Gobi Adventures. . .

Many of you may not know this, but I have extended my time in Mongolia by one week. We had a complicated surgical case here (an 18 month-old boy, Tsend) that required more care that we anticipated post-op. Unfortunately, the Mongolian nurses and doctors are not really experienced in taking care of these children after their surgeries. A few of us decided to change our plans and try to get Tsend healthier before we left him. By God giving us little miracles along the way, we were able to extubate (take him off the ventilator) on Sunday evening. I say it was a miracle because he miraculously peed off about 1 liter of fluid from his body in 24 hours and was still hemodynamically stable. If you're not a medical person, that won't mean anything to you, but trust me, it is miraculous when you're talking about a child weighing under 15 pounds. Because God provided and he got so much better, I was able to spend the week in the South Gobi Desert with the Searching Team of For Hearts and Souls. We spent the week traveling through the Gobi screening children for congenital heart disease and neurologically disorders. It was a great week! I was on sticker duty all week. I put stickers all over the children while they were waiting to be seen by the doctors. I got to make them giggle, smile, and help them enjoy life. It was such a change from the previous week. I am so glad that I was able to stay and experience both weeks. What a blessing it has been! I'll have more to post later, but now I must go to bed since I have access to an actual bed now. We spent the last four nights sleeping in "gers." They are Mongolian tents that may or may not be heated. It has been around 30 degrees Celsius here in the Gobi the last few nights. Freezing nights may be long, but Gobi days are gorgeous!

The Accidental Tourist

It was a tearful good-bye from the ship and Liberia a week and a half ago. I had such an amazing time there and just crave to return to Africa. . . soon. (yes, that's right, momma-cita, I'm going back). I wish I could sum it up and understand what exactly God did in my life and heart while I was there and is continuing to do now that I am in Mongolia; however, I need approximately 36 hours, 8 triple non-fat lattes, a journal, and Bible before I'll be ready for that. So instead, I'll just carry on with this post.

After spending twelve hours in Belgium, one hour in Frankfurt, and four days in Beijing, I am in Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia. My week of travel was quite an adventure. I arrived in Brussels at 5:45 AM and hopped a train into the city (more like dragged myself onto the train) where I promptly feel asleep after the first two stops. An hour later I woke up in rural Belgium, completely clueless as to where I was or how to get back. Not really a big deal except that in the rural parts of Belgium, Finnish is spoken. The languages I dabble in include English (somewhat proficient), Spanish, and now Liberian-English. Note that Finnish is not listed here. Fortunately, the train station guy took special pity on me and made sure I got back to Brussels, even going as far as to physically stop me from getting on the wrong train. He also informed me that I should have disembarked at the second stop from the airport. One of the two stops I was actually awake for! After arriving in Brussels, first stop: coffee shop, second stop: city tour bus. It is more than a little comical that Brussels is known as being the seat of the European Union and is home of Mannequin Pis (the little peeing boy)! How did those two diametrically opposite things end up in the same city?!

In Beijing, I meet up with the half of the Mongolia group. We went to the Great Wall where I unsuccessfully warded off Chinese selling their wares on the Wall. I was a little surprised that is allowed. Oh well. For those of you going to the Olympics next summer, I suggest bringing a blindfold so you won't know how many cars/bikers/people your cab driver is about to run down.

I am always fascinated when I travel outside of the US. So many places have such a rich history. I suppose that is what happens when your country is older than 200 years. Boston is about as old as it gets in terms of US history. I was stopped in my tracks at The Imperial Palace (Forbidden City) just imagining daily life there 600 years ago (Ming Dynasty). Our last night in Beijing, seven of us went to Tianamen Square just to wander around. We ended up being there for the flag ceremony (when they take down the flag). Apparently, a group of seven American women standing around Tianamen Square on a Friday night is something to wonder at. We got so many stares and picture requests; it was really quite entertaining. These two young women (around my age) came up to all of us and started a conversation. We ended up having tea ceremony and dinner with them. They allowed us to pray for the dinner. I think they thought it was a cute thing to do with Americans, because they both giggled when I said "Amen." It was cool to be able to spend hours with them just talking, comparing culture, background, jokes, and songs. We told them what we were planning to do in Mongolia and they were genuinely interested. They were wonderfully sweet women. It was just one of the many divine appointments we had in Beijing. Political views aside, Communism leaves people spiritually famished.

It's Thursday evening in Mongolia (13 hours ahead of CST). Today was day four of surgeries and caths. It has been a tough week to say the least, but God is faithful in all things even when it is impossible to understand His plan and justice. We have not done all the surgeries we had originally planned due to many reasons, paramount being that God has changed our plan. Please continue to keep the Mongolia team, children, and families in your prayers. Pray specifically for us specifically that we would be a light in a dark place; pray for the safety and protection of the children; pray for every one's energy level and state of mind. As the director of the program said, "Pediatric cardiac surgery is difficult in the US when you have almost limitless amounts of what you need." Please pray for limitless faith and encouragement. God bless you all and see you soon. Love, me!

Bowels of the Ship

Imagine lying in your bed drifting off into a peaceful sleep being gently rocked to and fro with the ocean's tide. Just as you fall into that sweet repose you hear a jarring siren roar from beneath your pillow. This is not just any siren, this is the ship engine's alarm. I only hear the alarm at night; I'm pretty sure the engineers wait until I have turned my reading light out and am just about to fall asleep and then set off the alarm. It is really a flawless system. I assume there is so kind of light in the engine room that is triggered by me turning my little reading light out. I mean, clearly, it's the only logical conclusion.

The first time I heard it was my first night on the ship. "Welcome to Mercy Africa. Good luck sorting out all the noises." During an orientation session a speaker was joking about ways to adjust to ship life. His suggestion was to bring your lawn mower into your kitchen, turn it on, and let it run for a week. That's probably a good start.

My cabin mates and I are also convinced that a Tyrannosaurus Rex lives within our plumbing. That may sound far-fetched to you, but then, you haven't heard him roar. About every 5 seconds that water runs, an extremely loud (louder than the engine alarm) sucking/roaring/whooshing sound happens. I also heard this noise on my first night as well. After flying for 20-some-odd hours, I desperately wanted a relaxing shower. It was one of the most frightening experiences I have had in a long time. I wasn't sure if I was going to be sucked down the drainpipe, if something was going to explode, or if I was going to be eaten by whatever lives down the drainpipe. Since then we have discovered that, yes, indeed, it is a T-Rex.

I've grown quite accustomed to the noises over the last six weeks. I have no idea how I am going to handle life without random alarms and sirens and without an engine vibrating beneath me. I may have to petition you all to blow horns and sound bells and the like in order for me to get any sleep at all. I will establish a schedule once I get home and let you know. Bring your own noisemaker. Not to mention, what I am going to do when I have more than 9 cubic feet of personal space? Right now if I reach out both of my arms, I can touch either wall of my cabin with room to spare. Comparatively speaking, I think ants have more personal space than I do. I must say though, that for someone who values her alone time and personal space, I really don't mind at all living in a matchbox. It all just makes me laugh and enjoy the experience that much more. I giggle thinking about all the things I thought I needed. Good coffee has remained high on the list though.

2 More Weeks

It is very strange to think that I have only two weeks left in Liberia. That soon I will be moving on to Beijing, Mongolia, and lands beyond. These last six weeks have been such a blessing and an eye opening experience. I find it very difficult to know how to write about all of it. I have experienced to following emotions: happiness, sadness, anger, elation, joy, pensiveness (not really an emotion), contentment, and reflection. I am pretty sure that once I do finally get home I'll be moving to the state of Confusion. (I think that is somewhere in the Mid-West if my geography has not completely escaped me.)

One thing I have noticed here is that despite this country being war-torn and disheveled there is an incredibly strong undercurrent of faith. Yes, the police are corrupt, the government is lacking unity, the infrastructure is non-existent (you can literally swim in some of the potholes--seen kids do it). But in spite of all of that, the church is very strong here. All of the churches I have visited have solid Biblical teaching, an eager congregation, and a burning desire to know Christ more. I have heard several different pastors direct the congregation to thank God that they have survived another week. When I first heard this it didn't really register. In my mind, "Sure, thank you God that I am young, fit, and generally healthy." Then I started thinking about it from the perspective of the Liberians. The people in the congregation are the ones that survived 14 years of civil war, not knowing from one moment to the next when the rebels were going to come back. Not if, when. They always came back. They truly were blessed to have survived another week surrounded by war and gunfire.

We see so many horrible things in movies about how cruelly we can treat one another (Hotel Rwanda, Blood Diamond, The Last King of Scotland). It's relatively easy for me to watch in shocked horror then go get dinner. Something about seeing it in movies makes it seem less real. You never how much of this is exaggerated for effect or CGI or made up altogether. Not to mention that when movies like Hotel Rwanda and X-Men come out in the same weekend, it all seems less real. Over the last month, we have been treating a 16-year-old girl, Esther. She has suffered through 4 surgeries so far with at least one more to go to have a burn contracture of her right hand released. We rarely see burns like this in the US. In developing/war-torn country the burns are not treated properly, the burned flesh then becomes tight and painful. The tightness constricts movement of the extremity. When Esther came to us, her right hand was useless and so tight her hand always made a fist. Through skin grafting, pin placement in each digit to straighten out her fingers, serial (repeated) casting, and occupational therapy she is healing. It is unsure of how much function she will have in the right hand, but probably some. I tell her story because I was appalled when I started taking care of her and heard her story. When she was 3, the rebels held her hand in the fire. We don't know any other details because there are no family members to tell us.

I ask you where is the humanity that this still happens? When I read the Old Testament, I am horrified by the descriptions of war and battle. I used to think how far we've come as a society that we don't do things like that anymore. Now, I see that I was wrong.

It has been a blessing to watch Esther heal both physically and emotionally. She is much more open and smiles more now. I am pleased as punch that we could help her, but saddened that we ever needed to. I still don't believe that God orchestrates these horrific circumstances, but I believe more than ever that He is able to work through all things to bring glory to Himself.

I recently came across 2 Thessalonians 3: 3-5 which states, "But the Lord is faithful, and He will strengthen and protect you from the evil one. We have confidence in the Lord that you are doing and will continue to do the things we command. May the Lord direct your hearts into God's love and Christ's perseverance." I immediately thought of all of you who have supported me financially and continue to prayerfully support me. I have no doubt that I am exactly where God wants me right now. And to answer every one's question of what comes next: who knows?

Language Lessons

"You know, the international language. . . LOVE. The language of LOVE!": Ricky's Mom in Better Off Dead.

The official language here is Liberio-English. To me, Liberio-English sounds like a cross between Ebonics, some Caribbean dialect, and American English. I have found that while I cannot understand every word they say, I can definitely get their meaning. Ironically though, very often they have no idea what I am saying. The first couple of weeks here, I'd just talk normally to the patients and have the translators translate. I found it quite comical because I'd say, "do you have any pain?", then the translator would say, "ya feelin' any peen?" Which to me sounds pretty close, but when I'd ask them they would blankly stare at me. After the translator had spoken, they very clearly answered either "no" or "small, small" or "big, big peen." So, recently I've taken to saying, "ya feelin' any peen?" This system works out quite nicely because then the translators are available to help me with other patient care things. I've really enjoyed being able to teach the translators a little something about nursing and patient care over the last month. I am fortunate to have fairly well educated translators. Hopefully after Africa Mercy sails in November, they will be qualified to get jobs at one of the hospitals as a nurses aid.

We are currently performing surgeries to repair vesico-vaginal fistulas (VVF). A VVF (or hole between the vagina and bladder) forms when a woman has been in labor for a few days. Usually, the baby is stillborn because he or she cannot tolerate being under that much stress for that length of time. Once the baby comes out (either by assisted vaginal delivery or by C-section), the woman is left with a hole causing her to leak urine. Typically, her husband will leave her, and society will ostracize her because she smells like urine all the time. These women's stories are horribly tragic, and they stoically wear them on their faces. When they come to the screening days and are admitted, they refuse to look you in the face. Since, their injury, they have been starved from human touch, compassion, and love, some of them for years.

After the repair, a woman stays with us for two weeks while she heals. Watching the transformation take place over those two weeks is remarkable and a true testament to God's grace. Slowly, she will start to make eye contact; then she'll smile; then she'll no longer look surprised when you touch her; then she'll hug you back; then she'll celebrate God's mercy. When their healing is complete, we have a dress ceremony for each of them. They all get dressed up in a brand new full African dress (since all of their old clothes are urine stained), and we sing and dance and celebrate God and being a woman. Even now, just writing about it, brings tears to my eyes.

I've had several conversations with one of the translators about her misconceptions concerning how the fistula is formed. I have enjoyed helping her work out these misconceptions and see through to the truth. She was under the impression that the fistula is caused by the C-section itself. After some explanation, she decided that because these women wait days before going to the hospital, the fistula was formed prior to the C-section. Hopefully, she will pass that knowledge on to another woman so this tragic injury can be prevented.

20 years of dance training has paid off!

For those of you who have been to African church, know that it is a one of a kind experience rife with music and singing, shouting through a tinny-sounding PA system, and my personal favorite--dancing. The dancing can be both organized and spontaneous. Collecting the offering has a dance of its own even. This dance involves a lot of booty-shaking and gyrating. Beyonce would be proud.

This morning I had the privilege of attending African Catholic Mass. The county north of Monrovia is called Boimie County. Father Gary has been living there and working with the Liberians for 34 years. My newest cabin mates (Caroline & Sue) were going up this morning to take him a load of supplies and invited me to go along. The compound was quite impressive. Father Gary and the Catholic church have established a school, a clinic, and a technical school. They also have farming and agriculture regions with livestock. Of the children that go to school there, 65 of the boys live in the boarding houses. Most of the 65 boys are former boy soldiers who have been disarmed and are now receiving an education.

The war is a part of everyday conversation here. It is still very freshly felt by the Liberians. Every Liberian I have met has a relative who died in the war. I find it very sobering. Going to the mission today reminded me of how many people are in Liberia trying to make a difference. I find myself thinking about when Africa Mercy leaves Liberia more than when I leave. I know that when I leave here in September, the work will go on; effortlessly picked up by someone else. I was unsure about what will happen to the people of Liberia when AFM leaves. This is one reason why I have tried to get involved in the programs that existed pre-AFM and will be here once we leave. Because isn't that what Africa needs, sustainability? I have been blessed to see a part of these programs. A great deal of work remains to be done, but there are many people both native and expatriates committed to rebuilding a thriving Liberia.

On a more personal note, the AFM crew have suffered a tragic loss in the last week and we need your prayers as we try to move through it. A young man, Collin Carrol, drowned while swimming in the ocean last Sunday morning. He was 21-years-old, a recent graduate of Texas A&M, and the assistant dental coordinator aboard the ship. The three people who were with him when he died traveled to Texas with his body for the funeral, which was held yesterday. Please keep Collin's family, the three young adults, and the crew of AFM in your prayers. I would also ask you to pray specifically that God would be glorified through this tragedy.

Ahhh, Ship Life

As I look out the starboard side of the ship (aren't I impressive with all my nautical knowledge--that's the right side), I see a partially sunken, definitely not see-worthy vessel "docked" next to us. Apparently, this boat came in to dock because it was being taken out of commission and was just abandoned there. Within a few days, some very resourceful Liberians decided it would make a fine home. So, now a handful of Liberian men live there (I like to think they are pirates--but nice ones like Johnny Depp). We see them quite often, walking on the pier or swimming to shore with buoys in tow. We're told that piece by piece they remove items from the boat take them into Monrovia and sell them. They seem to be a peaceful enough group. I was very surprised the first time I saw them. However, I was even more surprised to see that quite often while their walking along the pier they are naked! Apparently, some of them can't be troubled to put on pants. I only mention this because yesterday while I was eating lunch one man was walking along the pier in a life jacket and nothing else! I really laughed at that! I guess he was given the choice: life jacket or pants, not both. Ahhh, ship life!

I have been on the ship for almost two weeks now and am definitely getting in the swing of things. The OR schedule has bulked up a little bit and next we will be running four ORs. The past two weeks we have run two or three. Next week we will have an eye team, an ortho team, and a VVF (gynecology) team here. The PACU is about to get quite a bit busier. I look forward to that. Paula left on Wednesday. I was very sad to see her go, but that is just another part of ship life. People are constantly coming and going. Gigi is the new recovery nurse that started on Monday. She will be here for one month. She and I have spent most of the week working out our process so we don't duplicate tasks or step on each others toes. It's a delicate dance that sometimes takes a few days.

The crew of the ship was under "ship arrest" yesterday because of the Liberian Independence Day (July 26th). National holidays always mean beefing up security, not that Mercy Ships is a target, but they would rather us be safe. There were rumors of riots being incited. However, because it was on a Thursday, many Liberians are putting off their celebrating/carousing until Saturday night. So, again on Saturday night, we'll be under ship arrest. I think I'll go onto the dock after dark and watch the fireworks. Anyone who has been around me on the 4th of July knows my love of fireworks!

Island Paediatric Hospital

On Saturday afternoon I went to Island Paediatric Hospital (no, I didn't spell that wrong). Island Paediatric is a Doctors Without Borders hospital that was built shortly after the civil war "finished." I use the word "finished" loosely. Mostly, the hospital treats malnutrition, HIV, pneumonia, and other related diseases. It is purely a medical facility; meaning no surgeries are done there.

As someone who typically feels very comfortable with children of all ages, it took me a while to figure out how to interact with the children. I sat down next to a very small toddler (whom I presume was being treated for malnutrition and had secondary pneumonia) and talked to him. He was too weak to talk and play. He held a blue colored pencil in one hand and a red balloon in the other. He simply watched the other children draw and play, longing to join them. Most of the other children had more energy and really enjoyed playing. Four children and four Mercy Ships crew, including myself, played catch in the covered courtyard of the hospital while the daily afternoon rain came down. I also colored with some of the children after the game of catch was over. I sketched pictures and the children colored them in (a make-shift coloring book). When we left, the mothers were very gracious to us for playing with their children and the children were sad to see us go.

One thing that I can count on is that the language of play is international. Children, despite their surrounding, will play and celebrate life even in the most tragic of circumstances. I have found this to be true in the US, as well as here in Liberia.

Swedish Aerobics

"Von an doo an dree an foor; juse jour bum!"

These are words that were shouted at me during my aerobics class on Wednesday night. One of the dining room staff teaches aerobics once a week to the crew who are stupid enough to put themselves through the agony. The class is rumored to be quite rigorous. I, however, thought, "I've been a dancer most of my life, how difficult can it be?" It was like Jane Fonda and Billy Blank on crack, not to mention that I was laughing for half of it because I kept picturing "Hans & Franz" yelling at me and trying to "pump me up!" Two days later, I am still a little sore. I do think I'll be going back for two reasons: 1. sheer entertainment and 2. with it being Liberia's rainy season, it is easy to go several days without getting outside of the ship. So it's nice doing something to stretch my sea legs.

There was finally a break in the rain today. The sun came out this afternoon and evening. I officially stepped off the ship for the first time since arriving! I took my camera and got some great pictures of the ship and the view from the ship. (I'll be posting those soon.) As I was wandering around the outside decks and the dock, I saw the lifeboats and immediately thought of Titanic (the movie). "Don't you understand? The ship is sinking and there aren't enough boats!" Ne'er you fear, there are enough boats, but more importantly the ship won't be leaving the dock while I'm on it. The captain has made it very clear that he won't be needing my assistance in driving the ship. Apparently, someone tipped him off on my less than stellar driving skills!

Thank you everyone for your comments! I love reading them. It's so encouraging being reminded of how many people are praying for me and thinking of me often. God is doing some amazing things here! I think the most remarkable thing I have seen since first starting work on Monday is the change in the children. As I think I mentioned before, we have done two orthopedic cases per day on toddlers. Earlier this week, the majority of the time walking past the children's ward you just heard crying and yelling. The majority of the crying was not from pain but from fear. (Those who have toddlers or have worked with toddlers know that there is difference in the way they cry.) When I would approach one of the children, you could see the fear washing over their faces. Today, I sat on the ward floor and had children bringing me books to read and toys to play with. One little girl, named Lady, crawled in my lap while we played and cried when I had to leave. It is such a joy to be able to watch these children come so far in just days!

A Pirate's Life for Me. . .

As of yet, I have not had to swab any decks or trim the main sail. Mostly because Africa Mercy (AFM) doesn't have a sail, but a giant engine that consistently provides a gentle vibration throughout the ship. I'm hoping to go to the bridge today to get in a quick lesson on how to steer this contraption should the captain become incapacitated and I need to fill in. I doubt it's much different than the Hyndai Santa Fe.

There are two of us who work in the Post-Anethesia Care Unit (PACU). She is an Aussie named Paula. We are having a good time getting to know each other and figuring out what to do, since PACU is not what either of us actually do at home. We have recovered 2 patients each day since Monday, mostly kids following orthopedic repairs of their legs. It's supposed to pick up next week when another specialty gets here. It has been nice though because I have been able to figure out more "ship stuff."

Yesterday evening the ship showed a documentary about the history of Liberia leading up to about 10 years ago. It was called "Liberia: America's Stepchild." It's a PBS film that is very well made and could probably be found at the library or Netflix if anyone is interested. For all you Red Box-ites, I doubt they carry it. It's very fascinating/appauling to see where Liberia has come from and to see it today.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I got here. The countryside is beautiful and lush; it looks so fertile juxtaposed to buildings that are literally shells of where life used to be. Someone more poetic than I would probably talk about it being ironic. I am looking forward to getting to know Liberia as a country and its people. Please continue to pray for the Liberians, for Liberia, and for me as I continue to figure out life here. I am doing well (not really jet lagged); I am still trying to find my place here. I suppose it will take more than 3 days. Fair enough.

Rejected Blog Titles

1. Molly's Magical Mongonlian Mercy Mission -- a little too long. Trying to see how many M-words we could string together and have it still make sense. 2. Molly's Mission -- definitely more concise; however, I'm not sure if alliteration is the way to go. and finally. . . 3. Missionary Style -- while I do laugh when I think about this title, it's obviously inappropriate.