Stronger than I can ever hope to be...

I sat on a tattered plastic chair in a small circle with three African ladies. My translator sat to my right. To my left was a second translator and across from me was a timid patient. I looked directly at my patient hoping somehow she would feel or sense how much I cared about her and the struggles that had brought her to me. I told her my name and that I was a nurse from the ship. I explained that I had plenty of questions to ask, but that she should feel free to tell me the truth because that is how I could best determine if we could help her. I wanted to stress that my patient’s painful story was safe with me and that my patient didn’t have to feel pressured to answer my questions a certain way. I wanted to help and my help wasn’t dependent on the “right” answers from our talk. I could almost ask all the questions I had without looking at the questionnaire because I had already conducted at least 14 of the same conversations in the two days prior to this conversation. I resisted the urge to hurry through the questions. The time I would spend with each patient was more important than getting my three page health history form filled out. As I listened to each women tell me her story with tears running down her face, I tried to push away the knowledge that ran around in the back of my head; we only had space for 20 VVF patients in the next surgical block. The reality of the situation weighed heavily on my heart. I would talk to and befriend more women than we could surgically treat. I prayed that my heart would seep compassion. I knew my time and listening ear was one of the greatest gifts I could offer many of the women before me, so I took care to stay attentive to each woman and the details she told me. None of the women I spoke to had to share their stories with me. I was a privileged guest to the information they were sharing. I couldn’t comprehend the pain and horror many of these women had experienced. Labor lasting 8 days, no medical help in delivering their children, no money or hospital to drive to. If money was available to get to a hospital and if a c-section was performed, their child had often already died in the obstructive labor process. Then these women would have constant leaking of urine because of the internal tissue death that occurred while the baby was stuck inside their womb. And as if the pain of losing a child, their bladder function, and self-esteem, wasn’t enough, many of the women had also been abandoned by their husbands. I looked at the young woman across from me; she couldn’t have been more than 20. Although it sounded dumb and insignificant, I told my patient I was so sorry for the pain she had gone through. I looked directly at my patient and put my hand gently on her leg. I listened as my translator spoke a combination of Yoruba and French to the translator to my left, then that translator spoke Biri to my patient. The message reached my patient and with a solemn face she gently bowed her head in my direction, acknowledging my comment. I smiled and squeezed her hand. Our conversation went on for about an hour. I asked question after question of my patient. Our friendship building as I acknowledged each of her responses and showed I truly cared about her struggles. I finished the conversation the same way I had finished all the previous conversations. I thanked my patient for her time and told her, I could not promise her a surgery, but that the doctor would see her. I tried to gently explain that the doctor would only be on the ship for 2 weeks, so surgical space was limited. I don’t know if the young girl across from me even comprehended what I said. She just smiled at me. In that moment, I asked if it would be okay if I prayed. She readily agreed. I then wrapped my pale white hand around the dark skinned hand in front of me. We closed our eyes and asked God to let his will prevail in this situation. As I sit here on my bed, I can picture all of the women I have talked with this past week. Their stories are etched on my heart. In my memory, I can see their worn hands and tear streaked faces. I am honored to know them. I have been blessed to spend time with them. They are stronger than I can ever hope to be. I pray that somehow I will have some of their strength tomorrow as the day promises to be intense. Tomorrow the doctor will select his surgical candidates. Twenty of my new friends will rejoice tomorrow, many more will grieve. I am going to bed now trusting God to give me the strength I will need to rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn.

Togo Road-Trip Part 5

For those of you bored by the medical field or my constant ramble about health care, for your sake, I will take a detour in this story. I will tell you about some of the other exciting things I have been interacting with on this adventure. Well, the list is huge and I am not sure you will appreciate or even understand the significance of most of it, but I will try to explain. I have been staying in a guest house. It has three bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, living room, walk in pantry, and a bathroom. I feel like I am in a mansion! The house design is simple and basic, but I am in heaven! I have SPACE! It’s amazing. I wake up to the sound of chirping birds, rustling trees, and a gentle breeze coming through my bedroom windows, instead of an alarm from the engine room, thunking my knee on the wall of my bunk when I roll over, or the sound of our suction-vacuum toilet flushing. The bathroom in this guest house is bigger than my entire cabin that sleeps four and I have a “luxury cabin” on the ship. I have selfishly taken more than a two minute shower each day and even though it is hot here, I am seriously considering having a long bubble bath before I leave! There is a bath tub here! Glory! Glory! And it is purely exciting to be able to turn around in the shower or reach for my shampoo without having the shower curtain stick to me! Awesome! Goodness, the blessings surrounding me are incredible. The hospital compound has grass, flowers, and trees everywhere! The hospital is situated between some lush, green, mountains, and I feel like I am in paradise. I didn’t realize how much I took nature and dirt for granted until I moved onto a large metal box that floats in the ocean. (It may sound like I am complaining and that I am not thankful for what I have on the ship, don’t get me wrong, I am, but I am just expressing how thankful I am for other things too). One thing I haven’t missed about dirt is the little crawly creatures that often live in dirt. I have seen some beautiful butterflies and some not so beautiful creatures, too. A few spiders tried to sleep with me, but I “disinvited” them before they crawled into my sweet, double bed! I know I am cruel, but I didn’t want to share my bed! I also met the biggest bug I have ever seen in my life. Thankfully, I met him when he was dead. After dinner one night some of the missionaries said they had something to show me. I was confused when they went to the freezer and pulled out two cups taped together. They then proceeded to open the cup and pull out a huge rhinoceros beetle. I thank God I didn’t meet that bug when he was alive. I am glad he climbed on their screen door and not mine! Holy cow! I took a picture with the bug, for your enjoyment, but I wouldn’t even touch the bug myself. I wouldn’t even hold the bug on a napkin, I put it on a napkin, on top of a weaved pot-holder, and then held the edges of the pot-holder with my finger tips. Yuck! Everyone laughed and we put the bug back into its resting place in the cups, in the freezer. One thing I have learned from being here is you better be careful before you open a freezer around this place! I met a few more exciting creatures while roaming the hospital campus. Missionaries are known for having interesting pets and Doctor Russ’s family is doing well to keep up with that stereotype. I met their 2 living snakes, new baby squirrels, monkey named Alf, and their pet civet. I’ve never heard of a civet before, let alone met one. A civet resembles a cat, has a leopard like tail, but apparently is a member of the mongoose or weasel family. I said hi to the little guy, but didn’t attempt to pet it. I get squeamish when it comes to petting hairy things. Many of the other creepy bugs in Togo apparently heard I was visiting and they decided to say hello to me as well. I appreciate their gesture but, I have decided I will be okay if I don’t have to hang out with millipedes or praying mantis in the future. I feel sorry for the last bug that tried to greet me; my patience had run out for meeting new friends…He is pictured to the right with my shoe. Oh, bless that little guy…More to come in this story…but not for the bug that got too close to my shoe!

Togo Road- Trip Part 4

People are always coming and going at Hôpital Baptiste Biblique. There are a number of long term missionaries and also short term missionaries that work with Association of Baptists for World Evangelism (ABWE) the governing mission body connected with Hôpital Baptiste Biblique. We have all gathered over meals and it has been incredible to hear the stories of the people here. The ABWE has other missionaries working throughout Togo with projects such as church planting and building another hospital in Northern Togo. I met some incredible people and I believe it was no coincidence that I was able to connect with a missionary couple from Mango, Togo, a town about 9 hours north, but only 250 miles away from Kpalime. The couple was leaving the morning after we arrived, but I was able to have a brief conversation with them about searching for VVF patients. I told them it wouldn’t be easy, but I believe there are women in their community suffering alone. This assessment was more accurate that I thought because I later found out that Hôpital Baptiste Biblique is the closest hospital to their location in Togo and it is 250 miles away. The majority of patients with VVF have no access to health care and if the closest hospital to the Mango villagers is 250 miles away, I can guarantee there are potential surgical candidates in that community. The majority of people living in Mango are Muslims. The missionaries working there are eager and willing to help Mercy Ships locate VVF patients. It will also be very beneficial for this missionary couple to have conversation starters with the people in their community and the VVF patients will greatly benefit from having friends in their community that can help them with their reintegration to society. The missionary’s wife is also pregnant and expecting a baby! I believe this is no small coincidence either. It will be natural for her to talk about birthing and through that she can discuss VVF and hopefully locate those in her community that need help! Awesome! The second night we were in Togo another missionary couple stopped by coincidently (I do not believe in coincidences) they were in need of medical care themselves and they just happened to be at the hospital the same time we were. This missionary couple is from another remote village in Togo by the name of Kara, located about six hours northeast from Kpalime and they have agreed to help locate VVF ladies as well. This is so encouraging. Having contacts up country will ensure follow-up for our VVF patients which is a luxury we don’t often have. It will also be great to have people to encourage and spiritually care for the women after our anchor is pulled up and we sail away. The wife in this missionary couple is a nurse and she also happens to be pregnant… not a mistake… some people call these instances “coincidences”… I call them “God-incidences”. Doctor Russ also introduced me to a local nurse midwife and another midwife working with the government. I am so encouraged that there are trained midwifes in the area of Kpalime and Tsiko. This gives me hope that we won’t find too many VVF patients in that area. If women have received proper care when they are laboring, obstetric VVF are 100% preventable. But, even if a midwife is present at the birth, complications can still arise, and if an emergency c-section is not available, a VVF will most likely occur along with the death of the baby. The midwifes I met will help spread the word about the free VVF surgeries Mercy Ships offers. One of the midwifes already told me about a surgical candidate she knows. I have also been working on developing creative ways to advertise the free surgeries available for these VVF women. It isn’t hard to advertise for the other surgeries Mercy Ships offers on the ship because we can take pictures of cleft lips, facial tumors, distorted limbs, cataracts, and the like, but because of the private nature of VVF surgeries, creativity is required to get the word out. Also many of the people we are here to help cannot read, so it isn’t like I can just design a poster for them to read. Often many of us from western cultures come up with a slogan or phrase that we think is perfect, but it may be culturally inappropriate and we may ruin any chance of making a difference because we offend the people we came to serve. With this knowledge in the back of my mind, I decided to ask the nurses at Hôpital Baptiste Biblique how I should best get the word out about Mercy Ships’ VVF Program. The conversation was hilarious at times, but after about one and a half hours we came up with a 2 lined slogan for my posters. We also translated the phrase into a few of the local Togolese languages. I guess the words on the poster will be hand written because I am certain my computer has never attempted to type any of the letters/figures I have on my notepad! I will be the first to admit I seriously lack graphic arts and computer design capabilities, but I feel confident that they idea and slogan my new African friends and I came up with will help locate some women suffering alone and that’s what counts! Yup…you guessed it… more to come!!!