young nurse, just starting a career that I loved. I had come to give 6 months of my time and then return home to normal life, but something in me caught fire that night and has not stopped burning. I wondered if I was cut out for living 5 years of my life in this place. Well, so far I have surpassed that and I can’t believe how quickly time has passed. This ship is my home. This community is my family. The hospital and people of Africa are my passion and love. They are now a permanent part of me that I will always carry with me.

So often I have looked around at my community and felt sad about the missing faces of friends who have come and gone over the years. We joke that the only constant with Mercy Ships is change. How true that is, but the work is always the same. It is the faces of my patients who spur me on, who have changed me from the inside out. I don’t even know when it happened and can’t really articulate what it is, but if you had the chance to walk inside my hospital ward I could tell you the story of each of my patients. If you could see their faces, scarred and misshapen and see the way that they are transformed, not just physically but from the inside, you might understand. I wish I could show you their faces every time they look in their mirror to stare at their new reflection staring back. I would love you to see their hands raised in praise to God during morning devotions, the thanks spilling out of their hearts for this free surgery and a chance at a normal life. I would point out to you the community at work in the ward, in a room full of patients who previously didn’t know each other and had probably never seen the other patient’s conditions before, but now they walk and share life together. See the two ladies in bed 2 and 3? They are lying on their beds, heads propped up on their arms, facing each other talking, like two highschool girls on a sleepover. See the uncle of the little boy in bed 7? He is the baby whisperer and how no matter how upset the child is, if he takes them and rocks them, they are soothed. The man in bed 12, on doctors rounds, he grabbed the surgeon’s hands and began to cry. He explained that he didn’t think he would ever be able to have surgery, but now he had been given this gift and he is so thankful. The little 3 year old girl in bed 10, just wandered over to see why the little girl in bed 6 was crying. She came right up to her bed, gently touching the girl, looking up at the dad caring for the crying girl, as if to say, “What is it that’s making her cry? Can I help?” Or that time after church in the ward when one patient, about my age, had tears streaming down her cheeks as she walked back to her bed. I walked up to her and tapped her on the shoulder with a concerned look on my face and opened my arms, she eagerly wrapped her arms around me and we stood there, embraced by each other, her tears soaking my scrub top.

It’s these moments that catch my breath in my throat and make me proud to be a crew member of the Africa Mercy, to be a nurse and to be here.

An update on Olivia: she is continuing to heal. We have tried a new dressing technique for her face which is working well, but still the progress is slow. Her donor site on her leg has made a dramatic improvement. Thank you so much for praying, but please do not stop yet! We still need you to continue!

And while you're praying, could you pray for my health? I've been sick four times in the last five months and would love to stay healthy!

Thanks friend!

Today!

Micah and I drove down to see Dad - or to put it more accurately, Micah drove six hours so we could visit Dad!  It was great!  We both wish it could have been longer, but it was far better than not seeing him at all!

Jean

This post was reblogged from "The Journey" . . .

Four-year-old Jean sits quietly outside his home. He takes in the sights and sounds of the village children playing football. He watches as the kids excitedly cheer for the goal that has just been scored. And he yearns for the day that he can take part in the games.

Sadly, Jean is never invited to play. He suffers from a condition known as bowed legs – an orthopedic defect that makes his legs O-shaped. Normal, everyday childhood activities such as running, climbing stairs and jumping are very difficult.

Jean is often found alone playing a small keyboard – a gift his father, Theodore, purchased in a local market to ease his son’s isolation. Jean instantly took a liking to the instrument and spends hours making the best music he can. To his parents, Jean’s music is beautiful … like that of a classically trained composer.
Jean’s father is a farmer, and his main crops are the African staple, cassava, and rice. He was able to afford a small keyboard, but the cost of fixing Jean’s legs is far more than he makes in a single year.  The family lives in an isolated region of Madagascar, ideal for farming, but where constant rains repeatedly wash out the roads, isolating the village from more developed areas where medical care is more accessible.

The situation appeared to be hopeless until Jean’s family heard the announcement that gave them a reason to hope once again. Mercy Ships was offering a free screening in their community. Jean could be evaluated for a free orthopedic surgery!

Many villagers weren’t sure whether to believe that the surgeries were really being offered for free, but Theodore immediately embraced hope. He said, “If it is on the national radio, it must be true. They wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”
So, Theodore took Jean to the screening, and they received a yellow patient card – Jean’s ticket to the Africa Mercy and his only hope for straight legs. Onboard the Africa Mercy, Dr. Frank Haydon, a volunteer orthopedic surgeon from the United States, evaluated Jean and approved him for surgery. Six weeks after surgery, the little boy’s casts were removed, and he walked for the first time on his straightened legs.

Jean spent three months onboard the Africa Mercy and in the Mercy Ships HOPE Center, where patients recover after their surgeries. For the first time in his life, other kids wanted to play with him. The compassion and mercy of the all-volunteer crew made a lasting impression on Theodore, who has struggled with how to raise a son with physical limitations. “It has not been easy up until now, but we have been shown a lot of kindness here,” he said.

Now Theodore looks forward to returning home and watching Jean play football. And he will also encourage his son to share kindness with others just as they’ve been shown kindness. Along with new possibilities for the future, Theodore imagines that music will continue to be a part of Jean’s future … just as his experience onboard the hospital ship will always be a major part of his story.

Fantastic Friday!

Oh, you know it!  We so got Matt at work this morning!  But we're going to take a step back before we talk about that!  You see, someone when he woke up this morning accused someone else of not doing anything special for his golden birthday!  You'd think after nineteen years of living with me he would be wiser than that, but obviously not!  I mean, really - after forking friends in, the toilet capers, penguin on a roof, short-sheeting and the flip flops - he should have known better!

When the lifeguards start each shift/rotation, they have to do a check of the pool.  Just before Matt came in this morning, we put the shadow doll (a black life-size mat that looks like a person) in the therapy side of the leisure pool.  Matt did his check and then saw the shadow, but it didn't look right!  I guess those "Happy Birthday, Matt!" signs on it threw him off.  Finally, he blew his whistle and pointed at the shadow.  Our supervisor motioned for him to go in and rescue.  The look on his face when he read, "Happy Birthday, Matt!" was priceless!  We were laughing so hard because all of the staff who were working were in on it and we were just waiting for him to find it!  

Poor guy!  He got sung to twice by the water ex classes - I promised him my classes would NOT sing to him!  However, they did wish him a happy birthday and my first class brought him treats!  He also got cookies from one of the water ex instructors and well wishes from multiple people!  I would have to say, "Score!" 

Thankful Thursday . . .

On this particular Thursday, l am thankful for this young man

who will celebrate his golden birthday tomorrow!  Matt turns 19 on the 19th!  Don't tell him, but we've conspired at the pool.  He will have some surprises there that will make it quite the memorable day, both good and, yeah, a little bit mean (it wasn't my idea, but I like it!)!

I'm also thankful for his birth mom who chose life when she was asked to get an abortion.  She's due any day now with a little boy and we're all hoping he comes tomorrow!  Wouldn't that be fun - to be birthday twins with your little brother?  

Someone say, "Amen!" 

Arg! Go Figure!

Ever since "the fall", my left heel has been bothering me and it's simply gotten worse, not better.  Fast forward to February (almost ten months later!) when I went to visit my foot doctor for the second time:

Dr. Ebeling:  Requests an MRI on my left heel.

Worker's Comp:   The MRI is not authorized.  I need to complete conservative care first which is PT.

Dr. Ebeling:  Okays PT.

Margo:  Makes PT appointment and notifies worker's comp of dates and times.

Workers Comp:  They need the doctor's order/PT request and will review it for authorization for PT.

What?  Dr. Ebeling requested an MRI which they denied!  And now they need to authorize what they told me I needed to do?  Go figure . . . I can't!

Happy Monday!

Happy Valentine's Day!

If we stay amazed at the things 

God is doing in our lives -

even the little things - 

we will never be without hope!

Belated Fried Friday . . .

You know it had to be a Friday when the pool was packed (Apple Valley Schools had the day off), the two sets of twins had more energy than Center Point, and my criers added screaming to their cries!  It was inevitable then, that when I took my swimsuit off in the shower, I would discover the ENTIRE bum seam was ripped and wide open!  My only hope is it happened in the shower and not the pool!

Victorine and Tahiry . . .

Today's post was reblogged from "Into the Deep".

 

Victorine steps off the bus and surveys the site in front of her: Hospital Manara-Penitra, the site of Mercy Ships screening. It is five on a Wednesday afternoon and Mercy Ships staff has left for the day but they will return early tomorrow to continue evaluating patients. In a developing country like Madagascar, where healthcare is only available for the wealthy, what Mercy Ships offers – a free surgery – is far more than people like Victorine can ever hope for. The lines to receive an evaluation can sometimes reach a thousand people but Victorine is here because there isn’t anything she wouldn’t do for her children. She gathers her blankets and picks a spot on the lawn and settles into her “bed” for the night. Here on the lawn of the hospital, alongside the busy capital city streets she will wait overnight in the freezing temperatures because her son, Tahiry, is one of millions of people in need of specialized healthcare.

As Tahiry approached his second birthday, Victorine noticed something a bit odd – Tahiry’s legs were taking the shape of the letter “O”. She wasn’t sure what to make of the condition and when it didn’t improve, she brought Tahiry to the local hospital where doctors explained that his legs could only be straightened through an expensive surgery. The total cost of the surgery would be around one million Ariary (approximately $315USD).

As a single mother of two children, Victorine struggled to provide enough food for her children. She worked half the year farming and the other half the year she washed clothes for extra income. She could work her hands raw and she would never come close to saving that kind of money.

“Sometimes I look at him playing with the other kids and he is different because of his legs,” she shares. “I’m sad to look at him.”

For over two years, Victorine searched for a solution to what she felt was a desperate situation. When Tahiry was five years old, Victorine had new reason to hope. She heard through family living in Toamasina that there was a hospital ship visiting that offered free specialized surgeries. However, when inquiries were made on Tahiry’s behalf, the surgery schedule was full. Victorine was heartbroken. Had her son’s only chance for healing slipped away from her?

Relatives told her not to be discouraged as there were rumors that the ship would return after a brief time away. They were right! The Africa Mercy returned for a second season of service in Madagascar and Victorine was determined that this time Tahiry would be evaluated for a free orthopedic surgery. Her determination paid off.

Tahiry was one of over 100 orthopedic surgeries performed in a two-month period by Dr. Frank Haydon, a volunteer orthopedic surgeon from the United States. Tahiry’s rambunctious nature made him unlike any other orthopedic patient. Although confined to casts for six weeks after his surgery, more than once Tahiry returned for new casts as he wore out his casts all the way down to the bandage wrapping. His physical therapists couldn’t hide their amusement – as soon as Tahiry was out of casts, the challenge would be to keep him from re-breaking his bones.

Alongside Tahiry through the surgery, all the cast changes and the hours of physical rehab was his mother, who encouraged her son every step of the way and was willing to go as far as she needed to for his straight legs. Now that Tahiry’s legs are fully healed and restored, Victorine looks to his future with a renewed hope.

“My first goal now is to send him to school. My hope for him when he is older is, I would like him to have his own business. I don’t want him to struggle like I do. Now perhaps, he won’t have to.

With legs that can now carry him Tahiry will no longer struggle to go to school, which is the first step towards the future that Victorine hopes for him.

Outrageously Thankful Thursday . . .

Why have just a Thankful Thursday when you can have an Outrageously Thankful one?  Makes you think, doesn't it?  You can be thankful . . .

• that when the dog rolled in something dead on her morning walk, Micah was able to give her a bath before school started; 
• that even though you swam with six different people in one lap lane in less than one hour, nobody hit you;
• that you have a house and were able to clean it;
• that you have food and were able to cook it;
• that you could work and have fun doing it . . . 

all on your birthday!

Band of Brothers

Some stories are just so fun to share!  Today's is one of them.  

In early January, our good friend, Keith Brinkman, who is serving as the Programs Administrator aboard the Africa Mercy, sent us an e-mail asking us to pray for his sixteen-year-old nephew, Jeremy, who is battling cancer and would one day like to be a fire fighter.  

I had blogged about this earlier, saying that my Bible study leader's son-in-law was a paid fire fighter with the City of St. Paul.  He put information on his face book about Jeremy and these fire fighters began to collect fire t-shirts for him.

At Bible study on Monday, I was given a little over ten pounds of t-shirts from 21 different fire departments in Minnesota, Iowa and HAWAII!

I mailed them off to Jeremy today, but the story can only get better because . . .  Lee let me know that she had gotten more t-shirts today- again from Minnesota and GEORGIA!  As she said, "Who doesn't like to get packages in the mail!"  To God be the glory . . . 

"Dear Heavenly Father, as far as the east is from the west, 

please remove Jeremy's cancer from his body . . ."

Elisabeth

Oddly enough . . .

On my swim today before my birthday on Thursday, my total swimming mileage was oddly enough . . .

 

Haingo

This lovely baby's story is reblogged from "Through My Porthole".  Enjoy!


This tiny girl totally captured my heart the day she arrived at the Mercy Ship for emergency intervention. I look up to her heroic mother in almost every way (Viviaby is about 4’5″!)

At nearly seven months old Haingo weighed only 2.2kg (4.9 lbs); the size of a very small new-born.  Her ability to successfully breastfeed had been stolen by a cleft palate, and her tiny mouth was severely disfigured by a bilateral cleft lip. Haingo failed to thrive. Her life hung in the balance.

We weren’t sure if Haingo would survive to have surgery. Pic K. Keegan

When her desperate, courageous mother brought Haingo to a Mercy Ships screening team in their remote region, her condition was dire. Haingo required immediate intervention, so mother and daughter were on the team’s MAF flight back to the ship within days.  Haingo was straightaway admitted to the Africa Mercy ward and placed in the Infant Feeding Program (IFP). Only when her weight loss reversed would it be possible to operate on her cleft lip and palate.
Haingo needed intense care and prayer to bring her back from the brink.
Every few hours – around the clock –  Hiango was fed breast-milk and supplements with an oral syringe by nurses who rocked her and prayed. Within days the tiny, fretful baby stopped her incessant crying and her mother slept soundly for the first time in many months. Little by little, the tide was turned and Hiango began to gain weight. Viviaby began to believe her precious daughter would survive.

In 10 days Hiango’s health had stabilised enough for Viviaby to relocate to the Hospital Outpatients (HOPE) Centre and mother and daughter began frequent visits to the IFP. The dietitian helped Viviaby understand how to effectively feed her baby and provided her with the supplies and equipment she needed. Haingo’s gradual weight gain was monitored and celebrated. Mother and baby relaxed into a nurturing environment.

Haingo’s life was sustained her mother’s tenacious love. Pic: Katie Keegan

Haingo began to reach her developmental milestones as her growth slowly progressed. The dietitian and Viviaby worked together week after week, reaching towards twin goals. When Haingo weighed 3.5kg she would be strong enough to have surgery to restore her cleft lip, but she had to be ten months to have surgery to restore her palate.

The scales were tipping. Haingo’s steady weight gain over the next five months brought her to health in a myriad of ways. She began to sit up, she sprouted teeth, she started waving goodbye and played peek-a-boo. Each of these baby milestones were a precious gift to Viviaby who had feared for her daughter’s life. The proud Malagasy Mumma simply beamed when chubby Haingo hit the ‘normal weight for height’ milestone by Christmas. Haingo was thriving.
The day of Haingo’s cleft lip and palate surgery finally arrived.  Viviaby glowed as she carried her daughter out of the recovery room afterwards. “She is beautiful!” was all Viviaby managed to say. She was overwhelmed at the complete transformation in her daughter’s appearance. “She doesn’t look like the same baby!”

The clefts that marred Haingo’s face are gone and the target for mockery removed. However, the truly life-changing difference is not easily seen. The hole in the roof of Haingo’s mouth is permanently closed.

Only now can this little girl eat and drink normally. She can begin to form words that previously would have been impossible. Haingo’s life will never be the same.

Haingo hardly look like the same baby! Pic Katie Keegan

L

William: An Update

As much as Jimmy's story (today's other post) breaks my heart, William's story brings joy!  It's been reblogged from "Into the Deep."

When the Africa Mercy returned to Madagascar for a second field service, the communications team had the opportunity to visit with patients from the previous year and witness how a free life-changing and sometimes life-saving surgery had impacted the poorest of the poor. Mercy Ships eye team offered over 300 eye surgeries in Madagascar, mostly cataracts surgeries. Stories of sight being returned after years of blindness were humbling to hear, but possibly the most touching of all stories was William’s – a 29-year-old father and husband, who longed to see and restore his home and family.

On a visit to find William, the communications team rounded the corner to where William’s house previously stood and they could not believe their eyes.

William’s home was gone!

©2015 Mercy Ships – Photo Credit Katie Keegan 

They stared in disbelief at the space that previously held William’s home – only a plot of dirt remained. Unsure what to do, the team began discussing an alternate plan, but the conversation was interrupted by a gentleman calling out to them. They turned around and found a brilliantly smiling William standing in front of a much sturdier structure than they remembered just nine months earlier.

William’s previous home was built on dirt, allowing it to flood inside the home during the rain storms prevalent in this region of Madagascar. However, his new home situated itself approximately 45 centimeters (18 inches) off the ground on a concrete floor. In place of a flat roof filled with holes was a sturdy angled roof where water did not penetrate. In short, this was a much better home for William and his wife, Elisa and their now six-year-old son Unida.

©2015 Mercy Ships – Photo Credit Katie Keegan

William welcomed the team and eagerly began sharing how his family’s life had changed in the last nine months.

“I have a better life, a life of happiness because when a man doesn’t work; the family always has a weakness. Working makes a difference!”

No longer limited by his cataracts, William made rebuilding their home his top priority. He shares that when he laid eyes on his home after his surgery he was shocked at what he found.

“I saw that it was really in bad condition! I said this is my first priority!”

©2015 Mercy Ships – Photo Credit Katie Keegan

William saw the rain pouring into his home, the holes in the roof and in the walls and knew he had to do something. A friend gave him a donation to get started and with the help of his brother-in-law, William built a suitable home for his family right next to the old one.

William’s second priority was to find work. Although he once held a driver’s license it had been many years since it had lapsed due to William’s cataracts. With his new eyes, William renewed his driving permit and is steadily employed as a pousse-pousse driver (a Malagasy bicycle driver). He says he would ultimately like to find work as a car chauffeur but is happy to contribute to his family.

©2015 Mercy Ships – Photo Credit Katie Keegan 

“I feel so good and that’s my goal for our life, because, nowadays, in a family, if only the woman is working, it doesn’t work. It’s the same if it’s just the man. The best thing to do is to work together.”

William’s surgery not only freed William from his burden but it also restored Unida and Elisa to their preferred roles in the home. Unida, who was often kept at home with his father, was able to return to school with the rest of his classmates. No longer does he have the burden of being his father’s eyes. And Elisa no longer has to carry the weight of being the sole income provider of the home.

©2015 Mercy Ships – Photo Credit Katie Keegan 

Although it has been a long journey to rebuild his life, William and his family now have a hope for their future they did not have nine months earlier. William shared this message of gratitude with donors that made his surgery possible, “Because of your help, now I can see, I’m working and my son is studying. Thank you very much!”

Jimmy

Jimmy's story has been reblogged from "Girl. Nurse. Ship. Africa. Dream come true."  It is by far one of the saddest stories I have ever read.  I can only thank God that Jimmy found a ship called Mercy.

I met Jimmy last Monday. He’s 28 years old and was being admitted to have his right leg amputated. We’ve had a few patients who’ve had to have amputations and I’ve always wished we could do more for them, thinking that amputation is the worst, best solution. But when I talked with Jimmy, I realized, that this was his only option. And he was ok with it. Even excited.

Here’s why…

I came back from my lunch break and was told that Jimmy had arrived to the isolation room. I walked into the small room with a translator and said, “Tongasoa!” in my best Malagasy accent, which means “Welcome!” . His eyes were bright and his smile put one on my face as well. I looked at him and told him how happy I was that he’d come. I tried not to let my eyes drift down to his wrapped right leg and his bandaged left, or to the dirty, unmatched crutches that were propped on his bed next to him. I tried not to grimace at the smell that had so quickly filled the small room. The smell of rotting flesh. I gave him instructions about how he would need to remove all of the bandages, bathe, put a gown on, and then I would re-wrap both of his legs in preparation for his surgery. He asked me several times, “So I need to take the bandages off?”, “Are you sure you want me to take them off?”. I knew that he was embarrassed by the severity of his wounds, that he wanted to protect me from seeing what lie beneath the dirty bandages. I reassured him and told him as soon as he was finished bathing I would be there to cover the wounds again.

I was called back into the room by my translator when Jimmy was finished. I prepared myself for what I’d briefly seen in his pre-operative photo, but seeing it in person was different. I walked  in the room, and my breath caught in my throat at the site of his grossly infected right leg. The wound started mid-way down his calf and extended to the tips of his toes. Both bones of the lower leg were exposed and the wound had warped and twisted his foot into a gnarly shape. There was raw flesh, dead tissue, and a smell that would knock you over. All I could think was, “How is this boy not dead from sepsis?”, “How on EARTH did this get so bad?” I did all that I could to keep my composure, wanting Jimmy to know that it didn’t bother me. I gently wrapped up his leg with several rolls of Kerlix and then put a plastic bag over it and taped it just above the wound, where they would make the amputation. The left leg was no where near as bad, compared to the right, but bad enough that it would need to be debrided of dead tissue and a wound vac placed, to aid in healing so a skin graft could later be placed. I wrapped that one as well, then sat at a chair next to his bed, prepared to start his IV, and asked him his story.

Through animated facial expressions and hand gestures Jimmy’s story unraveled. For as long as he could remember, he’d been un-liked by his step mother. When he was 12 years old he got into an argument with her about something trivial. She grabbed him and held him over the cooking fire that they’d had burning in their home. Unable to hold him there on her own due to his attempts at freeing himself, his father stepped in and helped. And there they held his legs in the fire until they were burned. His burns never healed, they got infected, and have been for the past 13 years.

For 13 years, over HALF of his life, he’s been in pain. The kind of pain that happens when you have a burn that goes as deep as your bones. The kind of pain you have when a wound gets infected to the point of never healing. The kind of pain your heart endures when you yourself can’t bear the smell that is coming from your own body and know that others can’t either. The kind of pain you have when you’re homeless and spend your nights alone outside Bazaar Be, the local market..

---

I went to see Jimmy the day after his surgery and as soon as I walked in the door he gave me the biggest smile. I walked to his bed seeing the stump that was now his right leg, and reached for his hand. “Tsara Be?” (Is it good?) I asked.  And he replied, with the biggest smile on his face, “Faly Be! Faly, Faly, Faly, Faly!” (I’m so happy! Happy, happy, happy, happy!). He told me through a translator that he finally has no pain. That for  the first time in 13 years he doesn’t feel pain from those gruesome burns, from that moment his family betrayed him and held him over a fire. My eyes filled with tears seeing the relief that he held, seeing the absolute joy that embodied him.

Jimmy will leave here with a new life. He’ll be fitted with a prosthetic and taught how to use it. His left leg will heal with time and a fresh skin graft will cover the old open wound that once plagued him. He’ll leave here with the new Bible that he’s already making his way through. He told me he tries to read it every day. I looked in his eyes and told him, “So good, keep reading it.. It’s so good for your heart”.

 

I am in awe of how the Lord has brought hope back in to this man’s life; and in further awe that He has allowed me to be a part of that story. I pray that Jimmy will go on to “live a life worthy of the calling he has received” (Eph 4:1). That he will never forget the Lord’s redemption in his life. That he would give all credit to his Father. Not the one who helped scald his legs, but the One who has been in his every moment. The One who held him each night as he slept alone at Bazaar Be, the One who helped him endure the unimaginable pain, and the One who now brought him hope and a new life. The Father who IS hope.

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure” Hebrews 6:19

Fried Fridays!

To go with "Thankful Thursdays", I think I almost need "Fried Fridays".  It started out great - my chiro went to bat for me and was able to extend my chiropractic insurance because I hadn't used it while I was seeing him under Worker's Comp.  Then I went to work.  

After thirty minutes with the two sets of twins where we discovered the lap pool was colder than normal, I spent thirty minutes with four boys - two crying, two not.  Did I mention two non-stop criers?  With real tears and boogers and everything?  One more class and the showers were cold . . . arg!  And now I have to do mid-session reports on a fried Friday!

Thankful Thursday!

Today, I'm thankful for the little things - that I didn't have to scoop snow because it had all melted before I got home from work; that I had two students swim across the pool on their backs and fronts at lessons this morning and can now move up to the next level; and that Micah is having so much fun with my new vacuum cleaner that I haven't gotten to use it yet! 

Clementine

Today's post is reblogged from "Into the deep" - a lovely story of a young girl who used to have a cleft lip palate!

Eight-year-old Clementine browses through the display of earrings. The choices are endless. She finally settles on a dangling pair that has a silver top and a pink stone bottom. As she puts them up to her ear lobes, she beams up at her father, Frederic. His heart melts, recalling that just six weeks ago, his daughter had a very different look. He returns her smile and says, “Every time you see these earrings, you’ll remember our journey and adventure.”

 

Seven months earlier, adventure was as remote from Clementine’s mind as her village is located. It’s not easy living in a village in Madagascar that is at least a three-day walk from the closest major village. In school, Clementine had heard about cities bustling with traffic and markets. She had even studied about vast oceans that stretch as far as the eye can see. But Clementine had never seen such things.

Clementine’s family lives a very simple life farming beans, rice and peanuts. Excitement and adventure are not the only things far from Clementine’s life; accessible healthcare is also beyond her reach. Born with a bilateral cleft lip and palate – two splits on her upper lip to her nose and a hole in the roof of her mouth, Clementine found eating and speaking very difficult. Local doctors explained to Frederic that the only thing that could fix Clementine’s lip and palate was a very costly surgery in a hospital far from their village.

That Clementine survived to her eighth birthday was nothing short of miraculous. Feeding cleft lip and palate babies is very difficult. Many suffer from a lack of nutrition and die. Despite her physical challenges, Clementine survived and did as well as she could in school. However, her deformity made her an outcast; especially among her peers, who often made fun of her. The teasing was difficult for Frederic to hear, but even more painful was the hopelessness.

 

"As her father I’m sad I can’t protect her from (the teasing),” shared Frederic. “We couldn’t do anything, we live so far away!”

Although the situation was bleak, a group of unlikely visitors from HeliMission cast hope. Heli Mission is a non-profit organization that delivers help to remote locations like Clementine’s village. Volunteers with the organization spotted Clementine and her bilateral cleft lip and told Frederic a hospital ship in the port city of Toamasina could help.

HeliMission volunteers worked with volunteers aboard the Africa Mercy to set an appointment for Clementine to see a surgeon. After confirming the appointment, they sent a radio message letting Clementine know when they would be transported to the ship. Riding in the helicopter was the beginning of an experience neither Clementine nor her father will soon forget.

The short helicopter ride was followed by an eight-hour bus ride from the capital city. Within 24 hours of arriving in Toamasina, Clementine’s world opened up in ways she only dreamed. For the first time she laid eyes on the blue oceans she had so often studied. She also met many others with cleft lips. She wasn’t alone.

Within two weeks of arriving, Clementine had her free surgery under the direction of Dr. Gary Parker, Africa Mercy’s chief medical officer. Afterward, Clementine began working with a speech therapist to learn how to use her newly constructed palate. Years of speaking with a hole in the roof of her mouth made it a challenge to use her new palate but Clementine worked as hard at her therapy as she does in her studies and achieved great results. Slowly she learned that all the sounds that were difficult for her to make prior to surgery were a lot easier to make now that her palate was closed.

Finally, the day came for Clementine and Frederic to return home. As they departed from the market with Clementine’s new earrings, Clementine hugged her father tightly. His courage and sacrifice in bringing her to the ship had made her new life possible. She would never forget this daddy-daughter adventure, the adventure that changed her life.

Waiting and Wondering . . .

Waiting . . . 

For worker's comp to approve the MRI on my left heel so we can discover why I am in so much pain from my tumble bumble in April!

Wondering . . .

How I got my driver's license today as the lady said to me, "You missed a lot of the letters!"

Due Date!

Today is Jessica's due date!  She and her husband are expecting their first child - and he's due today!  Jessica and I have been swimming together for two or three years and we swam together this morning - while the lifeguards all freaked out!  After all, today IS Jessica's due date and we all know how baby's show up on their due date!

Pray for Thomas

Today's post is reblogged from "girl.nurse.ship.africa.dreamcometrue".  When you read it, will you take a moment at the end and imagine Thomas' jaw in the hand of our Savior and pray for healing . . .

I’m a pediatric nurse at heart, with a few years of women’s health experience thrown in there. But there’s an old man in the corner bed who’s stolen, and broken, my heart. He’s 65 years old, and by circumstances that are out of his control he’s been on the ward for about 4 weeks now; 3 more than he’d planned on. I’m sure if you’d asked him, he would wonder if coming to the ship was the right decision, and that’s why it hurts so much to see him every day, with his head in his hands, massaging the headache that’s formed behind his eyes.

Thomas had a large mandible tumor that had been growing on the right side of his jaw for the past few years. It wasn’t a giant tumor, not like some that we’ve seen. But big enough that taking it out involved removing half of his jaw bone, and replacing it with a titanium plate. A pretty common procedure here on the Africa Mercy. Jaw bone and tumor come out, titanium plate goes in, the patient stays for 7-10 days then goes home and returns in 3 months to have a bone graft from his hip placed onto the titanium plate so that new bone can grow. That’s how it should work at least. But sometimes, wounds break down. Sometimes years and years of malnutrition effects one’s ability to heal, and sometimes, us nurses find ourselves at handover every day praying for a wound to close, and yet it gets bigger and bigger.

Thomas’s incision had opened up to the point that it would not close on it’s own. He had a hole that went all the way through his cheek, and the titanium plate that was put in just 3 1/2  weeks before, was completely exposed. I sat next to his bed the other day and talked with him about why we had to change the bandages on his face three times a day. I told him I was sorry that he’s been here so long and that his wounds weren’t healing. I told him that he would need to go back to the OR to have another surgery. He did a lot of nodding, which is culturally appropriate, and didn’t ask any questions. And then I asked him, “Thomas, are you discouraged?” and with sad eyes he raised his eyebrows. The Malagasy expression of “yes”.

Thomas is a man of few words, and mostly facial expressions. I feel that the things I try to say to him seem to fall flat. That a lot of what I say gets lost in translation, literally. What do I tell someone who has a gaping wound in his face that’s not getting better? What do I tell someone who’s come to the ship thinking he’s finally found the answer to his prayers, that his tumor will be removed, but then things don’t go how he hoped, or how we hoped. I find myself frustrated that I can’t do more for him.

Yet, some moments, I look over at his bed and, instead of his head in his hands, he’s got his large reading glasses perched on his nose with the arms of the glasses overtop of his head bandage, and he’s reading his French Bible. It is in those times, when I see him with his Bible open on his lap, that I ask the Lord to speak to him. That the Word would become life to him and encourage him like I am unable to do. That this time that he’s spent day after day, dressing change after dressing change, would not be time that has been wasted. But that it would be time where the Lord drew near to Thomas. Where Thomas heard the Lord speak to him and encourage him.

Thomas went to the operating room on Friday and they removed the exposed titanium plate, leaving him with no jaw on his right side. They also closed the hole in his cheek. As happy as I was that the wound was closed, I found myself worrying about him. I worry that the incision line will open up again like it did the first time. That the skin will breakdown and another hole will form. That without any shape to his jaw the side of his face will sink in and he’ll wonder if he was better off having the tumor in his face then having no jaw bone.

Would you pray for Thomas? That his wounds would heal. That the second surgery will work and his skin won’t breakdown as it’s already shown to be prone to do? Will you pray for a miraculous healing for him? And will you pray for my doubt? My doubt that is afraid that it won’t work. That the wound will never close. That the ship will sail away from Madagascar in June and Thomas will be left with a hole in his face wishing he’d never come.

I know that the Lord sees Thomas. That He knows his name, and that there’s a purpose in all of this. In every bandage change and in every day that’s gone by and Thomas remains in his corner bed. It’s so easy to want everything to be easy, to be quick, and to go as planned. But I’m reminded frequently that our plans are not the Lord’s; even if our plans seem good. Sometimes, I find myself asking the Lord what he’s doing. As if He’s out of line. As if He forgot “the plan”. As if I know what He should’ve done. And then I have to get myself back in line. Who am I to doubt the Lord? I don’t know how the Lord will use this time, but I can trust that He will not walk away and leave Thomas alone.

So in that I will put my hope ...