Patches Off

I headed out to the dockside unit today to see if I could catch "Old Lady" when her eye patch came off. She'd already had hers removed, but there were several other post-op patients in line to have their patches removed and eyesight checked. Two women in particular caught my attention. When their patches came off, huge smiles danced across their faces. Outside the tent the translators were leading a worship time, so the sounds of music carried inside. I asked the first woman if she could see and she responded, "I can't sing, but I can dance!" Hands lifted up she bounced around in her seat. I don't take the time often enough to stop in and capture these events. It put a bounce in MY step and a chuckle in my voice as I thought back to the women who were so excited this morning. Makes it all worthwhile.

Old Lady

No, I'm not talking about myself when I say "Old Lady," though I keep inching closer to that status. Today I helped relocate the patients awaiting cataract surgery from the pilot entrance to the recovery room. One of the women I led down the hallway was named Old Lady. What's with a name like that? I wondered what it would be like to call a baby Old Lady or if perhaps she had started out simply as Lady and picked up the adjective as she aged. And if she picked it up as she aged, when did she cross the magic line? According to WHO, average life expectancy for women at birth here in Liberia is currently 46; in neighboring Sierra Leone it is 42. Approximately one of four children in these countries die before they reach their fifth birthday. Startling, isn't it, in this day and age?

I've been thinking about age recently. My great uncle sent an email last week notifying my siblings, cousins and me of what would have been my grandfather's 100th birthday if he were still alive...but he died before I was born. I'm a year older than my grandfather was at his death. Sometimes I think of all he did with his short life and wonder if I have done enough with mine. I can only say that I have obeyed the call of my Father in heaven and given back to him what he has given to me. I confess it hasn't always been done joyfully nor has it always been done as quickly as perhaps it should have been, so don't think I'm anyone special! I'll be the first to tell you I'm not.

I had NO intention of going here with this post when I started...I was just going to tell you about Old Lady. Together with 25 others today, Old Lady received the gift of sight. And today someone cared enough about Old Lady to find out what her real name was, the one they called her as a child. Once upon a time there was a young girl named Denae (sp?), who grew up, grew blind, and received back her sight on a white ship in Africa. And for a little while today I had the privilege of walking beside her.

Diligence of Duty and Other Observations

Just three brief updates on previous posts:
Wednesday night I ran out to a downtown restaurant for takeout and on the way home I turned on the radio. I was amused to hear that someone was on trial for "diligence of duty." It will be a while before Liberia is back on its feet if diligence of duty has become a crime :)

When I checked the Liberia news alerts, I read that a UN helicopter crashed on landing at Greenville. That's where we flew last month to screen for patients and where I had been uneasy enough about the trip that I wrote out a revised will the night before leaving. The good news is that none of the four crew members on board at the time were injured.

Meanwhile, neighboring Guinea (it circles around Sierra Leone, so it is north of Liberia along the coast, but east of Liberia inland) continues to experience unrest, with a military revolt this past week over the issue of back pay. The trigger for this latest event was the President's removal of the Prime Minister. This doesn't strike me as the stablest of West African nations, but Mercy Ships has decided to go there in 2010. Alimou may have trouble getting home if the flights are interrupted this week.

Avoid Securing Good Health

I should be going to sleep, but I just read this article online and had to comment. Reading many (not all) African newspapers is an entirely unique entertainment, as they strive to sound professional and it so often falls flat. The following is from a story about a father of new triplets, appealing for financial aid:

"Commenting on his means of survival, Mr. George, in a rather sad tone said he previously served as a watchman but that doctors advised him to quit the job to avoid securing good health (emphasis mine), while his wife who previously sold cold water to generate funds for the family also abandoned the business due to her pregnancy."

Tell me, what is so dangerous about good health that one should do everything within his power to avoid it?!?!?!? If I were even remotely touched by this story, I would not be moved to help someone who can't bother to work because he might become healthy.

Alimou Ready to go home

Scurried around tonight to get a photo of Alimou with some of us who went to the Guinea screening. We thought he was going to fly home to Conakry tomorrow, but in the end we decided he would probably be better off sticking around here a little longer and getting stronger. Although flying will be easier than an overland tour, it will still take the better part of the day on a multi-stop World Food Program flight.

Alimou looks terrific. His head is wrapped with a compression garment in the photo. When someone has a tumor as large as he did, it takes a while for the skin to shrink back (like a woman's belly after having a baby). In September when he returns for a bone graft, Dr Gary will also trim a bit of the excess. Do that too soon, however, and he could end up with too little skin.

Rediscovering Amazement

Thursday evening I passed by some guests who are on board for a little less than two weeks. One woman was excitedly telling the others about her 'Adopt-a-Patient' experience. She was delighted with the opportunity to befriend and pray for a patient who was scheduled for surgery the Friday. That reminded me again of the delight a friend experienced as she joined us on screening trips around Guinea. She kept exclaiming, "Isn't it a-MAY-zing?"

In my 11 years with Mercy Ships I've participated in 20-30 screenings, everything from the major beginning of a field service events to driving around remote, barren prefectures in search of the elusive person with a cleft lip. I've seen people with huge tumors and damaged faces, so I suppose I've become immune to some of it. Traveling with Ann opened my eyes again to tune into to the Amazing...not what Mercy Ships does, though that is amazing...but more importantly what God is doing. Join me in a journey of rediscovering amazement as I traveled around Liberia and Guinea in April and May.

Three of us arrived in the sleepy, southeastern fishing village of Greenville. When we arrived at the hospital, there were three people waiting for us. I admit, I was disappointed...all this way for three people? Then I saw the man sitting at the end of the bench. When he turned his face toward me, I saw he had no nose. Ah, I thought, it was worth it for him. Isn't it Amazing that God sends 3 people on an UNMIL flight so he can get a new nose? And Isn't it Amazing that the day we left, a young boy with Burkitt's lymphoma came...a cancer that can be treated in Liberia and once again, UNMIL was able to provide transportation for James and his dad to fly to Monrovia for treatment?

When we headed to Greenville, I knew that helicopter travel was a possibility. I've flown on helicopters several times, but I have never wanted to! As I packed for the trip, I had a general sense of unease about the whole thing, so much so that I even wrote out an updated will the night before. I didn't tell anyone, just left it behind. When we headed to Greenville, we traveled on a small plane. The entire stay in Greenville, Dr Chris and Ann dreamed of flying home on a helicopter. Isn't it Amazing how God gives people the desires of their heart? Although I was dreading a helicopter ride, Dr Chris and Ann visibly bounced across the tarmac with a sense of anticipation.

As I looked back at pictures I took on the helicopter flight as well as during our trip to Guinea, I can't help but think, Isn't it Amazing how God creates beauty in so many different ways, from the lowland, mangrove swamps of Liberia to the mountaintops of the forest region in Guinea?
Isn't it Amazing that God could use a war to send a missionary from Liberia to Guinea? Isn't it Amazing that God could use one man with a vision and a passion to bring more people to Mercy Ships for surgery than our trips to Ganta, Greenville, and Buchanan combined?

While we were in Guinea we met a doctor who is an orthopedic surgeon who later inquired about the possibility of serving with us for a while this summer. He and his wife decided to pursue other options. Then on Friday morning at 1 (yes, 1am my time!), I received a call from someone in Texas who wanted me to know that one of the orthopedic surgeons scheduled to come in a week had to withdraw because of a blood clot in his leg. Could we check with the orthopedic surgeon in Guinea to see if he would be able/willing to fill in for those two weeks? Isn't it Amazing that God introduced us to an orthopedic surgeon a few weeks before we needed one? Something that could have sent us scurrying was resolved within hours, as the orthopedic surgeon Dr Bob and his wife accepted our invitation only 7 hours after it was offered. Isn't it Amazing?

That's just a taste of it, but I'm trying to keep my eyes and ears tuned into the Amazing.

Perils of a Name like Jean

There are certain positions on the Africa Mercy that invite invitations to special events and I happen to occupy one of them as the HealthCare Manager. So I can't say I was surprised when someone handed me an invitation to an upcoming service in June. I WAS surprised, however, to read why I had been invited. Turns out the inviting church was having a Father's day celebration and I had been offered the award of "Honored Father." I confess this is not an award I would have ever considered myself eligible for nor even aspired to, but when one is in a country that neighbors a French-speaking country, it only makes sense that they might think my name, Jean, is the French version of John. The feminine version of my name would be spelled Jeanne in French.

I turned down the invitation; I don't think it would have been proper to show up on Father's Day to collect my special award. Besides, what they really want is my money and I'm not very keen on these blatant requests for my attendance simply so I will give them funds for whatever their current project is. I was so surprised by the "Honored Father" bit that I forgot to read that part before I returned it to the person who delivered it! Guess I'll never know.