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| The Entire Nursing Staff at the Beginning of the Congo Field Service |
The first few weeks of surgery. It was amazing to me to see the hospital suddenly burst into life. We went from quiet empty hallways and empty beds, to hallways teaming with life and activity and beds full of patients in just a matter of days. It was wonderful to see those first patients, to see the joy that they held. It made me smile to see them come, nervous but excited.
Though the first weeks were filled with amazing surgeries and promises of hope, there were also many patients to whom we had to give bad news. Patients whose tumors were revealed to be inoperable when they came in for their scans. Patients whose tumors turned out to be cancerous. Patients to whom we had to say, "I am sorry, but there is nothing that we can do." Of course, we would never simply turn these patients away. Those who are dying are placed in our palliative care program, and we will continue to care for them.
Two patients from my first week stand out in my mind more than any others. The first is Emmanoel, the little boy who was rushed through the line at screening day, with a tumor in his mouth and throat, cutting of his airway. Every breath was made with effort, his chest was concaved and deformed from the effort it took to simply get enough air to survive. He received his surgery in the first week. His tumor was removed successfully and after only one day on a ventilator he was breathing on his own. His parents were so thankful and excited to see how well he was doing, and asked if he would now be able to learn how to speak, something that he had never done before. The joy on their faces when they learned that he should learn how to speak normally now that he could breathe was wonderful to behold. He was sent home last week, a much happier and healthier little boy.
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| Emmanoel Serious and Struggling to Breathe at Screening Day |
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| Emmanoel Happy and Healthy after Surgery |
The second child was a little girl, the same age as Emmanoel, and with the exact same problem. A tumor was filling her mouth and throat, cutting off her airway, so that she could barely breathe. She was also admitted to the hospital in the first days after the hospital opened. Her story however, did not end happily. Her tumor was found to be cancerous and inoperable. In the few days since screening day, her tumor had grown measurably. There was nothing that we could do. Her mother wept when we told her. We kept her in the hospital for a few days. I was not on the ward the day she went home to heaven, but I heard of it later and wept. She had passed away in the arms of one of our nurses. She had taken one final breath, and then the tumor closed off her airway, and she breathed no more. The entire hospital mourned her loss that day.
It was a vivid reminder to me that we are not here only for the people that we can help, the people we can heal, the people that we can "fix". We are here for each and every person that we will interact with: our patients, their families, and every other person that we will interact with here in Congo. We are here to share the love of Jesus in whatever way we can, by caring for each and every patient with kindness, by comforting the grieving, and rejoicing with those who are healed, by giving a smile and a gentle touch. This is why we are here, not just to provide surgeries, not just to bring physical healing, but to heal with love, to heal the wounds that cannot be seen. .
