Prescreening

It’s not often that a ship filled with 400 volunteers whose goal is to provide medical care flows out into the street. The past two weeks have been a constant coming and going that leaves the streets of Pointe-Noire with a laundry list of questions. Why are you here? What do you mean you live on a ship in the port? What kind of surgery do you do? Can you take me to your ship? Some people look at our skin and guess that we are from the big white hospital ship others have no idea why we are here. Once we tell them that we are here to provide medical care, the question that always follows is what types of things can you help me with? We explain about our specialties; Orthopaedic for children less than 15 years of age, cleft lips, cleft palates, facial tumors, VVF, hernias, cataracts, dental problems...People are typically excited to hear, and It can be a compelling thing to meet potential patients out in the streets. Instructing them to come to our screening day, leaving them with bits of paper with the screening day details and hoping that they will turn up. It can also be a hard thing, when you meet people with very real needs, but unfortunately just not something we can help with. Our taxi driver the other evening actually brought his child to us, just to make sure after we had instructed him that it sounded like something we couldn’t help with. It was an obvious neurologic deficit...something that as much as we all wanted to, we just can’t help. It’s something after a year of being here that you will certainly have to do, but it never gets easier to squash someone’s hope. The look in their eyes as you say, “ I’m so sorry, but we can’t help” is the absolute worst. To see that glimmer leave, to see their hearts sink, and to watch as they pull their emotion back and say thank you. It’s heartbreaking--as much as we want to change their world, we can’t. What we can do is leave them with ideas for comfort measures, and some prayer-- which sometimes feels like a courtesy prize...but I know that our God can take care of things. That he cares for all of us, even that little boy who may never walk, talk, or be considered normal...

As we prep for our big screening day on Wednesday, we are anticipating thousands of people. The team has been planning for months and it’s all hands on deck as we near closer to the day when we will meet so many of our prospective patients over the course of 12 hours....

One story that has left an impact I think on so many of us here on the ship is the story of our first patient. Monday the 12th my friend Mirjam flew in from Holland. The group that came that evening was one the first to arrive by plane into the Congo. That evening we all were able to see the way God weaves our lives together. How he is a constant provider, and how faithful he is. There is a man who lived in Nigeria. He has had a tumor for 12 years, and has been unable to receive help. Recently someone told him that he should go to the Mercy Ship--that they (we) would be able to help. So he found out where we would be next, and he saved, and he put himself on a plane to the Republic of Congo. He boarded the plane with hope and the dream to have his surgery. I can’t imagine all of that planning, determination, and drive only to arrive in the country, and then think---how exactly do I find this ship?

But as I said, God provides. That evening he was sitting out near the airport, and he saw a flip of a sign that had the Mercy Ships logo printed on it. That sign was held by one of our crew, there to pick up a group of arrivals. This could be where the story ended, that moment of sheer joy when he found the ship! But it’s get’s much better than that.....In that group of arrivals happened to be two of the four screening coordinators. (pretty much the very very best possible people to be in the presence of in his current situation). He explained his situation and they jumped into work mode, literally 30 minutes after touching down on Congolese soil. They found him a place to stay that evening, and now he is living at our unopened Hope Center-awaiting screening day this coming weekend.  Can you imagine how many things in that scenario could have gone wrong? How he could have not seen the sign, or how there could have been a different group flying in? But no--God is good, and he put everyone in the right place that evening to provide for the first patient of the outreach. 

Looking forward to this week we need God’s provision. We need his hand on all of us as we try to carry out his work here in the Republic of Congo. We need wisdom, discernment, and stretch to carry out his beautifully orchestrated plan..

#sail with us

A view from the top deck--Does this make you a wee bit nauseous? 

Don't worry--we didn't have to use them!

....Beautiful blue seas....

Yes-we flew kites, and yes-some of them were homemade

Just a few of the dolphins along the way who came to play in our waves

Home Sweet Ship

Photos from the day we hit land!

 View from Deck 7

 Our Pilot ---with the advance team!

 Josh- the first Mercy Shipper to touch Congolese soil on that day!

 Waving hello to the port!

 Our "ambulance" at the arrival ceremony

 The gangway being brought down

 It's almost ready!

 Can you see which one of the paparazzi belongs to us?

 Watching the festivities from the deck

We are now open for visitors!

We have arrived!

We have docked in Pointe-Noire! The gangway is down, we have made our formal introductions, and have re-welcomed the advance team. After country briefings, currency exchanges, immigrations, and all the other details that go into brining a big white hospital ship with 300 volunteers into a country we are hoping to be able to at least set our feet on land and walk a bit on the dock tonight. Hopefully our first Congolese adventure will begin tomorrow! More photos and details to come from our journey and arrival ceremony.....its just so great to say, we're alive and in the Congo--let the adventures begin!

A week on the high seas....

We have been sailing across the ocean blue for 8 days now. 8 full days of crashing waves, sitting in hammocks, gazing at ocean life, and star filled nights aboard the Africa Mercy. Deciding to live your life on a ship has it’s perks, and sailing is one of them! In June the sailing from Guinea to the Canary Islands was a different story. I didn’t love the bouncing of the waves, or the cooped up feeling--this sail has been a completely different story. Turns out after a few days you actually get used to the constant feeling of “catching air” and the swaying actually becomes a comforting motion that rocks you to sleep. I’m not exactly sure where we are, and even if I knew I couldn’t tell you for security reasons. But I know this--we are past Guinea-- this is entirely new territory for me and many others aboard. It’s a new experience that we are all embarking upon together. The air is thick with anticipation of what is to come- a whole new ballgame, and one that we can’t wait to start. 

---Somewhere in the next few days we will cross the Equator and the Prime Meridian at the same time--0 degrees latitude and 0 degrees longitude. To most of you (and to me until about 1 week ago) this means nothing......but as I have learned, this is something that very few people will ever do in their life, and for the sailing world it gives you the prestigious title of  “Royal Diamond Shellback”. Currently I am still a “slimy pollywog”, but in the next few days that will change! --> If you don’t believe me google it--I swear it’s the real deal!

---As crazy as life can be on this ship, it’s home. Where else in the world do you fly kites off the back of the ship, watch movies almost every night, lay for hours in a hammock, and have pirate dance parties complete with eye patches, swords, and pirate tattoos?....This life surrounded by friends in the same season doing something you love is simply the best, and no matter how many times you do it, it is still bizarre to look out the window and realize that your home is puttering along down the ocean with only the horizon in sight....

Six weeks

Six Weeks---It seems like a long time, but when it’s all you have to catch up with friends, family, and supporters it feels quite ridiculously short. I was greeted by the best friends in the whole world at the airport, and from that moment on I never stopped moving. Six weeks were broken down to this: a short few days in St. Louis, a week with family on vacation, a week back in St. Louis meeting up with several friends per day, a rainy week with two amazing friends in North Carolina, a weekend at home, a week back in STL, a fantastic weekend with two friends from the ship, one more week roaming about between 4 different cities to see friends and my grandparents, and POOF! Six weeks had flown by and I was spending my birthday with my two best friends, stopping by a few houses for one more hug, dinner with my parents, and finished the night packing my bags to head off on another year long adventure. On the ship looking forward to life at home was something I was holding on to towards the end of the outreach, but to be honest the transition was sort of difficult at first. I roamed about feeling as though my eyes were open like a bugs and I was completely unable to form coherent sentences. What exactly was overwhelming? Everything. Every single thing. Having friends and family so close, driving a car, going for a walk by myself, going out in public and having everyone understand, dogs on leashes, grass, trees, clean streets and cross walks. The list goes on and on, the wonderful US of A was just too much. Simple daily things like ordering a beer were tough- the options were endless and I had spent the last 10 months with three very similar options. Some days I was fine, then there were others, like the day the face-wash aisle at Target got the best of me. After 10 months of cherishing any half used left behind bottle I could find on ship having an entire aisle to choose from was a breaking point. About 3 weeks in to my time at home I got over my shock, and really sank back into life. I LOVE home, I love the people, the places, the sights, the sounds and smells. I love being able to call a great friend to meet up for coffee at the drop of a hat. I love sitting down for long chats with cherished friends and I love the ease of getting around. I loved the speed of internet, the long distance drives to see friends and the convenience of grocery shopping. By the end of my time I wasn’t ready to go. I had finally fit back in and life was looking great! I had found my groove, reconnected with people, and I wasn’t ready to give up the comfort and familiarity again. There were days I just wasn’t sure, and then I would show someone my photos or talk about life on the AFM and realize that it is exactly where I am supposed to be. Home is easy and wonderful, but in Africa I can use my skills to do something I fully believe in. It was hard to go, and I miss everyone already, but I know that this is in my plan and it is my given purpose. Six weeks flew by, and it was a wonderful taste of what I love so much...but for now, it’s back the the Africa Mercy I go........see you next year USA! 

The taxi man...

     This past week was a roller coaster ride, ups and downs and more ups. The week was full to the brim as our time in the hospital came to a close. It has been so amazing seeing this whole service start to finish. When I came to the ship we were unpacking things, putting together charts, praying over the beds that would soon be filled. And now, we do the exact opposite, breaking down charts and taking beds down one by one as their occupants return back to their families and villages, stashing things away until we will need them again in the next country. The patients were condensed down into D ward on Wednesday and the other three wards were broken down and packed away. The majority of our patients left Thursday...... all but one actually.There was one lone patient on the ward Thursday evening, and guess who that man was-- My “T”. He is hands down my very favorite patient of this whole outreach, and he pretty much has been a constant in the ever changing wards. It was really nice to have him around until the very last day--sort of incredible actually. We took him out to dinner Thursday night as a special treat, and on our way back something happened that I want to share with you all.

     As we were walking back, T said that maybe we should walk down this side street instead of the main road. I replied, “It’s okay T, we are champions of this town, we know where we are going”, he laughed and shook his head, but since we were looking for a pair of sunglasses to protect his eye, we ended up walking down a side road after all. As we got closer to the ship, T slowed down near a corner. He began talking to Sam, one of our chaplains who had come to dinner with us. As the two men were talking Sam simply stopped walking, and was just look intently at T as he listened closely, hanging on to every word. Sam then relayed this story to us, it warmed my heart and I think it will touch yours too.

     After we first met T at the big screening day in September, he came to the ship and stayed overnight for a biopsy. The next day he was driven back to the assembly point in the city, and dropped off with all other patients. It was a rainy day, and there were few taxis running. T was feeling weak and pretty empty, it was yet another tough day with a nearly 12 pound tumor crushing his face and airway. As they sat on the curb trying to catch a taxi, not a single one would stop and the ones that slowed would keep going when they saw him. They sat there for quite some time in the rain, and T was feeling pretty low. While they were waiting, a man happened to look out of his home and could tell that T was suffering. He came out and spoke to them, and then promptly stopped the next taxi that drove by. He asked them where they were going, and then asked the taxi driver how much that would cost to rent the car as “private” for their voyage. 50,000 GNF, nearly 8 USD, the driver replied quickly, knowing full and well that it was an unfair price. Without hesitation the man handed over the money without even trying to bargain for a fair rate. He put T and his Mom in the car, wished them well, and sent them on their way. That day he did something that he could have possibly never known the outcome of. He did not know that T would fight the biggest battle of his life and win, he simply saw T and made the conscious decision to better him, without asking for anything in return. In a country where most believe those with tumors to be cursed, this gesture is unheard of. This stranger stepped out of his comfort, looked past his disfiguring tumor, and provided for another human being who was in a desperate place. He gave what he could, very possibly using his own food or rent money to bestow a blessing on a complete stranger. Watching T’s face as he told this story, I know that it was a moment he will never ever forget, a bright spot in his many years of darkness. Every time he comes to the ship, he stops by this corner and shakes the man’s hand who made it possible for him to keep going that day.....As we walked by he was sitting outside, and we were able to shake his hand and thank him for what he did for our friend, our fighter, our beloved T. This is just one of the many things that I have learned here. That you don’t have to be a millionaire, or even have much, but you will always have something, no matter how small, that can change someones life.