Snippets

My grip tightened on my fiance's hand and I didn't realise I was holding my breathe until the vehicle has passed. He looked at me in suprized concern and asked if I was ok. I let my breathe out and replied "When those Toyota trucks pass you with a group of young men sitting in the back tray, does it remind you of the war too?". He nodded and told me he understood. We were in-land and this is where the war was fought (primarily). On the back of these trucks was exactly how the rebels travelled into the villages to murder and destroy during the ten year civil war here. All I could think and wonder was how the people must feel when they see those toyota's coming through their villages. Do they also hold their breathe and flash back to the horrific scenes of not so long ago?

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Yesterday it felt like my heart sank to my feet. I realised I had naturally allowed myself to slip into selfish thinking. It's rainy season at present...every day...for the past few months. During the week it doesnt feel like such a big deal. At present we generally don't get out on the deck before the sun goes down anyway as surgery days are long and finish late. However when the weekend comes and the days are there to escape the ship and step onto solid ground we dive at it. Week after week though I've been finding myself dissapointed to wake up, look out the port hole and see rain pouring down into the sea below. Frustrating when you are looking forward to a day of relaxing at the beach after a busy week. Today though, I felt selfish as a friend shared how already in Freetown 50 people have died from the rain. All I could think was "How?" and then I understood that the slums and ghetto's here are all at the bottom of hills. When you see it, your mouth drops towards the earth-to see the dirt and the tin shacks built upon one another-the water runs down and drowns them. My heart felt sad and it was a good awakening that this rainy season (which has been called a "light one") doesnt just affect my weekend plans but many lives and families survival here. How truly good it is for one to gain perspective.

The Whisper of Hope

When the heat hits me I go quiet. I can feel perspiration building on my forehead. Somehow out of the fifteen landrovers that Mercy Ships owned we managed to get the one that doesnt have airconditioning...I am not complaining though as I feel so grateful that we actually have cars we can use to have some time off and away from the ship. As we drive through the chaotic marketplace and traffic we constantly here the whisper "Mercy Ships" from the crowds. As we pass by a woman selling produce from the bowl carried upon her head, her face softens and she gives me a smile and the thumbs up.

When we come to a standstill (which is often) we are often approached...."Please I have this lump here on my hand, can you help me?". Sometimes we take photographs, names and numbers and other times we sadly have to respond that we cannot help with their medical condition. We screened at the beginning of the year but the people continue to come to our Port gate with hope that we can bring healing. Only by God's grace is this possible.

Suprize Reunion

Tears pricked my eyes as we embraced in a warm hug. I looked down at her stomach and exclaimed "You are pregnant" and she smiled back at me shyly. I first met her in 2010 as I carried out the checklist for her surgery. Her scalp was burned from a car accident, yet when I looked in her eyes I could see a deep beauty. I was suprized to learn she had two children but she was my age.

2010

Her name is Mayalie and she is from Sierra Leone. She told me that one day as she lay in a hospital bed after being there for months following the accident a white missionary Doctor walked in to find her crying. When he asked her what was wrong she explained her wounds were not healing after many attempts with surgery and skin grafts and she had no more money to pay for her care. He flew her to Togo for surgery onboard Mercy ships and our Plastic surgeon Dr Tertius operated on her multiple times. The results were wonderful.

Last week she came onboard for a visit and to share a meal with myself, Michel and the lovely nurse Jane who carried out her months of wound care following her surgery. On her back she carried her newborn baby of three months and

people "oohed" and "aaahed" over her as we showed her around the ship. Mayalie had spent months on Deck three, which holds our hospital. She looked around, amazed to survey all the decks and crew living areas she had not seen in her stay last year. We took her down to the hospital and past the ward she had lived in as she snuck glances in the window at patients who were now where she once was. It was a great moment when Dr Tertius walked out into the hallway, he smiled with joy to see her well and healthy. It is not often that he gets to see many of his patients post-operatively, it was a special moment as she said softly "Thankyou Dr Tertius".

Inspiring Grace

As soon as my friend Harriet entered my cabin I could clearly see something was on her mind. She's so amazing and she inspires me. Everytime I think I'm having a hard day I take a moment to consider how challenging her days are. As she leaves the ship every morning she goes out into the heat and sits with patients as they face the reality that they are dying. She is the last person they see as they leave the Screening Gates. Many leave holding an appointment card, full of hope. Sadly there are always those we cannot help; she has to comfort them as they grapple with the truth that their physical conditions are terminal. She is priviledged to meet with them in their homes (which are sometimes situated on the sides of mountains and require walking through valleys). With this comes discomfort as she walks head on into their culture and ways, equipped with prayer and pain medication to help soothe their pain. She is our ships hospital Palliative Care nurse.

She began to share how today had been unexpected as she sat opposite a dying man who was a known rebel leader during the war that tore apart Sierra Leone. As her translator Esther began to speak to him a revelation came over her also and she turned to my friend Harriet and said "I know this man! he was one of the main Rebel Leaders in my province. I managed to escape with my parents but my Grandmother was too frail to come with us and she was raped by the rebels as they came through my village". Her translator spoke with grace and care. Later she told Harriet "I have forgiven, but I cannot forget". He admitted to them he was too ashamed and scared to return to his village and family because of all he did through the war. This man dying all alone in a small room haunted with the memories of war crimes that he carried out and ordered from his child soldiers beneath him. As she told me this I was filled with emotions, they flew around me and I couldn't pin any of them down. Rage was there but also deep saddness and compassion. All I could think of was Salimatou (I shared about her in a previous blog) and how her life was changed in just a moment. How she had to deal daily with her amputated legs and the rebels cruel acts .

This man has chosen to return to his village and his family to die. Harriet and Esther have shown him God's love as they sat with him and listened to his heart. Esther the translator extended grace as she voiced before they left "I know what you have done, I know who you are but I also know that the past is the past and is also forgiven". The power of those words struck me. Grace is forgiving those who don't deserve to be forgiven. I find it amazing and challenging to my core to witness it being extended to this man.

Her Story

Some mornings I wake up to my current reality: I live on a hospital ship in West Africa and I work as a volunteer nurse giving out care to those who could never afford healthcare. I don't think about how strange this reality is simply because I love being here. If I was honest with you I would tell you there is nowhere else I would rather be right now, there is nowhere else I would want to be nursing. I will be truthful, somedays are hard and some feel impossible. Everywhere I look poverty stares me in the face, when you are here you cannot avoid it. As every patient walks through the Operating Room door they also bring their journeys with them. So many of their stories are heartbreaking and I have made the conscious decision to not allow my heart to stop caring. I want to imagine the pain they must have gone through because it helps me to relate more to each individual. As I do this I also find my perspective shifting from what actually is a valid "problem" and I begin to appreciate how truly blessed I am.

I don't feel my words are adequate enough to describe their stories, however I still want them to be told, to be heard and read. I have attached just a part of Salimatou's story, she is a remarkable lady. I cried as I read her journey a few weeks ago, wondering where she was but never imagining I would meet her in person. This week I went to go and collect a patient from the Pre-operative area for surgery and as I sat down with the woman's nursing chart I observed how kind her eyes were and her lovely smile. As I flicked through her notes it dawned on me who she was. I looked at her again and said "Salimatou, I read your story...you are an amazing lady". She smiled back at me radiantly, her expression a mixture of suprize and delight as she said "Thankyou". I hope you take the time to read it so you can also know more about this strong lady who has touched my heart.

Please click on the link below to read her story.

http://michelsrundbriefe09.blogspot.com/2011/06/salamatus-story.html

Truth, Challenges and Blessings :)

We have three local day volunteers who help us in Theatre and they are wonderful. They mainly help us with translating when we are checking the patients pre-operatively, assisting us with bringing them to the Operating Room and helping us to clean the rooms afterwards.

Today I picked up a five year old boy for surgery called Santigo I was overwhelmed with joy as he threw his balloon at my face and burst into laughter and then continued to climb all over me and attempt to tickle me. I hardly noticed that he his right leg was not complete and from the knee joint his lower leg branched into a fork shape. The left leg was underdeveloped and his foot was gnarled into a club foot, curved underwards preventing him from walking on it.

When it came time to take him to the Operating Room he began to resist the idea until I offered a piggyback ride and then he was clambering aboard quite happily and we set off down the corridor.

Once in Theatre we began to prepare for surgery and as I did this I asked our day volunteer Jonathon what he thought of this child's condition and what the people of Sierra Leone believe. Jonathon is a smart man, he does not have a high education but he has an eager mind that is willing and keen to learn and is constantly asking me medical questions which I delight in answering. He is also a pastor and usually on Fridays we discuss what he will speak to his church about on Sundays.

His response amazed me “Before you people came, before the ship arrived I would have seen a person like this child with a deformity and believed that they are possessed by a bad spirit-many people believe this-but now that you have come I can now see that this is not true”. It was so good to hear, this belief of a “bad spirit” is what leads people to kill their children who are born with abnormalities or anything unusual here. I told him that where I come from people there are also born sometimes with abnormalities and he was so suprized and I saw a deeper understanding creep over his face.

Access to clean and adequate water in Sierra Leone has been a huge challenge so far. Once obtained it is has to go through a process of being treated by our water team onboard and being a crew of 450 people (and a hospital) we consume/need a lot. A few weeks ago we reached dire straights and they had to shut down our personal supply which meant that no-one was allowed to shower or do laundry. Since then we have managed to source more however it looks like it will be an ongoing battle.

Ontop of this sickness onboard is reported to be the worst it has ever been. Being a small community, bugs tend to travel fairly quickly however this year entire cabins are being wiped out (mine included) resulting in low moral and heavy workloads for many. The staff in the hospital is under a lot of stress and the leadership are working hard to find the reason behind all the sickness.

I thought I had left the "trapped" feeling of Togo behind and Sierra Leone would hold more Freedom. This is not sadly the case in Freetown (the capital and port city of Sierra Leone) and more than ever I feel a sense of claustrophia and sacrifice to be here. I'm very grateful for wonderful friends and the amazing community onboard the ship however the traffic is the limiting factor in Freetown, where there are too many people and not enough space. A few weeks ago for the first time in three months we went out for dinner to celebrate my cabinmates birthday. It took us two and a half hours to make it ten kilometres to the restaurant!

It was with great delight that I escaped for some rest and refreshment on Banana Island (a twenty minute boat ride away) with good friends over the Easter weekend. We stayed in very basic accomodation which had no electricity and just candles (I also shared my room with a bat one night and I have to admit I let out quite a scream when I discovered him hanging from the ceiling!). It was an amazing weekend and we enjoyed fresh fish, swimming all day long, bonfires on the beach and a time of reflection and fellowship.

Second Screening Success

I found myself at 4:30am this morning in the dining room grabbing some breakfast for a good reason. We were on our way once again to do a screening because we were running out of patients to help. The last two weeks of surgery have seen great results and wonderful changes in many lives.

Although the painful memory of our last screening day is not 'fresh' it was still present as we made our way through the dark yet busy streets of Sierra Leone at a ludicrous hour to a new screening location in the city of Freetown. My thoughts turned with respect to our crew who had been doing security since 4pm the day before and all through the night. Amongst them were 'pre-screeners' who were going along the line that continued to grow through the night checking on each person's condition. The purpose of this was to send away those we could not help, in doing this it made the crowd more manageable.

Michel and I found ourselves once again in Plastic Surgery and also General Surgery. We had put out word and pictures to let the people of Sierra Leone know the particular conditions we could help with and Goitres/Thyroid growths was one of them. My emotions began to surge with frustration though as I received news that before the ship arrived the government has agreed to ensure that at least five pharmacies in Sierra Leone would be stocked with the medication that needs to be taken daily after thyroids are removed. If a person has their thyroid removed without this medication available they will die within five years. Sadly the government has not held up their side of the deal and we find ourselves with no medication so at this point sadly unable to treat huge disfiguring goitres. There is still hope that they will provide the medication yet we will just have to be patient and pray for a miracle.

Everywhere I looked I felt shock fill my body, surrounding me were the saddest eyes I had ever seen. The people of Sierra Leone who have been in hiding for years had come to seek help-many hid behind material blankets but others sat knowing full well that we saw them.

I have learnt as a nurse to become a master at guarding my facial reactions, it has taken years to develop this skill because I believe it is very important for people not to see shock or disgust on my face. My hope is that they will see love and gentleness. I am learning to look into people's eyes and appreciate them and value them before looking over there body with an objective medical eye. I know this is essential because many have not had another person "see" them for years let alone touch them. Nothing prepared me for Abdul though, after introductions I began to scan his body and as I noted his kneck had not goitre protruding out of it and that his hands were not contracted from bad burns I felt puzzled about why he had come. I was not prepared though when he removed his hat carefully to reveal a bulging tumour sitting directly ontop of his head. I was suprized as I felt my ownjaw drop open.

Thankfully our prayers were answered as cloud cover was wonderful in the morning and we were reasonably comfortable sitting outside examining patients. The definition of desperation hit me as I realised that the same woman from an hour before was sitting again before us. After giving her the sad news we were unable to help her one hour before she had gone out the gates and joined the end of the line again in hopes of a 'second-chance'.

As we were packing up a nurse came to me and said "here's your last person" I turned to find the sweetest little five year old girl-she stretched out her hand and placed it in mine. I was amazed to look down and see that on her right hand was eight digits and her elbow locked into position unable to bend or flex. Her grandfather sat next to her looking at us with hopeful eyes and it was a lovely way to end the day of screening as we booked her in for surgery on the schedule this year.

Thankyou for reading:)