I've reblogged this from my friend, Deb's blog, "Deb's Heart in Africa". Deb is a nurse on the Africa Mercy and I hope her post touches you as much as it touched me.
A couple of days ago I went to the local hospital to work
with one of the nurses who is in a training program with the ship. Here are the
facts. The surgical ward where she works has 50 patient beds. There are only
four nurses on the work schedule. They work 24 hour shifts as the only nurse,
being helped by some nursing or medical students for some part of the day. Just
let those facts sit in your mind for more than a minute.
24 hours shifts.
Minimum of 50 patients.
Limited equipment and by that I mean, they have one manual
blood pressure cuff, one thermometer and one stethoscope.
There is no oxygen, no suction, no running water and no
supplies on hand.
Needless to say, the hospital is run very differently from
one in the western world. There are so many differences here that I don’t even know
where to begin. For a start, every morning after the doctor has done his ward round
and prescribed the treatment for the day, the nurse will write out a script for
the patient’s relative to take to the hospital pharmacy. It might look like
this: IV cannula x1, IV tubing x1, Normal Saline 500mL x2, Ceftriaxone IV x1g, 10mL
syringe x1, gauze x1 pack, tape x45cm, betadine solution x1 bottle. All these
things are packed into a green and white striped plastic bag and neatly tied
and carefully transported, glass ampoules and all, back to the ward for the
nurse to begin the treatment when she has time. The prescription paper now not
only has a list of the contents in the bag but also the price of each item
bought by the family. Each precious item has a price and I heard it said on the
doctor’s round, if the patient has no money to pay for treatment then they can
leave and someone who has money can have the bed. That’s how it goes.
The patients in the ward all have a story. One was picking
fruit from his fruit tree and thieves came, thinking he had a lot of money
because of all the fruit he was picking and attacked him with a machete. He had
been sliced open all over his face, head, back of the neck and flanks. He had
been stitched back together in the hospital’s emergency department and actually
looked surprisingly good, although in pain.
Another patient had tried to commit suicide by stabbing
himself in his gut, which had led to internal damage but not serious enough to
cause death. One young girl had had an abortion but needed further curettage for
pieces still left inside. One boy had somehow gotten a meat hook stuck in his
neck. Several patients had fallen out of fruit trees breaking one or more bones
in their legs or spine. One man had fractured his spine so severely they are
calling it a miracle he is alive, yet he’s stuck in bed with a spinal collar on
because they don’t know how to fix him. His spinal cord is being pinched and a
slight slip could mean paralysis not just to his body but to his lungs, causing
death. Other patients have been hit by cars or have had motorbike accidents
leaving them with head injuries or fractures. Some have had hernia repairs or
their appendix removed.
While we were walking around with the doctors, there was one
lady sitting on the side of her bed, gasping for air and crying out. She was
clearly in distress but no one seemed to bat an eye. When we asked what the
problem was, they simply said “Asthma”. Someone from the family had gone to the
pharmacy to get some medication. In the mean time there was nothing for us to
do. There’s no oxygen standing by, no crash cart with emergency drugs, no resuscitation
equipment to rely on.
I’ve seen these same circumstances now in several countries
in Africa, limited to no supplies, a huge lack of running water, power, soap,
suction and oxygen. The absolute basics are missing.
A few weeks ago two of our Mercy Ships crew members gave a
presentation with a lot of statistics about many of the countries that the ship
has been to in recent years and others close by that we have not yet visited.
Seeing these numbers and graphs with terrible statistics for overall health and
healthcare systems in these countries, somehow tightened my resolve to be here.
The presentation continued to tell us how Mercy Ships planned to partner with
the local hospitals and work alongside them, teaching and educating, running
classes and mentoring. The idea is to work ourselves out of a job. Although I’d
heard it before and knew what programs Mercy Ships ran, at hearing it presented
again, I felt my heart jump up and down and God whisper to me, This is why you are here. I want to see
lasting change. I want to see so much change that the local hospitals will be
well equipped, not just with the basics like power and running water, but with
supplies and the knowledge to use them. I want to see the staff educated, supported and empowered to make changes to improve
their working conditions and the outcomes of their patients.
The nurses that I have worked with from the local hospital are
well educated. They are creative and make the most of the supplies they have, inventing
ways of doing things with their limited stock that we would never dream of.
They are hard working, uncomplaining and joyful despite their circumstances.
The road ahead is long, but we have to start somewhere.
People are always asking me, How long will you stay on the ship? Well, how long
will it be until we can change the healthcare statistics of the nation? Of the
continent of Africa? Even though I see the road stretching ahead far into the
distance, there is hope. We have already begun the journey.
