Brazzaville Screening - An Engineer's Perspective

I've been curious as to what happened in Brazzaville with the Mercy Ships screening that began early Wednesday morning there - or late Tuesday night here!  Here's a reblogged story taken from one of the ship's engineers who just happens to be from Australia.  Enjoy!

At 05:45 we arrived. The police checkpoints were in place - a good sign. Only those potential patients who had been pre-screened and selected by 11 Congolese hospitals and medical centres were to be let in. This would make our job of maintaining security within the screening site far easier throughout the day.

Potential patients and caregivers waiting patiently and hopefully outside the selection site

Then as we rounded the corner we saw the queue of potential patients and caregivers sitting patiently, expectantly and hopefully under the tents. My heart leapt. This was why we were here.

Potential patients dressed in their best clothes waiting to be screened

The first 10 potential patients were escorted in at 0630. From my station at the exit gate I was able to see the patients and caregivers being greeted by our amazing Academy French teacher, Myriam Kormann. Throughout the day she joyfully and reassuringly greeted every patient and caregiver directing them to the screeners. She told me she took breaks but I never saw her leave her station.

Myriam in the "maillot jaune" - what a super heroine!

Then I saw the first patients being directed to registration and my heart soared for I knew this was a sign that there was good chance we could help these people. But of course soon some were directed straight out from the screeners and my heart broke a little every time for these people.

A potential maxillofacial surgery patient

Although this was my first screening,  I had been preparing myself for the "no's" - those people that we could not help either because their condition was not treatable or not one that we were equipped to treat onboard. But blessedly there were far fewer "no's" and many more "yes's". This was primarily due to the prescreening by the Congolese hospitals and medical centres. Early in the day the yes's seemed to outnumber the no's by 10 to 1 however the final count at the end of the day was about 60% accepted. Still a very high percentage.

Fellow Australian, Rinnah Fry, was part of the screening team

Normally Mercy Ships has a prayer team to sit and pray with the "no's" but due to the limited number of people we were able to bring to Brazzaville there was no prayer team. As you can imagine everyone preselected to be screened was full of hope and to be rejected was crushing news. Some were graceful, some resigned, some disbelieving, some broken hearted and a few were angry. So  the exit gate team had some challenging situations to manage, with some angry and disappointed people. My French is good enough to answer simple questions and give directions but not up to explaining to a distraught parent why their child could not be treated. But our Congolese day crew interpreters, particularly Saul from the eye team, were fantastically gracious and calm in explaining repeatedly why people were unable to be treated.

Perhaps the ones that I found hardest to accept were the children with clubfeet. This is a treatable condition but is not being done this field service. One mama with her son obviously knew his condition was treatable and was very upset that he had been rejected for treatment. I held him for her as Saul explained that we did not have a doctor able to treat her son. Apart from one foot, he was a healthy boy and I now wonder and pray that he does get a surgery in the future to correct his foot.

A beautiful Congolese girl who will grow up without a cleft lip

Throughout the day I was most touched by the parents with their children. I was constantly reminded of my own children and how as a parent I would do whatever I could to seek treatment for them if they were sick or handicapped. I fully understood their motivation and it gave me joy every time I saw one leaving clutching their precious yellow appointment card. But it tore at my heart every time I saw one leaving without that card.

Yes!

Very happy Papa!

 

Another amazing thing was how well dressed many of the people were. I don't dress up to go to the doctor but many of the Congolese seemed to be wearing their Sunday best outfits - bright and beautiful.

By about midday we had finished screening all the preselected patients and the decision was made to check the street barricades for any obviously potential max-fax or cleft lip patients. There were several of these and then at about 1330 a young man with a cleft lip appeared at the exit gate. He was about 16 and wearing a red shirt. We asked if he should be let in and were given the go ahead. He was the last screened and put on the standby list. I hope he gets his surgery and if he does he will be one of the luckiest guys in Brazzaville. Not prescreened and miraculously let through the barricades in time to be admitted before we wrapped up for the day.

The Brazzaville Screening Team

The statistics from the day: 522 potential patients through the gates, of which 294 were scheduled for Surgeon Screening in Pointe-Noire and hopefully surgery onboard.

By 2 pm we were finished and a group of us headed out to check out the Congo River rapids below Brazzaville. These were spectacular but I found I was both emotional and physically exhausted and happy to just sit, watch and unwind. Later that afternoon we headed back to the airport to catch a plane to Pointe Noire and our wonderful floating home we share we so many fantastic and generous people from all over the world.

An African Proverb . . .

'You can count the seeds in a mango, but you can't count the mangoes in a seed'

 

Having enjoyed multiple mangoes while in Africa, we know that there is but one seed in a mango.  But the potential of just one seed . . . let your imagination run wild!

Was it really only . . .

Fourteen years ago yesterday 

that we were awaken bright and early in the morning

with a phone call from our social worker saying,

"Allison is in labor!"

Micah invited a few friends over after school to help her celebrate

 and we had a delightful afternoon at "Manic Ceramic."

We'll find out next Thursday what these masterpieces

REALLY look like! (:

 

"Yes or No"

Nick Veltjens is a physiotherapist who is the Rehab Team Lead.  Read his latest blog post for insight into what he does aboard the good ship Mercy.

The Big Screening Day of over 7000 people was pretty full on... so full on that we didn't manage to see everyone. So we had a second orthopaedics screening day for all those who waited in line but were never seen :(

One of our talented Mercy Ships writers (Grace Antonini), captured the day perfectly in her latest blog entry... here it is :)

“My prayer is that God breaks my heart for what breaks His, and that He gives me the strength and wisdom to then do something about it.”–Nick Veltjens

As you know, last week was dedicated to the overflow screening of potential orthopedic patients. The Mercy Ships’ Primary Screening in Congo-Brazzaville was in August, when over 7,300 people waited in line at a Pointe Noire high school to be evaluated. This was the largest turnout for Screening Day in the organization’s history.

Last week, there were 17 extra orthopedic surgery spots to fill, and the ortho screening team saw almost 50 people who had not made it through screening in August. On Monday morning, I walked down the gangway to the dockside tents to behold an array of colorfully dressed mothers, solemn-faced men, sleeping or crying or smiling babies, straying toddlers, and daydreaming teenagers sitting on the benches. Some were there for post-op appointments; others for general screening. The group I was looking for was of the half-pint variety.

Why half pints? Well, the Mercy Ships only offers orthopedic surgery and rehabilitation to children up to 15 years of age. Any older than 15 and the surgical/healing process becomes worlds more complicated. The inclusion of adults would restrict the hospital’s efficiency and dramatically shorten the reach of the Mercy Ships into the very high population of those in need. The reason is simple: while the orthopedic patients are young, their injuries or genetic malformations have exacted significantly less damage on the surrounding tissue, muscle, nerve and bone when compared to an adult who has lived years more with the same untreated issue.

Case in point: a 13-year-old girl with bowed legs walks in for a consultation with our lead physiotherapist, Nick Veltjens. A few minutes before she entered, a girl of 3 or 4 years old was seen for the exact same issue. Nick turns to me as the older girl takes a seat before him: “This is what ten more years looks like,” he says, dispiritedly. I imagine it must be especially difficult for someone like Nick to see these issues so far progressed. In the First World, children with such deficiencies get proper care and attention at a very young age. Here, people like Nick and the physiotherapy team must work with pioneering creativity and unfathomable strength to unravel the effects of deficiencies that have been long unrestrained by time or treatment; deficiencies that have deeply engraved their troubles into the bodies, psyches, and life situations of people.

It’s a big task for healers.

 

Especially in the instance when the towel must be thrown in; when a complication does not fall under the scope of the Mercy Ships’ abilities. It is hard when a healer has to turn to the wounded and say, “no, I cannot help you.”

“[When] I came to Mercy Ships in 2010, I thought we would be able to help everyone. The first screening day blew away any preconceived ideas I had of helping everybody. When we screen, we know exactly what conditions we can and can’t help. The tough times are when those lines are blurry. I have got a lot better at screening patients and having to tell them no over the years. But there are always those that still break your heart to say no to and bring you to tears.”

Sitting by the small screening group in the physiotherapy tent, I experience my first “no”. A little boy with big, beautiful eyes and a sheepish smile gets down from his chair and walks over with his mother to the two chairs set up before the screening team. The translator speaks to her in French. She turns to her boy and shimmies off his t-shirt, facing him again to the group. He keeps his left hand to his bottom lip, shyly, not knowing what to do with all these eyes on him.

I am having difficulty discerning what it is he is here for until I notice the complete lack of muscle tone in his right arm. I note how he does not use it, and how it hangs limply at his side. The translator relays to Nick what the mother says: how the midwife in desperation had pulled the breeched baby out of his mother’s womb by his right arm. Nick listens, examining the boy’s arm, thinking with his hands.

The nerves in his arm have suffered severely from the trauma of his birth and have been permanently damaged. After discussing this problem, Nick turns to the translator and tell him, “We cannot help him, the damage is in the nerve.”

My heart sinks.

orthopedics |ˌôrTHəˈpēdiks|(Brit. orthopaedics) plural noun

the branch of medicine dealing with the correction of deformities of bones or muscles.

Here, there is no help for this little one.

Nick tells the woman that they cannot help her little boy, and he tells her why. But then he says something more:

[paraphrased from memory]

Tell her that I believe God wants her son on this earth for a reason. Tell her that he was pulled out of her womb so that he could live and breathe because he is special, and he has a purpose, and God has a plan for him on this earth. We may not be able to help your boy, but God protects him and will provide the healing he needs in his life.

And then they asked her if it would be ok to pray with her and her son. And then they huddled together and prayed—a hand on one another—asking for guidance and protection and healing for the boy. And then the boy and his mother got up and left.

“One thing I always try and remember after screening day is that God is Good and really does have a plan for every single one of us. Sometimes that is us helping patients, and sometimes it is not. And for those we can’t help, we love them, pray for them and hand them back into God’s trustworthy hands.” (Nick)

The dedication, expertise and faith I’ve witnessed here make a significant mark in me. There is a nobility here that far exceeds the fraudulents of the same name (like wealth or power or reputation)—it’s a nobility of soul: a true chivalry that places aside the self to take on the burly giants of affliction and poverty that torment the souls of countless others.



Ok so that was the follow up screening day... I was glad that we eventually got to see everyone that waited so long in line during the first big screening day (even if it was a month or so later).

God is Good...

Nick :)

Pray-ers

My husband has a group of friends

praying for him and his classroom this year.

They pray from as far away as Brisbane, Australia

to as close as next door.

Some pray for Sam

some pray for his students,

a lot do both.

Some are older than us,

praying in their seventies.

Some are way younger than us,

just finding their way into double-digit ages,

but they pray.

We have an Anglican priest praying

and evangelical free pastor;

there are educators,

administrative assistants,

home-schoolers,

computer brainiacs

old friends, new friends, 

tried and true friends . . .

All praying from love

And for that we are most grateful!

To God be the glory!

Almost . . .

It was almost like being on the ship tonight as I spoke with people from Liberia, South Africa, Zimbabwe and Iowa after service  (:

All in a day's work . . .

I have not met Mark Dunne personally, but I know crew who were greatly excited to have this fellow Aussie and his family join the ship.  Read his blog on the crew dentist . . .

Last Saturday as we watched the kids play beach soccer I chatted to the Lead Dentist, Mark Bullock, about his week. I thought I had had a tough week and was tired after being duty engineer Saturday and Wednesday, bunkering late on Wednesday plus some frustrations completing some planned maintenance checks. Then Mark told me about his week which was the usual of many patients and tooth extractions but included a particularly challenging patient on Thursday. To give an idea of how busy they have been, they seen about 1400 patients and conducted about 3100 dental procedures in 7 weeks up to 19Oct13. How does that compare to your dentist?

How often does your dentist save your life? For most of us the answer is never. Last Thursday a patient arrived at the dental clinic after patient screening and selection had completed. However the guards could see the man's need and admitted him. Well this man had a very serious dental infection that had caused pus to accumulate beneath the floor of his mouth. Mark described it as grapefruit sized and pushing his tongue up three inches. This was resulting in his airway being almost completely blocked. The man could barely breathe and could not lie down as this completely blocked his airway. This guy was seriously in immediate danger of dying....from a tooth infection.

So the most immediate concern was to reduce the swelling in order to clear the his airway. To do this Mark needed to extract the tooth or teeth causing the infection. But which teeth? They all looked bad which is apparently pretty common. Anyway the man was able to tell Mark which side the infection started so he targeted the worst two teeth on this side. Oh, and by the way, they are not set up for general anaesthetic at the dental clinic so the whole procedure was done under local anaesthetic. Well Mark and the other Dentist - Annette - chose correctly and found pus under the extracted teeth. This allowed some immediate relief but as pus does not drain up (it's a gravity thing) they also had to establish a drain to drain the pus out which they did successfully. I didn't quite understand the mechanics of it (being an engineer and not a dentist) but it sounded challenging enough. After this the man was able to swallow and was given antibiotics then and there before being sent home.

The man was given instructions to go return the following day for a follow up check and if it worsened overnight to go to hospital. However Mark had a sleepless night worrying about his patient who was okay and turned up on Friday. He was given the same instructions for the weekend and told to return Monday morning to be checked again, which he did and he was fine.

So I don't know this man nor what he does or if he has a family. But without Mark's skill he almost certainly would have died. And if he had a family, they would have been without their primary breadwinner. And maybe others were reliant on him for their jobs too...so the impact of his death would have been even greater.