The Mother-In-Law

At Sand Creek on Saturday we had a bridal party complete with bridesmaids, mother-of-the-bride, the bride, one friend, and the mother-in-law.  We were at the high ropes course and I was launching (i.e. starting people off).  Part way through, Jake (our only male staff down there) came up on the launch pad and said, "Margo, that mother-in-law doesn't like me."  And he proceeded to tell me what she had said - and it was questionable.  So when I finished launching I joined Jake on the ground (can you say "body guard"?).  And sure enough, we had four staff on the ground, three of us totally focused on mother-in-law's little girl and Jake was saying something to me and mother-in-law POUNCED!  She laid in to Jake, "Why aren't you paying attention to my daughter?"  I calmly turned to mother-in-law and said, "We have three staff focused on your daughter.  I think she'll be okay."  Mother-in-law sat down and shut up.  Yikes!  Glad she's not mine!  

Sasiline Live!

Sailine

Today's delightful story is reblogged from "Through My Porthole."  It's a winner!

sas·sy  ˈsasē/  adjective  informal

1. lively, bold, and full of spirit; cheeky.

Sasiline’s personality is perfectly described in her name.  

I wish you could have met Sasiline. It just warms my heart to know her future looks a whole lot different than it did several months ago. Hopefully you can catch a wee glimpse into how completely and utterly her life has changed …

A small girl with a big laugh. Pic Justine Forrest

Like little girls all over the globe, Sasiline loves making mud pies with her friends. She plays soccer, too. But, in her remote Madagascan village, the children use plastic bags wrapped tightly together because no one has a ball. And just like any typical eight-year-old, Sasiline dreads her household chores. Sometimes she helps sweep the packed mud floor of the two thatched rooms that her nine-member family calls home. Twice a day she scoops a bucket of water from the river, then walks the track home, carrying the heavy bucket on her head. “The water isn’t safe to drink,” commented her mother, Joceline. “It must be boiled.”

But one job Sasiline never does is helping to collect wood for the cooking fire. When she was two, Sasiline tripped over the family fire. The toddler thrust her hands forward to save herself from falling – and plunged her right arm into a pot of boiling water.

There is no medical care in their mile-high countryside village. In fact, it is a three-hour walk to the nearest town. Jocelin was distraught and did the best she could, but she had no knowledge of what would help her little girl. The family eventually found a traditional healer who used many treatments and substances on the deep burns, but the wounds became badly infected. Massive scarring developed, turning the area across her bent elbow into an immobile web. Sasiline’s hand became frozen backwards, as scarring bound her wrist and fingers.

When the pain eventually diminished, Sasiline learned how to perform tasks using her left hand. She was keen to attend school, but she often came home crying, “The other kids are making fun of me because of my arm!” she exclaimed.

Sasiline’s arm & hand were immobilised by burn scars. Pic J Forrest

The family had no hope that the future would ever be any different for Sasiline. Then an unexpected phone call came from her grandfather. He had heard about the free medical work Mercy Ships was doing to restore injuries like Sasiline’s. Jocelin could hardly believe the good news. “We really have to go because we’ll never find the money to fix her hand,” she exclaimed.

So mother and daughter set off as the sun rose to catch a crowded old mini-bus from town. They bounced all day and all night over rutted and muddy dirt roads, venturing far beyond any place that was familiar. They attended a Mercy Ships patient screening and were given the precious appointment to see a surgeon. Another all-day bus ride over “very bad” roads took them to the capital city, and then they made the final nine-hour journey to the Mercy Ship. They were exhausted, but elated. “I am very excited about this surgery,” Jocelin announced. “We have been waiting a long time.”

Sasiline and her mother had never been in a car or used electricity, and learning how to use the hospital ship’s “western toilet” was a source of great amusement. They received boundless comfort from nurses and patients alike, and the insecure Sasiline gradually transformed into a boisterous, sparkling child.

Sasiline worked hard in physio. Pic Justine Forrest

As Sasiline’s burn contractures were extensive, releasing her fingers and her elbow required a series of complex surgical procedures. First the scarring over her elbow, wrist and fingers was removed to allow her limb to regain normal extension. Next, skin grafts were taken from her thighs to repair her arm.

After surgery, Sasiline declared with a loud laugh, “Mum, my arm is straight now!”

When she was finally able to start moving her thumb she was ecstatic. She ran and showed her new movement to everyone she could find. She bravely pushed through pain barriers and was excited about her progress after being ‘stuck’ as long as she could remember.

Nowadays, Sasiline is heard before she is seen. She enthusiastically participates in creative challenges set by the hand therapist. The rehabilitation team tenderly treat her scarring, play games, tickle her tummy, and  remind her of all she can achieve.

Sasiline is now able to fully flex her elbow. Her wrist is healed in the correct position, and exercises are focusing on developing her fine motor skills. The peals of giggles that precede Sasiline reveal both the healing and the acceptance she has found on this vessel of mercy.

Sasiline has regained use of her arm & hand. Pic Justine Forrest

Where to donate . . .

Blood, that is!  We hit the American Red Cross mobile blood unit parked outside of Culver's this afternoon - and we both got iron pricked twice.  Micah failed both pricks and wasn't able to give blood.  I passed my second one and gave again while Micah took the car and ran errands for us before coming back to pick me up.  The good news is - for both trying and for giving - we each got a free pint of Culver's custard!  Way better than the normal stale treats!  

Thankful Thursday!

I am thankful for a daughter who did not freak out when I double-checked with Elaine last night to confirm the date of her son's grad party!  It's tomorrow night, not next Friday night like we thought - when school was out and she had all day off to bake.  So Micah came home from school today and started baking cookies right away - listening to KTIS and singing Jesus songs at the top of her lungs!  What a delight!  She'll begin frosting them after supper because she wants to give blood with me tomorrow at 4:00 p.m. - at Culver's!  I'm hoping for custard and she's hoping to find out her blood type!  Stay tuned . . . 

Farewell from Deb

My friend nurse Deb Louden will be leaving the Africa Mercy to return home to Australia.  I've included her farewell blog here, reblogged from "Deb's Heart in Africa".  Blessings to you, my friend, as you journey home . . .

I’m sitting here on my bed with my last nursing shift in my favourite hospital in the world looming before me. I struggle for the words to express what I’m feeling. I have loved every minute in the wards and now I’m wondering where all my knowledge on this maxillofacial specialty will go, for it is not useful in the general paediatrics ward at home where I will return to. I think one of the things that I am struggling with most as I look ahead is knowing that I walk away from a place where I am sought after for information and knowledge of my specialty. I know most of the surgeries we do and the nursing care specific to it inside and out, but I am about to walk out of that position, to be the one again who asks one hundred questions every shift until I know again. It’s not just at work though, it’s in life. After more than five years here I have built this community of the ship around me. I walk the hallways and know who has just arrived, who has been here for the last outreach or even years before me. I can greet everyone, knowing that if they are new on board how they might be feeling and I’m able to share knowledge of how to live life well in this community and soon I will be the one who needs help and adjustment. I will return home to a physically familiar environment, but feel like an alien. I already know because when I have returned home in the past years I feel out of place and uncomfortable in my own country. It only makes it worse that I have an Australian accent because there seems to be no excuse for my lack of knowledge or confusion over how to order a drink or pay for a meal (before we eat or after we eat? to tip or not to tip? to speak English or French or Malagasy?).

 

Once I have returned to Australia I am sure there will be memories of my travels or time with Mercy Ships sparked by a conversation or comment and I won’t know whether to pipe up and add to the conversation or just to let the moment pass, knowing maybe those I am with will not understand and my comment will require too much explanation. So I will keep it to myself but then I will feel a part of myself dying. How will I know when to speak up without making it a conversation killer when the others don’t know how to respond? How many times can I say, “When I was on the ship….” Before people start internally rolling their eyes and wishing I’d shut up?

I think living on this ship, being in this community and loving on the people of Africa has changed me beyond anything I could imagine. I have experienced the deepest feelings of my life in this place. Loving so hard that it feels impossible to say goodbye. Hurting so deeply that I feel like I might break into physical pieces. The tears have come more freely, sparked by little things like singing a song that reminds me of a patient I loved.

I have wondered how it would feel saying goodbye to this place I call home. Last week I stood in front of about 150 friends and crewmates, many of them the best friends a girl could have. They are people who understand me in my deepest part. They've seen my heart rejoice and my heart ache. I stood in front of them to be formally farewelled from the ship. As the complimentary words of my amazing team leader were read over me, I could barely look up to meet the crowd in the eye for fear of dissolving into a massive puddle of ugly tears. So instead I hugged my arms around my chest to hold myself together. I pushed all the emotion down, for another time, another place, every now and then letting a tear or two slip out.

I suppose most people have walked through periods of life like this, where they feel overwhelmed with emotion to the point of breaking open exposing a deep vulnerability. I think of my friends who have lost siblings, friends who have lost children and babies, other who have lost their parents or grandparents. Most of my friends have had a deep ache of some sort, the breakdown of a relationship or a beloved pet die. The tender part is knowing when it is safe to speak up about our deepest hurts or feelings. Just as I want my friends to be my safe place for my deepest feelings, so do I want to be the safe place for them. Can we make a pact to always talk about the hard and vulnerable things together? About the things that make our blood boil? About the things that cause us to burst into tears? To not be afraid to speak.

I tell you because I want you to understand and I want to feel understood.

Serendipity

ser·en·dip·i·ty

ˌserənˈdipədē/

noun

noun: serendipity; plural noun: serendipities

1. the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

   "a fortunate stroke of serendipity"

Ah . . . serendipity!  That would be what happened when I walked the dog on Saturday past Elaine's house.  She and John were cleaning the garage getting ready for Josh's graduation party.  Annie and I stopped to chat and about fifteen minutes later, Elaine was over at our house borrowing all the decorations and stuff we had received for Matt's party last year so she could use it for Josh's party this year.

 

In the course of our conversation, Micah ended up showing Elaine pictures of the paw print cookies she made for Matt's party and last night Elaine stopped by and ordered "48 dozen cookies"!

 

We were a bit freaked out until she brought it down to 48 cookies - just four dozen!   After all, we are the Lakeville North Panthers and nothing makes a party like panther paw print cookie!  

 

Of course, our friends in Lino ordered Cougar paw print cookies - and they'll look exactly the same!