pray that his story is not yet finished

     His condition left him alone, isolated, in pain, and suffering. He reached out for help, but none was found. He attempted to get help from all the clinics and hospitals in his village, but even their best medical professionals could not even begin to treat his medical ailment. He put an appeal in with the United States Embassy in Conakry, Guinea to get medical emancipation to the USA, but his request was denied. The Embassy staff have reported they get flooded with requests like his and they cannot help everyone. His medical information was handed back over to the Guinea Minister of Health and set aside in a pile with other files like his. He was another statistic, another “one” they could not help, “one” they would try to find help for, and “one” they would see if an NGO could help.
     It is uncertain how long his file sat on the Minister of Health’s desk, but at this point, that is not important. One day, some of Mercy Ships’ Advance Team members were sitting in that office and saw the file. The file was passed to them and they assured the Minister of Health that they would pass the information on to Mercy Ships’ Advance Hospital Liaison and see what could be done… His file is in my hands…
     I had him on my list of people to contact, but had to prioritize my mountain of work, so was waiting to contact him until closer to the ship’s August arrival. I wanted to connect with him as soon as I heard about his need, but was forced to deal with the reality that I am just one lone nurse here in Guinea, without the ship, I can not really help him, so I put my personal feelings aside and set his file aside as well.
     A few weeks later, we were stuck in traffic, which had become a norm, when I heard someone knocking on our, Mercy Ships’ land-rover, window. Assuming the knock came from just another street vendor trying to sell me Kleenex, a belt, or sun glasses, I didn’t pay much attention to the disturbance. The knocking persisted and being all too familiar with the aggressiveness of street salesmen in Africa, I wasn’t bothered to look up. When the knocking failed to cease, I finally looked up. When I looked up, I saw a timid young man, with a soft-ball sized mass protruding off the side of his face. I felt ashamed for ignoring his knocking and immediately switched into nurse mode asking my translator to help me talk to him. I wanted to know every detail about this young man to see if Mercy Ships could help him. I was so excited to have a potential patient in front of me, that I missed hearing my co-workers say, “This is the “one”...we gave you his file…” Slowly, the pieces started coming together in my mind. This was the patient, waiting to hear from me, the patient holding out hope in Mercy Ships, the “one” denied medical emancipation, the “one…”
     Anything but a statistic…a fragile, man, not too many years my junior, one desperate for help, stood in front of me. The thought still rushed through my mind, “the ship isn’t here, he needs a CT Scan and an OPG to determine the severity of his tumor, what can I offer him???” I silenced the thoughts in my head and remembered that I could offer him my listening ear, my time, and hopefully, that would mean something.
     He got in our land-rover and we headed to a sandwich place for lunch. When we walked into the restaurant, I saw the way others looked at him and I saw the way he tried to shrink and disappear from the room, to not be subject once again to judgmental eyes and critique. I knew it had to be hard for him, but determined to treat him as I saw him, a valuable person, made in the image of God, not a tumor. I wanted him to feel “normal…” whatever that is...
     We ordered sandwiches, sodas, and tried to find something on the menu that my potential patient could eat because his tumor had started to take over his ability to eat. He sat quietly at the table, face down, with his ball cap pulled down over his eyes. My co-workers and I chatted about the day ahead and the remaining meetings we had. My potential patient sat starring at this plate, in silence. The situation was less than comfortable, I wanted to ask him a million questions since the moment I met him, but I didn’t want him to feel as if his tumor defined him, but at the same time, I didn’t want him to feel as if I didn’t notice it or didn’t care. I prayed for wisdom to know what to say and when to say it.
     After a few moments, he looked up at me and said, “Don’t you want to ask me questions about my face?” That was my cue… I asked him if it would be okay if I asked him some questions about his situation, in the restaurant while we ate, or if he preferred we talk privately in the land-rover… He opened up and told me his story…his life had been one ridden with hurt, hopelessness, crushed dreams, loneliness, sleepless nights, and rejection. I saw tears roll down his cheek as he spoke. He told me he was constantly in pain, that he used to attend school, but his physical and emotional pain had become so great, that he withdrew. He didn’t have enough money for pain medicine, didn’t know what medicine to buy, and he was all alone.
     I ached for him…I hurt for him…I wished I could have wrapped him in my arms and made his entire situation go away…but, I couldn’t even promise him it would all be okay when the ship arrived...I told him I wanted to see him as soon as the ship arrived, that we would order a CT Scan and other medical tests, but that I could not promise him a surgery…How does one encourage, but not provide false hope??? Either way, he clung to the promise that Mercy Ships would see him in August and he thanked me.
     This situation did not sit well with me. I couldn’t leave him the way he was… he had a large, painful tumor on his face…he could actually be called heavenward before the ship arrives…and all I could tell him was… “I’ll see you in a few months.” But, what could I do??? Then I remembered the local pharmacist I had met just a few weeks before who agreed to supply the ship with medicines should they run out. With my potential patient’s approval, we drove to the pharmacy. When we walked in the pharmacy, again he was met with nothing but stares. I had him sit on a little bench while I spoke with the pharmacist.
     I bought Ibuprofen and also managed to get my potential patient a strong analgesic that normally requires a prescription in this country. The pharmacist trusted who I was, who I worked with, and since evidence of my patient was starring him in the face, and he graciously gave us the medicine. I carefully instructed the young man how to take the medicine and gave him his first dose with water from a sachet that I purchased out of a basket a lovely African woman was carrying on her head. I prayed the medicine would somehow relieve the burden upon this “one” who was only a few years my junior.
      I still had many errands to complete for they day, but wasn’t bothered if this fellow wanted to ride around with me in the land-rover. I told him I would drop him off close to his home, which was near ours, when we finished our tasks for the day. He was thankful for the offer to save his precious coins and one less time he had to take public transport.
     Traffic can take anywhere between 40 mins-3 hours to get from downtown Conakry, to our apartment so after I finished my errands, I started to head home. I was thankful, traffic wasn’t too bad. After a few minutes of driving, I looked over my shoulder and saw him sleeping, peacefully.
     We neared our apartment and I didn’t want to wake him, he looked so weary, but I had to. He showed us where we could drop him off. We prayed with him before he left us, we made sure he understood how to take his pain medicine, and sent him on his way. As he got out of the car, with shoulders slumped, I prayed that God’s angels would surround this “one”…”one” that was anything but a statistic….”one” that is precious in his site… and I prayed that if the ship can help him that it will come to pass….
     Before I went to bed, I reviewed the whirlwind day I had experienced. I prayed for my potential patient…I prayed he would feel a touch from above and that God would do a mighty thing in his life….And I feel asleep…
     The next day, when my co-worker returned from work, he had a huge grin on his face and told me he had seen my potential patient downtown. The young man was so excited he had driven his bicycle all the way downtown in hopes of finding us in the Mercy Ships’ land-rover. He wanted us to know he slept the entire night for the first time in months, he had no pain, and he had more energy than he knew what to do with! His tumor remained, but he had slept and was without pain!
     I thank God for the young man with the facial tumor and I ask you to pray with me that his story is not yet finished…Pray that maybe he can find hope and healing through the big white ship that is sailing his way!