Fitia

I remember when we first started working with Mercy Ships.  Some of the pictures were so hard for me to look at.  These were people with diseases and conditions that weren't found in my world and they hurt in my in-most being to see.  Fast forward.  Now I've played with and visited and loved these people who are no longer pictures and what they have - that's life where they live and I praise God for a ship that comes and makes a difference.  

I write that to warn you - Fitia's initial pictures, reblogged from "Into the Deep" are hard for me to look at; the descriptions equally hard to read.  But praise God, He heals!

Fitia lets out a soft cry, reaching out for her mother’s hand as the pain around her chest and neck becomes more unbearable. Her parents do all they can to console their two-and-a-half year old daughter, who is lying lifeless on their bed. A soft hug, a stroke of her hair and whispers in her ear of how much they love her are all they can do. Over the last several weeks, Fitia’s parents have watched their daughter succumb to burns on her chest and neck, powerless to stop it and repeatedly blaming themselves for it.

Several weeks earlier, Fitia was as rambunctious as any normal two year old. Fitia loves people, exemplifying her Malagasy name, which means love. However, one afternoon, as her mother prepared a meal, Fitia’s rambunctious nature would lead to a tragic accident. In a split second, Fitia fell down on a pot of boiling soup, burning her chest, neck and face. In a developing country like Madagascar, where medical care is not easily accessible, Fitia’s parents tried everything they could afford – but it wasn’t enough. They were given a salted serum that made Fitia shriek in pain. Traditional healers sold them medicines that had no effect and finally suggested that Fitia’s parents spit into her wound each day. Three months later, Fitia was in agony and would not recover without specialized medical help.

Fitia’s mother prayed for a solution and at her moment of greatest despair she heard the answer to her prayers. Mercy Ships was visiting Mahajanga, a coastal city in northwestern Madagascar that was 200 kilometers away from their village. For months, Fitia’s family heard about the foreign medical workers from Mercy Ships that came in a hospital ship to Madagascar. They heard about the free miraculous surgeries taking place aboard the ship. Fitia’s mother knew that if anyone could help it would be Mercy Ships.

Courageously, Fitia’s mother made the journey to the hospital in Mahajanga where she was received by Screening Supervisor Mirjam Plomp. After listening to her story, Mirjam, who is a volunteer nurse from the Netherlands, determined Fitia’s case was complicated. Mercy Ships plastics program is normally focused on restoring functionality to individuals one year after a burn has taken place; Fitia’s burns were still very recent. There was the added hurdle that Fitia needed to be kept in an isolated sterile environment, which the ship was not accustomed to doing. Mirjam contacted the Africa Mercy to discuss Fitia’s case with hospital leaders and surgeons.

“It’s one of those cases that just breaks your heart. We have to say ‘no, we can’t help you’ to so many of the patients that come to us. But once in a while there is just this one, that catches your eye, and that you can’t send away.” For Mirjam (and the rest of the screening team), Fitia was that one.

The Mercy Ships screening team made arrangements to assess Fitia at her home. They arrived upon an overwhelming scene. They entered the home to find Fitia lying on a bed in the living room wearing only her shorts. It took less than a moment for the medically trained eyes to focus on the “monster” growing on Fitia’s chest. A thick green crusted mass covered most of Fitia’s burn wounds on her right upper chest and neck, the result of an infection breaking the skin down and forming a layer of dry skin and puss over the wound. Mirjam assessed the child’s condition. “At best, the prognosis was a burn contracture. At worst – sepsis and death.”

After working out a plan for a sterile environment, Mirjam received approval to bring Fitia and her mother to the ship. Knowing that Fitia needed immediate medical treatment, Mirjam enlisted the help of local partner Mission Aviation Fellowship. MAF is a nonprofit organization dedicated to facilitating, among many things, medical care for people who live in remote regions of Madagascar where the roads are non-existent. Pilot Josh Plett arranged for an immediate flight for the screening team as well as Fitia and her mother back to Toamasina. What would have taken days by an uncomfortable car ride on unpaved and broken roads took less than two hours by plane.

Fitia was placed in isolation on the ship to prevent the spread of infection not only to her but also and other patients. She underwent surgeries to clean the burn and was given a strong dose of antibiotics to fight the infection ravaging her body. Combined with good nutrition and the great love and care that Mercy Ships nurses are known for, Fitia’s mischievous personality very quickly came back to life.

In the months that followed, Fitia’s mother was been unable to express her gratitude to Mercy Ships and MAF for saving her daughter’s life. During the darkest moments she boldly prayed that she would be able to see Fitia grow up. It was a courageous prayer at a time when so many friends and family members said that the little girl would surely die. Thanks to the partnership between MAF and Mercy Ships, Fitia’s mother now has hope for the future that her daughter will pursue medicine and give back to others. Perhaps one day her daughter will have the same opportunity that Mirjam did where that one case touches her heart and she can save a life.

Mirjam shares that the Fitias of the world make her job the best in the world. “What a blessing to be able to work together with MAF to make these things possible.”

   

Lalao's Burden

Today's story is reblogged from "Through My Porthole" . . .

We are similar ages, but our lives are worlds apart. As Lalao shared her story with me, I was shocked by the injustices she encountered before finally receiving her healing!

It seemed like a small thing, so Lalao paid scant attention to the small bump on her face. Instead of disappearing over time as she expected, the swelling on the Malagasy school teacher’s face grew and grew. Over 14 years the benign tumour developed until it resembled a huge bag of marbles hanging from her cheek. The growth did not hurt, and amazingly her school children just ignored the strange sight. Lalao and her husband Albert are well-liked and respected by their small community, so people looked beyond her odd appearance. Lalo simply donned a scarf and continued to go about the village.

A CAT scan confirmed Lalao’s tumour was operable. Pics K.Keegan, R.Plomp

The day came when Lalao’s burden prevented her from turning her head to the right. She was unable to sleep comfortably. She could no longer help in the garden to provide food for their family. So the 50-year-old began searching for help to eradicate the parotid tumor taking over her life.

Lalao and Albert traveled to a city hospital and were assured Lalao was a candidate for surgery. They paid five years’ savings up front for the operation then went home to await the appointment. They waited and waited, finally returning to the facility only to be told it was no longer possible to perform the operation. The couple were not able to retrieve their payment, and were sent to another hospital. Again they paid 400,000 Ariary-ariary to be added to the surgical list. Again, the promised appointment never eventuated. Their finances were exhausted and Lalao was deeply discouraged. She gave up hope of ever finding help, but Albert was determined to keep looking.

The couple were astonished when a sick baby from their village returned from the Mercy Ship with his tumor completely gone. They watched a TV program about Mercy Ships and knew they had found their answer at last.

Lalao went to a Mercy Ships screening day in the nearest city but the number of hopefuls already in line seemed endless. She returned the next day, and again there were hundreds of people ahead of her in the line. They had disabilities and conditions she had never seen before. Lalao was encouraged, “They can treat people like me!” she thought. “Even if I have to be in line for two weeks, I’m going to wait!”

So Lalao joined the line at three the next morning. It was cold in the mountains, and at least two hundred people were waiting before her. Eight hours later Lalao gave her medical history to the team. She was carefully examined and in 90 minutes she held the treasured appointment card in her hand.

The sale of a precious pig paid for their transport to the Mercy Ship docked at the coast. After so many disappointments, hope and healing was finally at hand.

Lalao was full of smiles as she prepared for surgery. The next morning she managed to say, “It was not painful! I just woke up and it was gone!”

Albert is overjoyed his wife is rid of the 5kg (11 pound) growth. “The way Mercy Ships is working is simple and really good,” he says. “It is so amazing they could remove it in one surgery. I was so happy I cried when Lalao came back from the operating room.”

Lalao & Albert ready to head home. Pic Ruben Plomp;

In just a few days Lalao could see great improvement. “It’s looking good,” she said. “Now I can turn my head! Before surgery I couldn’t look to the right. I am free of that big mass. I am very, very happy. I’m in good health and now I can turn my neck.”

“When we go back home we will share this story in the village,” promises Albert. “Everyone knew what the tumor was like – it had been there for 15 years! We will tell people Mercy Ships removed the tumor and if you have this kind of problem they can help you too.”

From my western perspective I was a bit disappointed, wishing Lalao’s result was more perfect. Her facial muscles had been stretched by the enormous weight that hung on them for so long, and her nerves needed to heal.  She declared,  “I am happy! Very, very, very happy. My face will need some exercise!” Her crooked half-smile masked her utter contentment.

Thankful Thursday

There is so much to be thankful for on this particular Thursday - the sun shone!  I had no cavities!  I had the lap lane to myself after twenty laps!  But even more, I am thankful for . . .

Seth, our neighbor who is a senior in high school, who faithfully picks Micah up for youth group and Fellowship of Christian Athletes and Faith Club - even on his birthday!  Thank you, Seth!

The water features at the Y!  Today was "Have Fun At Work" Day according to KARE 11, so we tried to think of something fun to do with our classes.  And we came up with turning on the water features.  It was a hoot!  Most of our kids had never played in them.  The smiles were precious, the giggles joyful and the fun?  Never-ending!

God is having fun . . .

In 2007, we met Keith aboard the African Mercy while docked in Monrovia, Liberia.  Keith is in charge of Mercy Ministries and sends crew out to visit orphanages, prisons, the disabled, agricultural sites and more.  We met Keith because our friends from New Zealand, Faye and Trevor, wanted us to give him their greetings and we've been friends ever since!  

Fast forward to 2016.  Keith sent us an e-mail asking us to pray for his 16-year-old nephew, Jeremy, who is the same age as Micah and lives in Indiana.  Jeremy is battling cancer.  Jeremy dreams of becoming a firefighter one day.  Jeremy, for now, would like to collect ONE fire department t-shirt from each of the fifty states in the United States.

My Bible study leader's son-in-law is a paid firefighter in St. Paul as well as a volunteer firefighter in Lakeville.  She shared with him Jeremy's desire for a fire department t-shirt from each of the states and how he doesn't have ONE from Minnesota yet.

Word's out that these men who risk their lives to fight fires also love to GIVE and support.  There just may be way more than ONE t-shirt in Jeremy's collection from Minnesota.  And I think that's A-okay because God loves to bless.   And I think He's having fun drawing these men's hearts together to support a sixteen-year-old who has a dream, yet is battling cancer.  To God be the glory . . . 

Stay tuned for a specific number.

Travel from Maroantsetra

Today's post was reblogged from "Monica in Madagascar" sharing the story of one group's travel to the ship.  As you read their amazing journey, may your heart ache with mine as you find out what scared them the most.

The following is a story about the most recent arrival of OBF patients, written by Mike Broadhurst, the Hope Centre facilitator. I have not met this man but he seems to have a huge heart for the local people. I would imagine he organizes all the patients coming and going to and from the Hope Centre, as well as many other responsibilities I would never even think of. His story is inspiring and nearly brought me to tears. These patients are some of the toughest and strongest women I have ever seen. Hope you enjoy.  

Dear Friends,

     We work side-by-side and we share many of the same goals and desires. From Keith to Sarah, Lizzy to Lindsay, Martha to Mirjam, Chris to Ria, we are all inextricably tied together in God’s desires. I’m sending you this tale of 15 women as a gentle encouragement of the great work you are doing in the Name of Jesus Christ.

Jesus said, “…Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” Luke 6:20    

Jesus said, “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” Matthew 25:40

     We had been waiting for the ladies from Maroantsetra since Thursday afternoon. As the crow flies, it’s only about 160 kilometres from Tamatave, but if you’ve taken a bus anywhere in Madagascar you can attest to the fact that “as-the-crow-flies” really isn’t a great tool for determining how long it takes to get from one town to another.

     Suffice to say, these 15 ladies were supposed to leave Sunday a week ago, but that departure was delayed until Tuesday. The trip to the Hope Center should have taken two days. Instead, they arrived on Saturday – four days after they’re odyssey began.

     To get here they saw one of their buses slide into a river; walk 10 hours under the deluge of several thunder showers; sleep on the side of the road using their meager belongings for covering and bedding; and conserve what food they had so it would last four days instead of two.

     Usually when our larger group of guests arrive here at the Hope Center the transportation is in the form of either a bona fide bus or at least a 10-passenger van. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw when I looked over the balcony as the The Ladies from Maroantsetra arrived yesterday.

     Stuffed into a double-cab pick up truck were two-drivers, a chaperon and 15 ladies plus all of their belongings. A make-shift tattered canopy covered those sitting on the benches in the truck bed where no less than 10 ladies sat crammed together. The rest of the cadre were tightly compacted in the interior seating designed for five. It made me think of the Ringling Brothers Circus clowns I had seen as a kid – one after another piling out of a VW Bug, only I didn’t think of this sight as amusing, but with incredulity.

     Today I asked them about their trip. They had to take four different “buses.” None of them were an improvement over the one in which they arrived. “The first one didn’t have a canopy,” one lady told me. 

     “Did it rain?” I asked the group. 

     The cumulative response was a resounding “Yes!” “Sometimes it rained so hard all of our belongings got soaked,” another lady offered. Suffice to say, they didn’t have hotel rooms. The ladies said on one night the road was so rough the driver pulled over and waited several hours before moving on. They used the delay to disembark and sleep on the side of the road. 

     Their trip wasn’t supposed to include a boat ride, which I had heard about several times as we got updates on the ladies whereabouts. It occurred two days into the trip when they came to a river near Famba (a place I couldn’t find on the map). 

     There is no bridge to cross at this 60-meter-wide gap, so apparently locals have found a spot where the water is low enough that brave souls can drive across the river bed. All of the ladies left the truck and watched as the driver made his attempt. He failed.

     The rains that had fallen the night before added an element of the unknown. As the driver entered the waters the swollen currents overtook the truck and it lost traction. It didn’t sink, but it did slip and slide until it became stuck, teetering on some uneven rocks. To the best of anyone’s knowledge there it still remains. 

     It’s then that the ladies got their boat ride…two at a time, that is. It was on Thursday around noon that a local villager with something described as a canoe helped these ladies across the river in pairs. Once they got to the other side, they sat for two hours before they commenced their march to a nearby village, some 10 hours down the road. It’s during that walk that it started to pour, sometimes torrentially as the ladies explained. 

     From there they caught another truck, which took them to another depot, where they fianlly caught the vehicle that brought them to the Hope Center. They were in the truck, the one you see in the pictures, from sometime Thursday afternoon until late Saturday morning.

     As they were finishing with their story I asked them if they were ever scared. Again, in unison, they responded affirmatively. “What scared you most?” I queried.

     After commiserating for a few seconds one of the younger ladies raised her hand and gave voice to their fear, “We were afraid that we would miss our appointments.”

     Their fear makes me muse about the comforts of home and how something a little out of the ordinary has the power to disrupt my temperament on any given day. On the other hand the Malagasy treat the unexpected with such aplomb that I wonder if they know what a light they are to me. I pray that each and every one of these ladies are successful in their quest for the healing they so eagerly pursue. And I say, “Thank you,” to each and everyone of you for being the hands and feet of our Savior.  

Blessings! 

  

A Mother's Hope

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

“I would like to see her go to school. I want to give her the chance to run with the other children. To see her walking like every child! That’s my motivation!”

In a few, succinct words, Sandrins mother, Lydia, summed up what most parents hope for their eight-year-old child. They hope that their child will be accepted, will receive a good education to build a future on and that their child would be healthy enough to be able to play with other children. A year ago Lydia didn’t think that hope was possible.

On November 3, 2014 Lydia awoke in the very early morning, the sun had not even risen, and roused Sandrins from her sleep. Lydia heard through the radio that a hospital ship had arrived and it could correct the feet of children and make them straight again. Lydia didn’t know if Sandrins foot could be corrected but she knew she had to try and give Sandrins her best chance at a normal life. Away the two went with Sandrins on Lydia’s back for part of the 40-minute journey to the screening site. When they arrived they waited with hundreds of others who had a variety of physical ailments; all hoping for a free surgery that would cure them.

When their turn came, Lydia shared with Mercy Ships’ volunteers the heartbreaking details of how her daughter’s foot changed almost overnight. When Sandrins was only five years old she contracted malaria, which required a quinine injection – one in each leg. There were no problems with the injection on the left leg but not long after Sandrins received the injection to her right leg, Lydia knew there was a problem.

“About one week after the injection her foot began to swell and then it was like that for several months.  We tried everything without result.”

The injection caused Sandrins right foot to bend, forcing her to walk on her toe. As Sandrins foot grew worse it limited her mobility until she could no longer take more than a few steps without help. Often Sandrins had to be carried from place to place as she couldn’t walk far distances. Lydia tried to keep Sandrins in school but eventually it became impossible to carry her to and from the school – approximately a six kilometer walk in each direction. More and more Sandrins foot excluded her from life and slowly she was left behind.

After three long years, Lydia heard the news that she longed for, Mercy Ships would be able to correct Sandrins foot! The road would include two surgeries and months of physical therapy but the end result allowed Sandrins to return to school, play with her friends and return to her normal eight-year-old life.

Six month after she was fully healed, one could never imagine what Sandrins experienced during those difficult three years. Today, as Lydia watches Sandrins play neighborhood games with her sisters or head to school with all the other children in the village, Lydia cannot help but think about the long journey to reach this point. When asked what the biggest difference in Sandrins life is, Lydia shares, “Now she can play with her friends, she is going to school. She is accepted.”

This is what Mercy Ships does folks. It helps change lives, restores families and leaves the corner of the world they are visiting a little better than they found it.

Sendra

Today's post is reblogged from Nurse Amy Jones' blog, "through a porthole".  It shines the love and light of Jesus!

Sendra and I are the same age. He is my Gasy Brother. It doesn’t mean that he’s windy, and as many times as I explain it, that joke isn’t funny in another language. ‘Gasy’ can be placed as a prefix for anything that is a Malagasy version or done in a Malagasy way. ‘Madagascan’ doesn’t actually exist here, although it looks nicer without red wiggly lines underneath it. I guess if we referred to vanilla as Malagasy Vanilla no one would know where it came from?

I digress;

When we first met he was nervous about starting his first job in a while. He had a pretty bad year. A newly acquired limp showed how he had broken his leg from a serious car accident, the new title of a single dad after loosing his wife and associated unemployment. As I said, a pretty bad year. When the ship arrived he was just piecing life back together again. Putting the puzzle into some kind of order. He was giving English lessons to some of our translators and selling his marital home to make ends meet. We have worked side by side for over a year now. He was a translator for the medical capacity building team. At least that’s what it says on his badge. In reality he has been my colleague who is as passionate about changing healthcare in his country as I am. Maybe even more so. He has helped me navigate delicate, deeply disturbing, confusing and beautifully upsetting situations. Without a healthcare background you would think that he would faint, vomit or quit. But he never did.

I remember when I wanted to go and work with the midwives to familiarise my self with their equipment and team. Sendra leaned in at one point and whispered “are we actually going to watch that lady give birth”. I have to admit I hadn’t really played out the scenario in my head or thought about the fact this was probably the first time he had seen a birth. I just nodded. His eyes widened and he shouted a silent “help me God”. The baby was born and Sendra was so excited, I’m pretty sure there was a single manly tear.

As I continued to expose this man to uncomfortable situations he thrived and then one day told me he wanted to be a nurse.

He would often feel like he was already a nurse when he was translating and he dreamt that one day he would be able to enter the training program and then teach the Malagasy nurses what he had learnt.  When Sendra translates he teaches and learns at the same time. Each aspect of teaching he puts into practice. I would see his plate contents changing at lunchtime after our nutrition sessions and his hand hygiene would improve after our infection control teaching. Not only that, he would also question other nurses in their methods, as to why they weren’t following procedures.

A few weeks ago Sendra passed an entry exam in to nursing school. I was devastated and delighted. He started last week and now I have to survive without my Gasy Brother. But I know that he will be an amazing nurse. That he has soaked up everything he has translated in the last year and is now a wonderful teacher and mentor.

He said in his recent leaving speech that I treat people with compassion, something lacking in his country and if it were to be practiced then he believes corruption will cease and people will no longer be scared to go to hospital. He wants to follow all that I have taught and teach other nurses the same.

My biggest mentoring success story that I never knew about was happening right under my nose. I never planned it. I never put his statistics in to the data base. Those donors that get a monthly missions report have no idea, because he’s not a participant in any mentoring program yet he is the most educated non-health care professional in town with the biggest heart and motivation to change the world.

I believe his willingness to serve Mercy Ships gave him hope at a time in his life that was messy. That his time here has given him vision and a future that he could have never have dreamed of.

It’s not just the tumour

It’s not just the burn

It’s not just the Fistula

It’s about hope and hope comes to different people in different ways, not always in an operating theatre.

We so often focus on the patients but we have hundreds of day crew that are employed and there are so many inspirational stories that come out of their mouths each day. Sendra says that this ship and its crew will stay in his heart forever and I’m sure hes not the only one.

Sendra has chosen school over money. Or as he describes it he’s chosen a bright future. He has had to stop working for Mercy Ships so that he can study and attend lectures. That means no fixed or steady income. A few crew members have donated to his exam costs. Thank you so much if that’s you. If anyone would like to sponsor him through school then contact me.

Pray for him and his bright future, pray for me that I’ll cope with out him.

©2015 Mercy Ships – Photo Credit Katie Keegan – Sendrarena Miarinjara (MDG), Medical Capacity Building Day Crew