Baby Greg

It's 3:30 AM, almost everyone is asleep. On the far side of the ward I hear the rhythmic breathing of the exhausted patients. Many have traveled days to reach the hospital ship. They have finally had their life changing surgeries and although they may be experiencing pain, they do not stir because their mental, emotional, and spiritual exhaustion from living in a war torn country have trumped their physical pain. They are out for the night. On the opposite side of the ward, I hear the constant bleeping of the oxygen saturation monitor, the low hum of the ventilator, the bubbling of the humidifier, and the shush of the oxygen tank. Amidst all the noise coming from medical equipment, there is an audible gurgling, hiccuping, and gasping for air that come from five month old baby Greg. Baby Greg rests like a limp rag doll on his bed staring at his humble mobile. His baby mobile made of cris-crossed tongue depressors, string, and tiny beanie babies, sways back and forth above his fragile body. Baby Greg is struggling to live. He is so small. His operation was completed June 16th, but Baby Greg is not healing. Baby Greg's cystic hygroma, (a sac like structure full of fluid and white blood cells) was removed. The grapefruit like mass that stuck out from his neck is gone, but Baby Greg struggles to survive. The Mercy Ship doctors knew if the mass on Greg's neck continued to grow, he would soon suffocate. Medical knowledge told us to operate, but Greg is so small and frail. His breathing is worse now than before. He struggles for every breath. He was intubated in the intensive care unit and made small improvements, but now the progress has ceased. He is not getting better. He has to wear 100% oxygen almost all the time. Without the oxygen, Baby Greg would die. Baby Greg does not have the strength to eat and breath simultaneously. Thus, we put a feeding tube in his tiny belly. Our Baby Greg is handsome and precious, but we do not know what to do. We are limited in our intervention because of lack of supplies and our location. We could attempt to make an airway (trach) in his neck, but the risk of infection is too great and the reality is the Mercy Ship will not be in Liberia forever. Our hearts ache and our heads hurt. We wonder what we have done. Each day the patients and nurses gather in prayer for Baby Greg.... We need a miracle.... We have obeyed God's call to come help the poor, but this... one is never prepared for.... And it would be just too much if the humble mobile above Greg's bed stopped swaying.... PRAY...