Someday, "Thankful Thursday" will actually get posted on a Thursday, but until then . . .
After swimming with six people in the lap lane on Tuesday, Bill and I were both quite thankful that we were the only two in the lane yesterday! Bill knows I pray when I swim (he loves the "brother-in-law with ten kids" laps the best!) and yesterday I asked him for permission to pray for his newest granddaughter, Alexandra. She is a preemie with problems and is looking at at least two more weeks in the hospital. He was in tears as he said, "Yes." I am thankful that I can swim and pray.
I am thankful that as I sped from the Y to Sand Creek, the officers weren't on my roads.
I am thankful that Sand Creek is always fun! Yesterday we had the superintendent of McLeod County Schools there with a group of students from a variety of schools. Chris and I had a hoot! From doing the "Leap of Faith" together to working on platform three - both of us for the first time! God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good.
Today's post is reblogged from Mercy Ships photographer Shawn Thompson's blog. It's a good one!
One thing I have figured out in the month I have been here is that
time passes much quicker here than anywhere I have ever been. It seems
to parallel the African culture in that time is more measured by
experiences and events rather than a point in which a hand points to on a
clock. There is always a multitude of people getting together, playing
games, going out, and just generally doing life together that it is so
easy to forget about time altogether.
“In the West you have the watches,
but here we have the time.”
– a local Cameroonian pastor
That being said, this first month-ish in Cameroon has been a
whirlwind. We’ve wrapped up training (for the most part) and are finally
finding ourselves getting to do what we came here to do. It’s so
exciting to see the friends I have made fully operating in their gifts
and talents. I feel proud to be a small cog in this amazing machine of
professionals daily operating and successfully running a hospital ship
in Central Africa. I’ve always heard it takes a village to run this
ship, but you don’t fully realize just how true that statement is until
you are a member of that village. We all need each other. Without
everyone on this ship – Mercy Ships wouldn’t exist.
Another
thing I had heard, but not fully understood, was that the patients we
serve are the real heroes of the story. I guess coming from a Western
mindset, even though I’ve been a part of Mercy Ships my entire life, I
have always subconsciously thought of us as the heroes of the situation,
coming in and changing the lives of so many that wouldn’t otherwise
have a chance. However, now that I’ve met these wonderful people I find
myself realizing why they are the real heroes after all.
I can only imagine the courage it must take to be completely and
utterly vulnerable to the point where I am desperate to the point that I
would leave everything I knew and travel sometimes days to a place I
had never been to be poked and prodded by people I had never met, that
don’t speak my language, or even look like me. Not to mention I am
ashamed of the way I look and have been most likely talked down my
entire life, resulting in an incredible shyness and the feeling of
hopelessness and even perhaps worthlessness.
I’ve sat here for awhile trying to come up with a metaphor or simile
as a way to compare what this would be like for someone from a Western
culture in order to relate, but I’m not sure there is one. That’s just
the thing – WE CAN’T RELATE. Even hearing about and seeing these people
through pictures and videos my entire life could not prepare me for the
utter respect I have for the courage of these people.
These first few weeks have had their extreme highs and lows. I’m
finding that it will be a constant battle the entire year between loving
and honoring the patients we are serving and the feeling that I’m
exploiting these lovely people in one of the most vulnerable times in
their life. Finding this line where I can do my job successfully while
simultaneously honoring the patients and watching out for their best
interests is just a lot harder than I thought it would be. I just have
to keep reminding myself that my job is necessary and that it can and
should be done in a way that respects our patients while at the same
time allows us to continue to share stories and spread the word about
Mercy Ships so that we can continue the work we are doing.
I know this blog was a little heavier than the previous ones, but
don’t let that fool you into think that I am not absolutely loving this
experience. I am learning SO MUCH and would not want to be anywhere else
in the world for this season. I can’t even imagine what the next nine
months will look like in Cameroon, but I can tell you that my life will
never be the same because of them.
Sam and I just got back from my niece's wedding in Yankton, South Dakota. We agreed that it was one of the saddest weddings we have ever been to because, as the picture says, "How people treat other people is a direct reflection of how they feel about themselves." Many people were not treated well at this wedding.
It was an emotionally hard time, but the bright spot was without a doubt when my bro-in-law shared with Sam and I at the reception what really happened when my sister went septic the day after her birthday (February 23). She's on the road to recovery and he definitely loves her!
I would have posted last night, but Ken and Karol kept us out far too late for me to be functional! I was so thankful yesterday to see our long time friends from Colorado!
Ken and I met in 1980 at the Navigator's TRIM program in Minneapolis. I honestly don't remember what TRIM stood for - other than what we called it - "Teaching Rebellion in Minneapolis!"
Karol and I met that fall when she became Nav staff at Mankato State; however, we really didn't become friends until we both lived out in Colorado Springs somewhere around 1985.
I know they're going to read this, so I let me put it delicately. While Karol and I were living in the Springs, Karol had a crush on Ken that I knew about. Ken had no idea, so Ken asked me out on a date when he was out in Colorado skiing. It could have been the most awkward date ever - Ken wanting to get to know me, me wanting to let Ken know how wonderful Karol was. All I can say is - it all worked out in the end . . .
And we had the most pleasant time ever last night! Thank you, friends!
This post is reblogged from "The Floating Hospital", a blog by one of the nurse's on board the good ship Mercy, Nicole. Someday, I am going to go to a dress ceremony. I can't wait!
Matakon, Jacqueline and Jose on deck 7 enjoying the sun. These ladies were our first 3 patients for Women's health in Cameroon.
In the most northern region of Cameroon, Matakon, a 15 year
old girl is in labor. She did not choose to be pregnant this young. Her
marriage to a man over 3 times her age was arranged between her father and her
husband at the cost of a few cows. Now Matakon struggles to deliver a child,
but her tiny body is unable to do so. She is in labor for many agonizing days.
The baby dies inside her and she still struggles, until finally she is able to
deliver her dead baby. The nightmare however is not over. Matakon goes to sleep
without a baby in her arms. When she awakens she is wet. Had she wet herself in
her sleep? Matakon soon discovers that she is unable to hold in her urine.
During the prolonged obstructed labor she endured a hole formed in her bladder,
creating a fistula between her bladder and vaginal wall. Urine now constantly
drips down her leg, making her home and herself smell of stale urine. There is
nothing Matakon can do to stop leaking, and her husband does not have the money
for the expensive medical care she needs so Matakon continues to live as she
is. For 8 long years she in unable to control the urine that flows from her.
Matakon during her dress ceremony,
Christine’s child has also died inside her. At age 19 she
has already delivered one healthy baby, but her second pregnancy does not end
well. She labors for days with an obstructed labor. She finally receives a
C-section, but the medical care she needed arrives too late to save her baby
and the damage inside her has already been done. She too has developed an
obstetric fistula and leaks urine for the next year.
Christine ready for her dress ceremony
Jose has never had a problem giving birth. At 53 she has
five healthy children. 7 years ago she was in need of medical care and
underwent a simple operation. After the operation she discovered she was no
longer in control of her urinating. She went back to the surgeon many times,
but the surgeon dismissed her concerns. He refused to acknowledge his
malpractice. Jose needed a second surgery to repair the damage caused during
the first surgery, but she was out of money and did not have the energy to take
a doctor to court. Jose started praying for a way to be healed.
Jose during her dress ceremony
This year in Cameroon I am working with a totally different
patient population then what I am used to. This year I am working in our
Women’s Health Ward. The majority of the patients we will serve suffer from
obstetric fistulas and have similar stories to the 3 shared above. A fistula is
nearly always caused by an obstructed labor; however, it can also result from a
surgical complication as in Jose’s story. A fistula can occur between the
bladder and vagina, the rectum and vagina or both. Women with fistulas will
have no control over their bodily functions and the resulting smell that
engulfs them many times ostracizes them from their communities. It is not
uncommon for them to be abandoned by their husbands and for them to live
isolated within a culture where relationship and community is usually valued
above most things. Imagine the feelings that many of these ladies must feel: helplessness,
hopelessness, shame, loneliness.
An obstetric fistula
is the result of poverty. They are preventable, but in areas of the world where
people do not have access to safe, affordable and timely healthcare they happen
all too often. Women in the west can also suffer from an obstructed labor; the
difference is that a women in the west has access to safe, timely and
affordable healthcare. She can get the C-section she needs in time to prevent
injury to herself and death to her child.
A fistula is a devastating condition which threatens to
steal a woman’s identity and hope. It seeks to make women weak, but in the very
short time I have known these women I have found the opposite to be true. These
are truly the strongest women I know. Despite their fears and uncertainty, despite
the distance they traveled, the doubts expressed by their neighbors, past
failed attempts for a cure, the many obstacles which have stood in their way
and made life difficult they retained hope within their hearts, they trusted
Mercy Ships to help them and they usually did it with a smile still on their
face. They have not allowed the difficulties in life to snuff out their joy.
The 3 women above are some of the first who received surgery
onboard the Africa Mercy a little over 2 weeks ago. It’s a delicate surgery and
not always successful. It takes a couple weeks for them to heal and they stay
with us in the hospital during that time. What a joy it is to work on this ward
and serve these woman. We laugh, love, sing and sometimes cry.
Singing during the dress ceremony
On Monday I was able to celebrate the healing of these 3
women and 2 others during the ship’s first dress ceremony of the year. The
dress ceremony is a time where the hospital chaplaincy provides each woman with
a new, clean dress to symbolize their new start in life. They leave the ward
and chaplaincy helps them prepare for the ceremony by fixing their head wraps,
make up and jewelry. The time symbolizes the preparation of the church as the
bride of Christ. They then enter the room to applause, cheers and song as we
rejoice with them for their healing. They share their testimonies, sometimes
through tears of joy. The party then continues in the hall and back on the ward
with hugs, more songs, tears and laughter.
Christine sharing a more serious part of her beautiful testimony.
What a joy it is to witness the end of a journey and the
start of a new one within these woman’s lives. I am so happy to report on their
physical healing, but there are deep wounds these women carry inside them that
are not physical. Please pray for our ladies that during their time on the
ship they would also find healing for any lingering emotional and spiritual
wounds they carry with them. We want the woman coming to the ship to see their
value and worthiness the way God sees them and we do this through the love that
we show. Our love for our patients has not gone unnoticed. As Jose so
eloquently put it during her testimony: “I have never seen love displayed in
the way it is on Mercy Ships….. [because of that love] I was healed even before
I received surgery”.
Reblogged from Nick and Suzanne's blog, "Nick and Suzanne", here's the story of a lovely team build between Mercy Ships, CURE and the country of Benin.
It's 5 months to the day since Nick and I left Benin- those months slipped by quickly!
Nick and Melchior prepare for an afternoon of seeing patients at the Ponseti Clinic
Today
I want to take a moment to look back at our time in Benin, and tell you
about our friends and colleagues there. In both Madagascar and Benin,
we have been blessed to work alongside amazing people who have become
part of our "clubfoot family" around the world. We are immensely proud
of who they are, and their dedication to their patients.
This
little patient was getting her last cast taken off, just in time for
her first birthday the next day. Her mama was thrilled!
In this post in January,
we shared about some of the exciting progress made by the Benin clinic.
After January, Nick and the team went on to treat another group of
patients together, totaling 20 kids. Throughout this time, CURE International remained
involved supporting the work of the clinic, and in March they brought
Melchior on as the country's clubfoot program manager, a full time
position.
Ulysse and Rosemonde carefully assess the angles of a patient's foot, tracking their progress.
Twins- one born with clubfeet one born without.
Nick and Melchior discuss braces.
Teamwork includes the patient's parents.
This little guy, ready to take his first solo steps on straight feet!
During
the final months of our visit, Nick helped facilitate the clinic's
transition out of the season of working with Mercy Ships. The team's
clinical skills are excellent, and we know that anyone who brings their
child to this team will find safe, good quality care. Once he was offered the position of country program manager, one of the first questions CURE
asked Melchior was whether or not he had a passport. He went and got
one, and sure enough they've already sent Melchior to Kenya and Rwanda
for further leadership training. In June 2017, here he is in Kigali,
Rwanda on the left, and "meeting" a giraffe in Kenya on the right:
Melchior
reports that the team is doing well, they've brought on some new
therapists to help with providing treatment. Ulysse is currently in
France doing a masters program in physical therapy, and we are very
happy for him as he pursues further study (but he still loves clubfoot
treatment!). The clinic in Cotonou has welcomed a further 27 clubfoot
patients since the ship left port! Melchior continues to raise awareness about clubfoot in Benin. Here's a twitter post from CURE clubfoot:
With
support from CURE, the clinic will help open a second location further
north in Benin. There is a need for more clinics outside of the Cotonou
area, so that good quality treatment is available in the more rural
areas of the country. The team is well equipped to share excellent
clinical knowledge with other professionals in Benin.
A few more photos from our last weeks in Benin: Last
Ponseti team dinner - Nick and Marina (ever-amazing Ponseti Program
Assistant) pass out gifts, lots of laughter, and a few last rubik's cube
competitions (Nick taught both Ulysse and Melchior how to solve it, and
they practiced during the whole outreach). Melchior beat Nick's time.
:-) In the bottom left photo is Josiane, the visionary clinic
director who wanted her team to learn Ponseti, saw value in the training
and gave the team the freedom they needed to pursue it. She was a
wonderful support during our visit in Benin.
We
miss this sweet family! Melchior and Rosemonde are both physical
therapists, and we love seeing the great things they have already done
for clubfoot kids in their country!
We are honored to call all these wonderful people our friends, and we look forward to the next time we can visit Benin!
I got into my car yesterday morning (Tuesday!) with just enough time to get a good swim in before lessons started - only my car was frozen. Like i couldn't move the steering wheel or the gears or anything. It was frozen. Since Sam had brought my car in for a tune up the day before I assumed he did something to it, so I called him at school - only he wasn't in his room. The office line was busy. He never checks his cell phone. I started dialing random classroom numbers and on the second try, I got the teacher next door! Haven't met her yet, she may think I'm slightly crazy, but she got Sam for me! And the second he got on the phone, my car thawed and did everything it was suppose to do. He thinks it had something to do with the tune-up. He may be right.
I got to the pool. There was a woman in the lap lane we call "The Tank". She doesn't move for anyone - ever. She's slow and if you can't pass her, too bad. You can swim slow too. It was okay until Dean arrived. He's eighty-five and deaf and quite the crooked swimmer. He's also slow. We now had to circle swim. But it wasn't over. Let's add Bill to the mix. He's hard of hearing and slow, too, but very gracious about it as is Dean. One mile in and "The Tank" left, then Dean left, and Bill and I just laughed and said how nice it was to have the pool to ourselves.
Of course, then I had lessons. There's one dad in my parent/child class who doesn't listen to Katie and I, the teachers, or the lifeguards. I can live with it as long as his nineteen-month old daughter doesn't drown.
My next class - Axel was back. Trust me. There was only ONE child all of last year who's behavior was not appropriate - biting, hitting, whatever he could do when I wasn't looking - and that was Axel. He pushed Max into the pool. I caught him. Mom was on my side. Maybe Tuesday was getting a bit better . . .
This morning (Wednesday), I ended up with at Sand Creek leading a team build for a dentist and his staff. I misunderstood him when he told me his name and I thought it was "Tom" so I called him "Tom". Turns out it was Todd. Funny thing was, his staff either called him "Dr. G_______" or Tom. None of them would use his given name - Todd. Fortunately, they were a fantastic group who worked hard and listened well. They also left me $40.00 tip which made my day! i like Wednesday . . .
This is reblogged from Georgia
Ainsworth's blog, "Ainsworths in Africa." Georgia serves with the
communications team aboard the Africa Mercy.
I’ve seen it on the gory documentaries, I’ve heard the
exaggerated stories of those who have had work done themselves, but
never have I ever witnessed a live surgery in an operating theatre.
That was until this week. Rose looking like a 19th century midwife, and me – gender questionable
If
one thing is certain, it’s that the cases that this hospital ship sees
are far beyond those that are dealt with in western society. That’s not
because we’re anything special here, nor does it make our surgeons back
home any less skilled. What it means is that, for the people we are
serving here in Cameroon, what should be a simple procedure when the
issue is first identified, becomes an unnecessarily complex and mind
blowing case study.
According to the World Health Organisation, in Cameroon there are 77
physicians for every 1,000,000 people. In the UK we have more than 36
times this amount and we constantly hear how much they are being
stretched and are under pressure. More people die each year due to lack of access to safe surgery than TB, Malaria and HIV combined.
Ability to access healthcare here becomes borderline impossible,
resulting in a life expectancy of 53 years. That one took me a while to
swallow.
Myself and the other writer within the comms team got to experience
the surgery behind neglected orthopedics- essentially bones. Bones
growing in all the wrong directions, and all the wrong places. Bowed
legs, windswept legs, backward bending legs. You name it, these surgeons
have probably seen it.
I ‘reported for duty’ at 08:30 ready to don my mask, goggles and
scrubs (which, by the way, are my new favourite work attire- SO
comfortable). I asked if I needed gloves only to be told that would only
be necessary if I was planning on operating on the patient myself- I’m
good thanks.
A quick selfie at the sterile threshold and off we went.
The first thing that hit me was the brutality of it all. They don’t
tip toe around the job that’s for sure. If you’re slightly squeamish,
I’d skip down to the bold line if I were you…
As they shoved (yes, I have chosen the word ‘shoved’) the surgical
instrument of choice into this kids leg, they began yanking it back and
forth to make a decent sized incision. For anyone reading this blog who
is medically inclined, please forgive my ignorance and complete lack of
knowledge here… I’m just going with what my trusty old senses gave me:
Sight: Bones being clipped, snipped and purposefully
broken. Clippers delving into the tissue of the child on the operating
table, viciously manoeuvring their way around the same way I upheave my
cabin searching for my keys when I’m running late. A piece of blue sheet
covered the patient’s face and body, removing all personification so
the rough work could begin- the one limb left outside no longer had such
a connection to the little seven year old boy under the sheet to whom
it belonged.
Sound: The thick sound of scissors closing as they cleaved through flesh. The grating of bone against metal and the ‘pick’, ‘pick’, ‘pick’
of tweezers removing pieces of fibula that were growing where they
shouldn’t. When I wasn’t listening to the sound of the human body being
tampered with, background music filled my ears instead. Yes, that’s
right, music was playing- and not just chill concentration music. Dancey
stuff. I strained to listen to the lyrics hoping for a giggle; Bleeding Love or Dr. Beat or maybe even Pink Floyd’s ‘Comfortably numb’. The entire experience was kept in time by the constant ‘beep’ of this little boy’s steady heartbeat in the background.
Touch: My sweaty palms. I wasn’t allowed to touch anything else (thank goodness).
Smell: The sterile surgical mask that became a hot box covering my mouth.
Taste: I’ve had an eye infection recently and have
been on antibiotics and drops for the past week. A medicinal taste was
left in my mouth from the dose I’d taken earlier that morning and I was
reminded how fortunate I am to be able to take medication and not have
to suffer with something far more drastic later down the line. A literal
taste of humility.
OK YOU CAN OPEN YOUR EYES AGAIN NOW
Half way through the operation the surgeon, Dr Frank (who forms half
of the Mercy Ships’ dream team with his O.R. nurse/wife, Kathleen),
looks up at me and says ‘so, what do you wanna ask?’
I wasn’t fully prepared to ask questions and was pretty embarrassed
that, as a writer, I was lost for words. There I was surrounded by a
group of experienced medical professionals from across the world:
Surgeons, anaesthetists and O.R. nurses- I was in awe at the amount of
knowledge in one room. When I eventually got round my own tongue and
spoke, I asked him if he has ‘seen it all’ or if there are still cases
after all these years that take his breath away.
He mentioned Ulrich, one of my orthopaedic comms patients that I have
been blessed to meet and get to know. I have the privilege of telling
his story. It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen before (obviously), but to
hear this experienced surgeon (who also moonlights as a blacksmith FYI)
comment on the severity of his case too- made me realise how mind
blowing it really was.
"He moves like an insect. Like a cricket. I’ve never seen anything quite like it” says Dr. Frank. “Just when I think I’ve seen the worst case I’ve seen in my career, I meet the next Ulrich and it keeps me going”.
Ulrich’s legs are the result of quadriceps contraction- a condition
whereby your muscles don’t grow at the same rate as your bones. This
results in bent limbs to compensate for the shortened muscle. Because of
this, Ulrich has had to adapt to life this way as he has no access to
someone who could ‘fix it’.
I sometimes have to pinch myself that this is my real job. When your
role involves building relationships with amazing people who have such
rich stories, you forget that you’re at ‘work’. Never have I ever had
that ‘Monday morning feeling’.
Wednesday was a rough day. I received information from two different friends that left me hurting for them. Thursday wasn't exactly a thankful day, but a prayerful day . . . but Saturday was coming!
I was at the Y bright and early for a CPR Professional Rescuer/First Aid/Emergency Oxygen Administration class. I had a blast! I was thankful for a fast moving class who had all had these classes before and I was thankful we were done by 10:45 a.m. at which point one of the ladies stayed and talked to me.
It turns out she started attending Berean about the same time we did and she was so interested in our trip to Ukraine. I was ever so thankful for the opportunity to share it with her!
Around 11 a.m. Barbara came in to do an oxygen challenge and I asked if I could join in since I didn't have to be to work at Sand Creek until 2:30 p.m. She said yes, I challenged and I passed with 80% - thankfully, I'm done with that class for another two years!
I finally got into my car around noon and checked my phone messages. Our SCA team build at 3 p.m. had cancelled, but could I come to work at 1 p.m.? Sure! I was half dressed anyway (I had my SCA uniform on under my Y uniform - after all, I do a majority of the laundry at our house!).
If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times - there is no such thing as a bad day at Sand Creek! Yesterday was no exception! The rain held off. The groups were great. The tips were unexpectedly high. We were done early. God is good . . . and I am thankful!
I signed up to work at Sand Creek this afternoon because the group formerly known as "Silver Sneakers" was coming to zip! What a hoot!
We had older adults from the Hastings, Burnsville, Prior Lake and Edina Y's. It was great fun for me as I knew the leaders from three out of four Y's (sorry, Hastings!) and the women from Burnsville recognized me as "the swimmer."
Many of you who read this know that Matt is not walking with Jesus right now so imagine my joy when . . .
Sunday morning Sam and Micah went to livingWATERS for church and a youth group meeting afterwards. Before I left to greet at Berean Lakeville, I woke Matt up and told him where Sam and Micah were going and asked him to join me for church. He did.
I looked out the front doors of Kenwood Trail (when we meet) and I saw my son walking in. I could only thank Jesus . . . and smile!
We had the most lovely morning at Sand Creek yesterday, Mark, Alan and I. We had just fun groups, including a guy from Sweden who wants to bring his designer car group out and bring us dinner to enjoy with them! Let's hope he does and I'm working that day!
Then afternoon hit. Our 4:30 p.m. zip showed up at 1:00 pp.m. and wanted to wait to zip - over three hours! We thought they were nuts! Around 1:30 p.m., I finally convinced them it was their hearts desire to zip NOW and they agreed. It made it a bit rushed when the frat guys showed up - full of testosterone and only in one size - extra large! We just shook our heads. They were so large that they determined on their own that they would help me get them off the high ropes zip line. Two of them would stop their friend and hold on to him while I took the trolley off. Believe me, I'm not sure I could have stopped one of them on my own. Tony even said, "I'm bigger than twice your size!"
Al, who owns the land Sand Creek is on, had a guest pastor over yesterday who ended up zipping and doing the high ropes course with the frat guys. By the end of the afternoon, they were "roughing the pastor" and having a blast!
Fortunately, by sending our 4:30 p.m. zip group early, we were able to actually go home early - 5:15 p.m.! Party on!
Since Annie tore her ACL and had it repaired, she's not longer allowed to chase after her dog toys. It took me almost five months, but I finally gave away her most of her toys.
Simon, the yellow lab next door, not only got back the toys that Annie had stolen from him, but he got a couple of new balls.
Toby, the new puppy across the street, got a bag of her smaller toys.
Sand Creek Adventures got her rubber chicken and her rubber duck because, believe it or not, they work wonderfully in team building!
