It's Monday---

I thought I could give you a peek at my Monday, in case you care! (Which if you are taking the time to read the blog I really hope you do--if you don’t, then stop reading creeper). Just kidding, none of you are creepers--I hope. 

Today I got to sleep in! Today was my “weekend” and It. Was. Simply. Wonderful! After I arose I had a 2 hour coffee date with friends, ate lunch, and then headed to a nearby hotel. It is a beautiful place that allows Mercy Ships Crew to use the pool free of charge! (as long as we buy something to eat or drink). It is a truly relaxing experience, and if you don’t look over the tops of the buildings you could be anywhere in the world. Palm trees surrounding, beautiful pool, sipping on a drink. But if you happen to look up you will see the smog of the city, and black smoke billowing out of a nearby smokestack. So we keep our eyes down, pleasantly reading a book, trying to forget what faces us just outside the gates. Insane poverty, lack of clean water, children dying of malnutrition and malaria. At dinner I was talking with one of the Anesthesiologists here on the ship. She was speaking about their recent trip to a local hospital, the one in which our Hope Center is located. Their job was to clean and sterilize their sterilization room, which in theory should already be sterile. When they arrived they were amazed. Searching for words to describe what she saw, she used the image from the first “SAW” movie. (Horror film circa 2006). She said it was tile floor to ceiling, there was dried blood everywhere, needles and scalpels littered about. Where the window should have been there was no glass, but an open area to the dirty world outside. There were two windows looking into an operating room on each side. In one, a C-section was taking place. She said she was horrified at the lack of proper equipment being used, lack of drapes, sterile technique, or once the baby was born- care for the new infant. She said she was in tears watching, unable to step in. They spent HOURS scrubbing the room, careful not to be stuck by the rubbish. Even with their best efforts, unfortunately one nurse was stuck by a needle that was sitting in the grout of the tile.  I know we have a policy for sticks here, but please pray that it was somehow a clean stick and that she doesn’t get HIV or Hepatitis while serving here in Guinea. At one point in their day, she even had a lizard jump out of where she was cleaning and scurry out the window. She said upon arrival back to the ship she didn’t care about the 2 minute shower rule, but stood under the water trying to scald her skin clean. Not being there, but simply hearing her experience brings up so much in me, to know what the reality is here. Sure, I can sit on my nice little ship, adventure to my cozy little places in town, venture out and see mountains, but I can’t escape the reality that these people have. They live in a place that you will almost certainly die before you receive surgery, and if you don’t die from the surgery you probably will die from the infection. Could you imagine taking your family member to a hospital knowing that they probably won’t make it out alive? Would you take them knowing that just about 20 feet away from the entrance there is a dumpster that the vultures circle, and that if you are brave enough to peek over the side you will see body parts that have been amputated. Would you take them knowing that they would risk having surgery awake, because you are unable to afford the medications? Would you take them to a place where you can hear people screaming in agony for help? As you read this I am almost certain that you would say NO! Absolutely NOT! But I am here to tell you this, YES- you probably would, because it would be your only chance. You would, because it is all that you know. Your reality is that hospitals are where people die, and that you only get help if you have the money ready to wave in their face. Your reality would be what I see all around me. You would risk the infection for the surgery, and you would do it just to try to keep their life. It should make you angry, just as it makes me angry. But what can we do? We are here to do all that we can, but even with this big white ship we can’t save everyone. We can’t swoop in and change the world, just because my chest aches. I can’t just change the world with my love, banishing away all hurts and transforming it to glory. What I know is that I can’t, but I can change it for the people who are lucky enough to come to our ship. That my time here will be marked by the faces of the people who come so gladly, trust us so deeply, and thank us so often because they have no other choice. Any time I hand over a medication or prepare someone for surgery they do it, no matter what I say, because they trust me with all of their hearts. 

Tonight I spent some time down in the ward trying to clear my mind with one of our newest patients who has been pulling on my heartstrings since the moment I saw him at screening. He is 38, a former professional football player (soccer), and his life changed drastically five years ago when a bump appeared on his right cheek. His story is full of heartache, and will bring you to tears, it has been a long and twisty road, but it has brought his mere 90 lbs of skin and bones here to us. To this ship, where he is receiving the best care he could every imagine. Where he has swiftly gotten a Tracheostomy and a feeding tube into his stomach so that he can be promised air and nutrition. He will stay in our ward for at least a month, trying to gain a few pounds to even become strong enough for surgery. I promise to tell you more about him later, but for now I can tell you this. He has wonderfully kind eyes, he grips your hand as though his life may drastically change at any moment, that at one point he was teaching children all over the nation football, that he worries more about his mom than himself, he beats me at every single game we play, and that he is a fighter. So as I sat in the ward tonight on my day off playing games with him while my favorite little man “L” squirmed in my lap. I tried to remember that I can’t change the world, but that I can do my very best to change theirs. That my love will never be enough for this entire nation, but that I can love these two with every fiber of my being. I can be a light for them, and I can show them love through my words and actions. I know that I will be changed day by day walking through their triumphs and struggles, and I hope that one day I will find the words to explain this to the two of them.  I pray that I will be able to express that I came here to try and help them, but that they are in fact helping me, every single day. That they are transforming my heart and making it ache in ways I didn’t know were possible. That they are pushing me to become a better person, to do more, and to work harder to change even a small corner of this world.