Death Where is Your Victory?

This week I spent my second Easter aboard the Africa Mercy. It has been a beautiful time full of praise and worship, remembering the joyous day that Christ rose from the dead, conquering death once and for all.
Sunday was a morning full of tears for me, and I hope you will understand when I say that they were tears of both joy and sorrow.
You see, on Saturday I learned that on Good Friday morning while we on the ship were remembering

the day of Christ's death on the cross, in the Baby Crèche not far from us one of my precious little children, Sebastian, passed away. Sebastian had struggled for so long with illness, malnutrition, and lack of love and attention. We gave him as much love as we could on our short visits, and it was painful to see him give up and slowly waste away over the last several weeks.
As we worshiped on Easter morning, I couldn't stop the tears from streaming down my face, remembering Sebastian. His suffering is at an end. I rejoice that he is now free from tears and pain, fully loved, seeing Jesus face to face. While we celebrated Christ's resurrection here on the ship, Sebastian was in heaven face to face with the One who made our salvation possible. He can run and play with a body that is strong and healthy, a body that never tires. He does not lack for anything now.

But I also grieve his loss, and the tragedy of the death of even one precious child. In Matthew 19:14, Jesus said “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” Sebastian is with Him now. The entire kingdom of heaven is his to enjoy.

 Death where is your victory? I will celebrate the promise of life eternal, and do what I can to be the love of Christ to those that I interact with, especially these precious little ones.

Sebastian in the middle

 

 

 

 

Merveille

One look at her and I fell in love....

For a six month old, she was a tiny little thing, weighing only 3.9kg (8.5lbs.), with big brown eyes that fixed themselves on my face. She was beautiful.
Her name was Merveille, which means "marvel" or "wonder" in French. She had come from an orphanage in Brazzaville, in the care of a nun named Sister Angelique. At first I didn't notice anything wrong with her, and wondered why she was on the ward at all. Until my gaze moved away from her face. Then the tennis ball sized lump at her throat was all to obvious.
She had a goiter, which was very rare for an infant. She had come to the orphanage when she was two months old, severely malnourished. I saw the photos of her as she had looked when she had first arrived at the orphanage, all skin and bones, with the goiter protruding form her neck. The nuns had done a wonderful job of feeding her to get her to her current weight. Now she was having breathing difficulty, though it was unclear if the cause was the goiter, or some other illness.
She had been brought on board to have a CT scan to determine whether she could be operated on. She would need to have contrast injected during the CT scan, so we had to start an IV on her.
It had been a quiet day on the ward, and I had completed everything that needed to be done for may patients. They would not need anything from me for at least an hour. So I volunteered (my nice way of saying that I grabbed hold of her as soon as I had the chance and then never let go) to help get her prepared for the CT scan.
As tiny as she was, it took 6 tries before the doctor was able to get an IV cannula in her hand. She screamed and cried, while I helped hold her still and tried to sooth her. As soon as the IV cannula was properly secured, we gave her medication to sedate her so that she would stay completely still during the scan. Then I wrapped her in a new clean blanket (her own had gotten blood on it when we were inserting the IV cannula) and cuddled and soothed her until she fell asleep.
I wasn't ready to relinquish my hold on her, so I carried her down the hall to radiology for her scan. There I finally had to release her, and laid her gently into the foam mold that would hold her still during the scan.
While she was being scanned, I returned to the ward to do my afternoon med pass. Shift change was coming soon, so I did my final chart checks. Then she returned to the ward, in the arms of the charge nurse. The effects of sedation were already beginning to wear off, and her eyes were open again.
It was now shift change, and Merveille was ooohed and aaahed over by every nurse.
I reported on the patients in my care to their evening shift nurse and then, as is the duty of the nurses coming off of day shift, I took my patients up to Deck 7 for some fresh air and sunshine while Merveille stayed behind on the ward with her new nurse cooing at her.
When I returned my patients to the ward an hour later, I learned that Merveille was going to be admitted to the hospital. The admission nurse (one of my friends, Chris) had arrived to take her to another room to complete the admission process. I eagerly volunteered to assist.
While Chris, with the assistance of a translator, obtained Merveille's medical history and other information from Sister Angelique, I cuddled her.
While the physician did his assessment, I cuddled her.
While Chris measured and weighed her, I soothed her, and as soon as that was done, I cuddled her.
It was decided that we would need to do some bloodwork and after that, a chest xray. I held her still while she was poked with even more needles, then when that was over, I cuddled her.
I carried her to the radiology room and help the technician (my friend Jeremiah) to position her for the xrays. When that was done, I cuddled her.
She fell asleep almost instantly in my arms. It had been an exhausting few hours for her. So, I cuddled her for as long as I could.
By now it was time for supper, so I reluctantly returned her to her nurse and went to dinner, but not before not-so-subtly hinting to the charge nurse that I would be very happy to be her nurse when I came in for day shift the next morning. I returned to ward later that evening to check on her, and learned that the xray had showed that her lungs were clear, and the bloodwork showed that her thyroid hormones were within range for surgery. She had been scheduled for surgery in three days.
When I reported in for work the next morning, I was thrilled to see that I had been assigned as her nurse. I was surprised to learn that the surgeon had decided to operate that very day. She would be the first to go to surgery that morning. I finished preparing her for surgery, and all too soon, the OR nurse arrived to take her to the operating room. I would not be her nurse after the surgery, as she would be taken to D ward after surgery so that she would have a pediatric intensive care nurse looking after her if she had complications after the operation.
For the next several hours I tried to focus on my other patients, while wondering how Merveille was faring in the operating room. After a few hours, I started wandering past D ward every thirty minutes or so to peek through the door to see if she had returned from surgery. Finally, I saw her laying in her bed when I peeked through the door. She was breathing on her own and aside from the IV fluids going into her arm and a drain coming out of her neck where the goiter had been, she was tube free.
For the next three days I visited whenever I could, to feed and cuddle her. At first her neck was swollen and puffy, but the swelling slowly decreased. The drain was removed from her neck, and all that remained to remind us that the goiter had ever been there was the neat line of sutures across her neck.

While Merveille was in the hospital, the President of the Republic of Congo came to the ship. Merveille was one of the few lucky patients who got to meet him. He came down to D Ward, and even had his picture taken holding her! Sister Angelique was so excited to tell me all about it when I next came down for a visit. Merveille also got the opportunity to meet Mama Claire, who had been invited to return to the ship for the President's visit.

Merveille and Sister Angelique

Merveille and Mama Claire

Merveille with the President

When Merveille was sent to the HOPE Center after her discharge, I went to visit her and Sister Angelique there. She was my little princess. Coincidentally, that particular week at the HOPE Center the lesson and corresponding craft were about Queen Esther, so I made a paper crown and she was Princess Merveille for the day.

 

I am going to miss my little princess deeply, but she will be in my prayers for a lifetime, and I hope that she will one day be adopted by a loving family.

Happy Goodbyes

Life on the ship is full of goodbyes. But those goodbyes are not always sad and sorrowful events.

Plastic surgery finished a few weeks ago. The surgeon who had been operating on our patients with burn contractures, extra fingers or toes, gigantism of various limbs, etc., returned home. But many of his patients remained in the hospital, their surgeries were complete but their wounds still requiring daily dressing changes and special care.

The Plastics Team

For some, struggling with infection, or slow wound healing, it seems as if they would never go home. This week we celebrated with two patients who had been in the hospital for over two months. Finally their wounds were healed and they were ready to leave the ship. They will still return to us several times a week,for physical therapy so this is not yet a final goodbye, but we will no longer see their faces on the ward.

Saying Goodbye

One of the patients that left this week was young Benjamine. Benjamine came to us with severe burn contractures to her neck and both arms. She had been burned when her clothing caught fire. But she still had a beautiful smile.

Benjamine at screening

Benjamine was with us for so long that she knew almost everyone in the hospital and believe me when I say she was loved by all. On the day she was discharged, we had a surprise goodbye party for her on Deck 7. Many of the nurses who had cared for Benjamine came to wish her goodbye. It was a time of smiles, hugs, and laughter. And perhaps also a few tears.


Goodbye Hugs and Smiles

She still returns to the ship for physical therapy, and always stops by the wards to say "Hello" to the nurses, with bright smiles and hugs for all.

A Trip to Dolisie

This weekend I had the opportunity to take a train ride up to Dolisie with a few friends. It was a wonderful day. The four hour ride was delightful, and I took photo after photo out the window. I even had an omelette in the dining car.
Once in Dolisie we spent a short time walking about the market and stopped at the local bakery for some delicious pastries.
Then came the best part of the trip (for me at least).
We rode back to Pointe-Noire in one of the local buses, packed to the brim with people. I learned a lot about long-distance travel in Congo.
For instance, when in Congo and those riding a bus need to use the toilet, the driver pulls to the side of the road and all passengers who need to relieve themselves (men and women alike) go in the long grass on the side of the road.
When water bottles are empty and need refilling, the driver once again pulls to the side of the road, and those who have need of water refill their bottles from any small spring that comes down the mountain.
And when the people are hungry and need a snack for the road, or fixings to make dinner later, the driver will pull to the side at the nearest roadside market.
By the time we made it to our first "scheduled" stop, we had made at least four other stops for the above mentioned reasons. Though a bit cramped, it was a wonderful educational experience to see how the local people live and travel on a day to day basis. My only regret is that I did not have a window seat on the bus, and thus did not get many pictures on our return journey. Oh well, there is always next time.......