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.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
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?
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?
Saturday, August 11, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, August 6, 2007
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.
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.
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