"They Do Happen..."

Miracles...once in awhile God will do something that will WOW us all.  We have had a couple of really rough weeks on the wards and were in need of encouragement.  This time God reached out and personally and encouraged all of us.  Here is a what Ali wrote on her blog...

"Yesterday, when I was writing to you about my adventures in Ghana, all I was thinking about was the little baby down in the ICU.


My office day had suddenly turned clinical when Jenn paged me. Can you help us with the baby, she asked, breathless, and then hung up. There was no question which baby she meant; Obre (or O'Brian; we're not entirely sure which name is his, since his mama uses them interchangeably) is the continuation of last week's sadness. At four months, Obre tips the scales at a hair over six and a half pounds, small even for a newborn. He has a bilateral cleft lip and palate, and was very, very sick.

Three seconds later, when I was at his bedside in B Ward, Jenn met my eyes and my heart sank as I realized that we were losing, that it all felt far too much like Baby Greg. We knelt together with Obre's nurse, holding the mask to his face as he struggled to breathe, and we knew that it wasn't looking good.

This time, though, we had something we didn't have back when Baby Greg was with us; a ventilator that can give support through a mask, the less invasive step before a breathing tube. With this huge tool in our arsenal, the decision was quickly made to transfer Obre to the ICU and let the ventilator help him breathe.

It took a long time to get him settled, and all the while I felt a sickening sense of déjà vu, watching his pitiful struggles mirroring Baby Greg's, so long ago. All that kept running through my mind was, But we lost Baby Greg. And we lost Ani. And we can't lose any more. It took forever, but Obre was finally settled and I headed to bed, fully expecting to come to work in the morning and find that he had deteriorated overnight to the point of needing the breathing tube.

Instead, the ship is buzzing with news of the miracle.

Around midnight, Obre started to spiral downwards, his heart racing and his oxygen saturations falling. His nurse, Natalie, tried every trick in the book, but soon realized that nothing was helping. She called anesthesia who called Dr. Gary and they gathered around the baby in the dark of the night. They quickly decided to intubate, since there was no way Obre would survive otherwise. Natalie and another ICU nurse, Jenny, moved to collect supplies and draw up medications, preparing for the procedure. As they worked, they looked over to see Dr. Gary, his head bowed, hands on the baby, praying to Jehovah Rophi. It was 12:20.

At 12:25, Obre's oxygen saturations increased from sixty to a hundred percent. His racing heart slowed to normal, and the bewildered nurses put down the tools they had collected. The surgeon and anesthetist slipped away, and Obre was left, requiring just a little oxygen blowing hear his face to keep him stable. No mask. No tube. No ventilator. Absolutely no medical explanation.

There was a miracle last night. My heart has been full to bursting all day long knowing that God is so absolutely here. That He cares for each little sparrow baby, knowing that this one was falling and intervening in a way that leaves no room for doubt.

As I type, our sparrow baby is either tucked into a nest of pillows and blankets or snuggled into his mama's arms, where he's been all day, breathing easily.

We had a miracle last night. Do you know how exciting it is to be able to say that?"

"Happiness Is..."

Many years ago (actually I was about 12 years old) in school I remember learning a song called "Happiness Is".   Some of the lyrics I can remember are:  "Happiness is two kinds of ice cream, finding your skate key, telling the time... Happiness is walking hand in hand."  I have been mentally composing my "Happiness Is" list about what I have come to appreciate while living aboard the Africa Mercy.  I know it may sound silly but living on a ship, with around 400 other people from 30 plus different countires, in West Africa serving the poorest of the poor puts a whole new perspective on life.

Happiness Is...:

• Times of quietness and rest
• Mail
• Phone calls from friends and family
• Emails from friends and family
• Air Conditioning
• A fan (for when the Air Conditioning is not working)
• Hugs from my husband, children, and friends
• Hugs from grateful patients or patient's moms
• A smile from eye patients who can now see
• Day Volunteers who can translate for me
• Having people to pray with
• West African dancing, singing, and drums
• A pool on a hot day
• Patient's before and after pictures
• Balloons and bubbles
• A good book
• Doing work that has meaning and purpose

"He Is Risen..."

Easter aboard the Africa Mercy is a very special time.  We are celebrating our risen Lord and Saviour.  He is the reason behind everything we are and everything that we do in our lives and aboard the ship. 

Our day began at 5:30 am with a sunrise service.

We had a quiet time of worship to our risen King.

Then at 8:00 am we all gathered in the International Lounge for a more formal time of worship and celebration.  Where Congressman Gohmert of Texas, delivered a very inspiring message.

After the service our galley staff treated us to an amazing Easter Brunch.

Then we spent the afternoon at the house of  one of Deb's day volunteers.

We were served roasted chicken and a local maize (ground corn) dish that you ate with tomatoes, green peppers and onions.

 It has been a very memorable Easter Celebration. 

"In Christ Alone..."

As we approach Ressurection Sunday, the song "In Christ Alone" has been running through my mind.  It is a very powerful song that captues the essence of Easter.  This Easter, may you grow to know God's love for you in Christ, deeper and deeper. May you know the power of the resurrection.  May you stand in Christ alone.

In Christ alone my hope is found

He is my light, my strength, my song

This Cornerstone, this solid ground

Firm through the fiercest drought and storm

What heights of love, what depths of peace

When fears are stilled, when strivings cease

My Comforter, my All in All

Here in the love of Christ I stand

In Christ alone, who took on flesh

Fullness of God in helpless babe

This gift of love and righteousness

Scorned by the ones He came to save

‘Til on that cross as Jesus died

The wrath of God was satisfied

For every sin on Him was laid

Here in the death of Christ I live

There in the ground His body lay

Light of the world by darkness slain

Then bursting forth in glorious Day

Up from the grave He rose again

And as He stands in victory

Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me

For I am His and He is mine

Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt in life, no fear in death

This is the power of Christ in me

From life’s first cry to final breath

Jesus commands my destiny

No power of hell, no scheme of man

Can ever pluck me from His hand

‘til He returns or calls me home

Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand

Newsboys

"Blood Bank..."

Besides donating our energy and time to the patients, the crew also donates blood.  Since we are a surgrical hospital, times arise when a patient who is in surgery, needs blood.  The closest blood bank then becomes our crew.  Today Mike had the privilage of sharing his blood with a patient.

"The Heart..."

 I sit here looking at the computer screen trying to process the day.  What a day...not one I care to repeat any time soon.  I had met with one of the nurses this morning, we both made the comment that it is Monday...a new day...a new week...hopefully we would not be repeating last weeks rough week.  But God had other plans for A Ward, which has become our pallative care ward.

The over head page came "Emergency medical team to A Ward...emergency medical team to A ward."  Immediately everyone on the medical team flies into motion.  Those not on the medical team know what to do...pray.

Last week Baby Annicette came back to us.  She was a with us in Benin last year.  Ani, was 14 months and only a former shadow of the thriving baby we remember her as.  For some reason she was no longer thriving...she was literally skin and bones...chronically malnourished.  The medical team suspected she may have had a metabolic disorder.

A few minutes later, my pager goes off.  "We need you to be with Ani's mom."  This is not good.  I go rushing down to A Ward and one of the nurses and I take Zenabou, Ani's mama, to a quiet room.  We sit with her, pray with her, cry with her.  Another nurse comes in and says "Ani is gone."  Quietly and gently we break the news to mama (who has already lost one child to this strange metabolic disorder and is currently four months pregnant)  "Ani is with Jesus."  We hold her.  Let her wail.  Feel her breaking heart.

This evening I go back to A ward.  I know a husband of a patient has come to see his wife.  She has cancer.  She is inoperable.  She is pallative.  He is hoping to be able to transfer her to France for surgery.  He is hoping his beautiful wife is better than the day before.

I had sat with her earlier today.  Her cold frail hand in mine.  Praying hard that the nurses, who were probing her feet, would find a viable vein to draw blood from would have success this time.  I look at her face.  She is so young, so beautiful.  I listen to her laboured breaths, thinking this is not going well.

As I walked into the ward tonight there is a flurry of activity going on.  I get one of my translators and we kneel beside the husband and pray with him.  Comfort him.  Pray peace over him.  The medical team is like an orchestra.  Each person knowing their part, each person playing their part...working in unity and harmony.  We take the husband to the same quiet room where Ani's mama was just an hour ago. 

The room is no longer quiet.  It becomes filled with the desperate pleas and cries of a man whose heart is breaking for the love of his life.  He shares with me she is everything to him.  She is more than his half, she is his life.  "Jehovah", he says "will not let him down...she will be healed."  I share with him that sometimes God heals on this side of heaven and sometimes on the otherside.

I relay messages back and forth from the medical team to the husband.  "She is on a machine helping her to breath" I explain to him.  "If it were not for the machine, she would not be alive" I gently try to tell him.  Hoping somehow to begin to prepare this man for the inevitable.  My team member continues to pray with him, I continue to wait for news.

"She is somewhat stable." I tell him.  "You'll  be able to be with her in a few minutes."

As I walk back to my cabin.  I am numb.  What a day.  I stare at the cursor on the screen blinking on an off like a heart beat.  The heart.  Two broken today.

"On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night.  Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings.  My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me." Psalms 63:6-7

"Maintenance..."

One of the things about living on a ship is that it is in need of continual maintenance.  This may consist of many different aspects from cleaning tanks, to replacing rods in the cooling system, to continual painting.  But before the new coat of paint can go on the old needs to come off.  Now we live on a metal ship.  The way to get paint off of a metal ship is by needle gun. Now for someone who has never heard of needle gunning before, it sounds rather like a Woodpecker.  Now think of a Woodpecker resonating through a metal hull.  So we have had the delight of the needle gunning outside our cabin.

Ropes are anchored from Deck 8 and the Day Volunteers work over the side on the side of the ship.  I am glad it is not me on the plank!  But we are truly thankful for their work to keep our home looking wonderful.