I cannot believe we are more than midway through August. I hope you are enjoying the last few weeks of summer. Time is passing rather quickly for me in Liberia. Surgeries on the Africa Mercy are in full swing with eye, VVF, and orthopedic surgeries being performed daily. Us Mercy Ships nurses have been busy. Today was my first day off in over a week. An adjustment for a girl who is use to working three days a week and does not believe in overtime. My patients are far less acute than at home, but I am investing so much more emotionally. As a nurse, I get to be the point of contact between everything Mercy Ships does and the patients we serve. It a pretty big responsibility.
All well as being a nurse, I am writing twice a month for the Nursing advance magazine, as well as monthly for the Philadelphia Inquirer. Between the nursing and writing schedule I’ve been “plenty plenty” busy. I’m a little tired.
But it‘s the best sort of tired.
Philippians 2:16 says Holding forth the word of life; that I may rejoice in the day of Christ, that I have not run in vain neither labored in vain.
Never before had I realized how influenced my idea of wisdom has been influenced by my western culture. This experience is teaching me to appreciate the small moments in life. To take things one day at a time. To simply run without intensely calculating the destination. My head is daily filled with about ten new master plans for my life. Following Christ is such an adventure.
Ship life is a constant dichotomy. I get sick of eating peanut butter sandwiches and then visit a hospital full of malnourished children. I feel trapped on the ship (where I am safe) but then think of the translator who told me she’s is scared to sleep in her house at night because of the violence in Monrovia. I complain about working an endless number of shifts but then walk through the streets filled with people who can‘t find jobs. I get tired of being around people (four people have interrupted me while writing this email) but then meet a VVF patient who is an outcast in her community.
There is so much tension. And it’s sustenance is entirely an matter of perspective. The joy and the pain so closely intertwined.
Tonight I hung out with one of my patients, Esther. Esther has been here for two weeks. She’s 16 and completely sassy. We have become good friends. Yesterday, she was sad when I told her I was not working this weekend. So I promised to come visit. My friend, Crystal, and I stopped at the ship shop, bought soda’s, popcorn, and chocolate and headed to the ward. I grabbed Esther. We took the elevator (which I find far to scary to ride in…but for the sake of Esther I did it) to the 7th deck over looking the sea and hung out. It was a beautiful night with a cool breeze. We talked and laughed and ate junk food. Esther thoroughly enjoyed herself. So did Crystal and I. Not the way I would usually spend a Saturday night. But I would not want it any other way. It’s a such privilege to be here.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Eskimo kisses
Roosevelt is a seven year old Liberian boy. Three weeks ago, he was hit by a truck and broke his femur. I have taken care of vehicle vs. pedestrian trauma patients before and can tell you that Roosevelt is very lucky that his injuries were limited to a broken femur and some superficial abrasions. It could have been much worse.
Accidents are the number one killer of travelers to Africa. A fresh reminder to be careful when I'm walking on the street. And to always say a prayer before climbing in a taxi.
Roosevelt is twice lucky. Not only did he survive without any life threatening injuries but the Africa Mercy is in Liberia. He is one of our patients.
For the first 72 hours of Roosevelt's stay, he screamed. Seriously, for the full 72 hours. The Peace ward wasn't peaceful. Despite his scheduled narcotics and rescue doses of morphine, the air waves were filled with
"Oh, my leg, my leg."
"AHHH, I'm dying, oh Lord I'm dying."
"Mama, my foot itches. Scratch my foot, ahh, it itches."
From some of his comments, I had the impression that Roosevelt was probably a very naughty boy at home. The kind of boy who you will hide your teenage daughter from someday.
But last week, something changed.
Now, instead of greeting me with screams, he flashes me huge smiles. His two front permanent teeth are coming in and they currently have the cutest little gap between them. At least four times a shift I lean over Roosevelt's bed, rub my nose against his, and we both yell, "Eskimo kisses."
He loves to watch TV and is always requesting that I put a movie on. His favorite is The Crocodile Hunter. All I can say is "Crikey." I've watched it three times this week. I could probably recite the entire movie for you.
The staff here really goes the extra mile to let the patients know we care about them. It's most often in small, subtle mannerisms, but the message is loudly heard.
Roosevelt knows we care about him. I think that's why he now greets me Eskimo kisses instead of borderline profanities.
I prefer the Eskimo kisses.
Accidents are the number one killer of travelers to Africa. A fresh reminder to be careful when I'm walking on the street. And to always say a prayer before climbing in a taxi.
Roosevelt is twice lucky. Not only did he survive without any life threatening injuries but the Africa Mercy is in Liberia. He is one of our patients.
For the first 72 hours of Roosevelt's stay, he screamed. Seriously, for the full 72 hours. The Peace ward wasn't peaceful. Despite his scheduled narcotics and rescue doses of morphine, the air waves were filled with
"Oh, my leg, my leg."
"AHHH, I'm dying, oh Lord I'm dying."
"Mama, my foot itches. Scratch my foot, ahh, it itches."
From some of his comments, I had the impression that Roosevelt was probably a very naughty boy at home. The kind of boy who you will hide your teenage daughter from someday.
But last week, something changed.
Now, instead of greeting me with screams, he flashes me huge smiles. His two front permanent teeth are coming in and they currently have the cutest little gap between them. At least four times a shift I lean over Roosevelt's bed, rub my nose against his, and we both yell, "Eskimo kisses."
He loves to watch TV and is always requesting that I put a movie on. His favorite is The Crocodile Hunter. All I can say is "Crikey." I've watched it three times this week. I could probably recite the entire movie for you.
The staff here really goes the extra mile to let the patients know we care about them. It's most often in small, subtle mannerisms, but the message is loudly heard.
Roosevelt knows we care about him. I think that's why he now greets me Eskimo kisses instead of borderline profanities.
I prefer the Eskimo kisses.
Friday, August 17, 2007
boy george
This is a picture I took of My roomoate Michelle and a patient of ours, George. George has had some very sad things happen to him, but you would never know it by his smiles. All the nurses adore him.
caring
It's been a long week. I haven't had entire day off for a whole week. Me, who is use to my three-day a week work schedule. I'm looking forward to the weekend (I have off).
Even though my patients are far less acute then they were back home (I worked in a pediatric ICU) my shifts can be just as tiring. Any nurse would understand.
Being a nurse really requires giving of every part of yourself to your patients. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually.
In Africa, I think we all try to give our patients a little more.
In America, I cared about my patients. My favorite moments at my job occurred when I had five non-task oriented minutes to give someone a little extra TLC. They were five treasured minutes.
But at the end of the day my motivations for working, regardless of how help-oriented my profession, were selfish. I worked for a paycheck. For health insurance. To occupy myself. (which I do think are all valid and good reasons to work)
But on the Africa Mercy, it's a little different. None of us are here for a paycheck. We are actually paying to be here.
Caring is not just a part of our job. It's the reason we came in the first place. It's our motivation.
We care about the physical and spiritual healing of our patients. We care about 16 year old Esther whose hand was thrown in a fire when she was three. We care about 15 year old Teemah who was shot several times as a baby while she was on her mother's back. We care about George, who was mutilated with a pair of scissors when he was two. We care about Mary whose lack of obstetric care left her body constantly pouring out urine.
It takes a little more energy to care. To love. To take those five minutes and run with them. But that's why I came to Africa. Because I do care.
Esther is going to be here for a few weeks while her skin graft on her hand heals. She's already been here for two weeks. Yesterday, three of her ward friends were discharged. Emmanuel's care taker told me Esther cried all night and all morning, but when I came to work, she was happy.
Esther and I are friends. She knows I care about her.
It really makes everything worthwhile.
Even though my patients are far less acute then they were back home (I worked in a pediatric ICU) my shifts can be just as tiring. Any nurse would understand.
Being a nurse really requires giving of every part of yourself to your patients. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually.
In Africa, I think we all try to give our patients a little more.
In America, I cared about my patients. My favorite moments at my job occurred when I had five non-task oriented minutes to give someone a little extra TLC. They were five treasured minutes.
But at the end of the day my motivations for working, regardless of how help-oriented my profession, were selfish. I worked for a paycheck. For health insurance. To occupy myself. (which I do think are all valid and good reasons to work)
But on the Africa Mercy, it's a little different. None of us are here for a paycheck. We are actually paying to be here.
Caring is not just a part of our job. It's the reason we came in the first place. It's our motivation.
We care about the physical and spiritual healing of our patients. We care about 16 year old Esther whose hand was thrown in a fire when she was three. We care about 15 year old Teemah who was shot several times as a baby while she was on her mother's back. We care about George, who was mutilated with a pair of scissors when he was two. We care about Mary whose lack of obstetric care left her body constantly pouring out urine.
It takes a little more energy to care. To love. To take those five minutes and run with them. But that's why I came to Africa. Because I do care.
Esther is going to be here for a few weeks while her skin graft on her hand heals. She's already been here for two weeks. Yesterday, three of her ward friends were discharged. Emmanuel's care taker told me Esther cried all night and all morning, but when I came to work, she was happy.
Esther and I are friends. She knows I care about her.
It really makes everything worthwhile.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
abstractions from deck 8
I really like taking pictures. Not for any particular reason. Just because I like it. It's a little scary to take your camera outside in Monrovia. You aren't allowed to take pictures in the ward. So tonight I went up to deck 8 and had some fun. Just because.
the lines of my earth
a few lines that have been floating through my head this week..
"...Time and place are fluid, and history runs into the present, and the present is always straining into the afterlife so that nothing is only what it seems." National Geographic
"The man who comes to a right belief about God is relieved of ten thousand temporal problems, for he sees at once that these have to do with matters which at the most cannot concern him for very long; but even if the multiple burdens of time may be lifted from him, the one mighty single burden of eternity begins to press down upon him with a weight more crushing than all the woes of the world piled one upon another." A.W. Tozer
"...Time and place are fluid, and history runs into the present, and the present is always straining into the afterlife so that nothing is only what it seems." National Geographic
"The man who comes to a right belief about God is relieved of ten thousand temporal problems, for he sees at once that these have to do with matters which at the most cannot concern him for very long; but even if the multiple burdens of time may be lifted from him, the one mighty single burden of eternity begins to press down upon him with a weight more crushing than all the woes of the world piled one upon another." A.W. Tozer
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