Thursday, August 29, 2013

Patient Selection Day ~ Tears and Joy

Screening Day. That important day at the beginning of every field service when we select the first patients that we think we will be able to help. That day was today. On this day, for the first time, we meet our patients.
It is hard to put today into words. I woke early. I was not in the first group to leave the ship for the screening site, but I still had to be up at the break of day. At 0530 I was getting up and getting dressed. By 0600 I was in the dining room eating a breakfast prepared by the amazing galley team. They must have been up at 0300 in order to have those homemade doughnuts, oatmeal, hard boiled eggs, cereals, and the like set out and ready for those of us who would spend our day off the ship.  At 0630 I was at the meeting point for my team, and at 0645 we were driving out of the port gate and on our way to the selection site. You could tell the day was special. As we drove along, people would see the Mercy Ship's rover and start calling out to us, "Mercy Ships, Mercy Ships!"





As we pulled up to the site we could see the line stretching down one side street and out of site. There were so many taxis arriving full of more people just arriving to get into line, that we could barely get through to get into the school's back gate. We entered through a back entrance to the school and immediately headed for the building that we had been assigned to. I was partnered with Katie. Our job would be to draw blood on the patients who made it through the initial screening that the surgeons wanted immediate testing on. Mostly these would be the patients with large facial tumors. The room that Katie and I were assigned to also had the biopsy team and the physical exam team. This meant that I saw every patient who was being considered for surgery for maxillofacial or plastic surgery as they came through for their exam, and later if indicated, a blood draw from me or Katie, or a biopsy by Dr. Sheffield at the table next to me.
Katie Drawing Blood

Drawing Blood on a Patient

Dr. Sheffield Looking at a Biopsy

Our room was on the second floor, and overlooked the courtyard and the gate where the patients entered . Practically speaking this meant that I could watch as each person who stood in line outside the gates came in and was directed to the right or straight ahead. Straight meant hope, the people who were guided that way were those that the pre-screening team thought we might be able to help.

My heart broke for those that I saw directed to the right. These were the ones we knew we could not help, children with obvious down syndrome, cerebral palsy, or other problems that were either inoperable, or required surgery or other medical care that Mercy Ships cannot provide. After standing in line for hours, many of them having gotten in line the night before, they had to be told that there was nothing that we could do to help them, and were guided to another building where another team member would pray with them before we sent them home.

Many of us shed tears over those we had to turn away. Though I was not involved in the selection process myself, and did not have the very difficult task of telling people "I'm sorry, but we cannot help you.", I too shed tears for the many people who left disappointed. For me the final crack that broke the dam holding back my tears was the sight of Mercy Ships financial director John Wall as he took a young girl with cerebral palsy who had been carried through the line all day on her mother's back, and carried her through the "No" line to the prayer team to give her mother a break. 


Though we shed tears, we also smiled with joy. We saw so many that we know we can help. For one little boy named Emmanoel, that help will come just in time. He was rushed from the screening line to see the doctors. He could barely breathe, the back of his throat filled with a large tumor. If he was laid back or the position of his neck was changed, he could not breathe at all. He sat stiffly, always holding his head in the position that best allowed him to breathe. Still, every breath was agonal, and could be heard from across the room. He was lethargic, every ounce of energy he had going into taking that next breath. He will have surgery next week, he cannot wait any longer. He does not have that kind of time. When I felt like weeping for those we had to turn away, I remembered that boy. I remembered the ones that we told "Yes", and I rejoiced to know that while we cannot help every person who comes, we can help this one and many others.
The day was long. They closed the end of the line around 1530, but it took at least four more hours to process those who were still patiently waiting in line. The school had no electricity, but as the day turned into evening and the light faded away, flashlights were pulled out and the work continued until every person in line had been seen.

According to Mercy Ships these are the final statistics for the day:
  • The line was open for 12 hours and 20 minutes.
  • Approximately 7000 people stood in line in the hopes of receiving treatment.
  • Of those 7000 hopeful, 4236 received cards for appointments for surgery or further tests.
  • At the peak of our busy day 311 Mercy Ships crew were present at the school to help with the screening
  • In total 345 Mercy Ships crewmembers came to help with screening day.
These are just numbers, and my words are not nearly good enough to express what it was to live this day.

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