Monday, May 21, 2012

Dancing with Other Stars on a World Stage


John and I arrived home in the US last night, to spend a night in Boston with Aaron and Rachel.  One of Rachel’s first questions to me:   ‘Were you working with women who had experienced obstetric fistulas? I read a Mother’s Day article in the NY Times last Sunday about that.’ 



Yes!  I did, and because she had read the article, Rachel was familiar with the work I did on Africa Mercy.

I have worked with Dr. Arrowsmith in Liberia, and now one of his esteemed colleagues, Dr. Lauri Romanzi in Togo.  The nurse who was the team-leader in our Africa Mercy VVF surgery outreach has worked at the hospital in Niger.  There’s much work still to be done to correct and prevent this horrible problem hurting so many women in sub-Saharan Africa, but I’m thankful to have been a little part of the solution and to myself have seen and worked with former VVF patients who are in the 'paying-it-forward' mode.

 

I am so grateful Rachel kept the article.  It is copyrighted, and I hereby give credit where credit is due.



Nicholas D Kristof, Saving The Lives of Moms The New York Times, Sunday, May 13, 2012.

This is a Mother’s Day tribute to a mighty woman and to the doctor who gave her back her life – and also a celebration of a grand new woman’s hospital that you as readers helped to build. 



The woman is Mahabouba Mohammed, an Ethiopian who was raped at about age 13.  She gave birth alone:  after many days of labor, the baby was stillborn and she suffered an obstetric fistula. 



A fistula is just about the worst fate that can happen to a woman or girl.  It’s a childbirth injury that causes her to leak urine or feces continuously through her vagina.  In Mahabouba’s case, she also suffered nerve damage in both legs so that she couldn’t walk. 



More than two million women and girls have fistulas worldwide.  They are the lepers of the 21st century, among the most voiceless and shunned people on earth.  Fistulas were once also common in America (a fistula hospital was once located in Manhattan where the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel is now,) but today they normally afflict only people in poor countries of Africa and Asia. 



Mahabouba smelled foul, and villagers thought she had been curse by God.  They put her in a hut at the edge of the village and took off the door – so the hyenas would get her that night. 



When the hyenas came, Mahabouba used a stick to fend them off.  The next morning she set off crawling to get to an American missionary who lived more than 30 miles away.  The missionary took her to the Addis Ababa Fistula Hospital where she met Steven Arrowsmith, and American urologist from Grand Rapids, MI.



Arrowsmith, now 54, has devoted his life to helping women and girls with fistulas, and he has almost certainly repaired more fistuals than any other American doctor.  But Mahabouba’s case was unusually complicated – much of her tissue had rotted away – and she was in a deep depression. 


“It was painful to be within three feet of her, because she was so miserable,” Arrowsmith recalled.  She was also illiterate and did not understand the main Ethiopian language or the ways of cities.



He laughs now as he recalls the time his wife, Jan, a family physician, took Mahabouba to a prosthesis shop to get a leg brace so she could try walking again.  Everybody else in the storehad lost a leg or two from land mines, and Mahabouba grew panicky.  Fearing that she was about to hae her legs sawed off, she tried to flee.



In the end Arrowsmith performed a $450 surgery on Mahabouba to repair her fistula.  While she recovered she began to help out in the ward.  Smart and capable, she was given more responsibilities, and by the time I met her in 2003, she was on the hospital’s nursing staff.  She’s a wonderful example of how such women can be turned from squandered assets into productive resources. 



Mahabouba has become very close to the Arrowsmiths, calling them Mommy and Daddy.  When she won an apartment in a lottery in the Ethiopian capital, she was thrilled because, as she told the Arrowsmiths, “Now that I have a place, I can take care of you when you’re old.”



Then there was the Liberian woman who, after her fistula was repaired, named a grandchild “Doctor Steve.”  In Niger, the women have affectionately named Dr. Arrowsmith “Chief of Urine” – and all this makes him think that has the world’s best job.



“People in America can’t believe I left urology to do this, but this is about changing live” which is better than “listening to men tell me about the quality of their erections,” he said.  “I’ve had my family held at gunpoint, I’ve had malaria, I’ve had a serious exposure to HIV, I’ve been separated from family, and I’ve spent about a million hours crammed into coach class on airlines, but it’s worth it.  I’d much rather live a meaningful life than a comfortable one.”



Left untreated, women and girls with fistulas become pariahs.  Their husbands divorce them, and they are moved to a hut at the edge of the village.  They lie there in pools of their waste, feeling deeply ashamed, trying to avoid food and water because of the shame of incontinence, and eventually they die of an infection or simple starvation.



But there’s renewed hope for these women.  The Fistula Foundation has been underwriting corrective surgery in many countries, and the United States Agency for International Development is helping as well.  Representative Rosa DeLauro, a Connecticut Democrat says she will introduce a bill on Tuesday that would create a program to eradicate fistulas worldwide. 



For years, Dr. Arrowsmith has been dreaming – along with Dr. Lewis Wall, a fistula expert at Washington University School of Medicine in St. Louis – of establishing a fistula hospital in West Africa.  After I wrote about their organization, The Worldwide Fistula Fund, a couple of years, ago, Times readers responded with an outpouring of support – some $500,000. 



This is what your contributions achieved:  The hospital recently opened in Danja, Niger.  More than 60 women with fistulas were waiting at the ribbon-cutting, and a surgeon from the nearby country of Burkina Faso is working through the backlog. 



The hospital has also started an outreach program to provide prenatal care, family planning and other help for maternal and child health.  The aim is to save lives as well as prevent fistulas.



Now Dr. Arrowsmith and Dr. Wall are trying to raise $500,000 in annual operating costs so that the hospital can perform up to 1,000 fistula repairs a year.



“It’s a very small amount of money for the difference it can make in somebody’ s life,”  Dr. wall said.  “the problem is that an amount like that, less than the cost of an iPad in the States, is too much for the average Africa who suffers the problem.”



This Mother’s Day, we’ll spend $18 billion on Flowers, dinners and spa treatments – all of which is merited.  But it is also an occasion to celebrate much more modest gifts that have created a hospital with transformational power.



You see the power of such a gift when you watch Mahabouba attend to frightened ashamed teenage girls with fistulas.  And Mahabouba will soon spread her wings further:  the new fistula hospital plans to bring her to Niger so that she can help train the nursing staff, paying forward the gift that she received.

Monday, May 7, 2012

Watching My Daughter Dance - Act Three

The third photo is a very recent one with members of Africa Mercy’s Advance Team Guinea.  The ship will be moving to Guinea later this summer to begin surgeries in September 2012 through Summer 2013.  All the logistics to commence this outreach begin far ahead of time and Laura is the Hospital Liaison Officer for this endeavor.  Three of the Advance Team members left Togo in Mid-April.  Laura joined them last week.  When I flip through the photo file in my mind, I see a young second grader wrapping herself up in my skirts, very shy and lacking confidence.  She has unfolded into a beautiful, confident, gracious woman.  God is calling her now to serve Him in the presence of officials, authorities, and heads of state.  He has given her the gifts, talents, tools, and skills to carry out the mission He has purposed for her and the rest of the team to accomplish.  As parents, we take great joy in seeing what she is about!  “And we are confident of this, that He who began a good work in [her] will carry it on to completion.” Philippians 1:6
John Fischer wrote a song for his newborn son some 30 years ago.   The lyrics seem to fit well with a few changes of name, for our dear Laura, dancing her own song in this mother’s dance in the middle.

Laura knows her own little toes
She just found them today
Stuck in the air at the end of her chair
Ten little toes just waiting to play
It's hard to believe that these little feet
Will walk into the next generation
May they be feet that bring the gospel of peace
To every situation
Sometimes I shrink at the hopeless world
My helpless child must grow in
That's when I pray as I'm watching her play
That she might carry Christ in her.



Watching My Daughter Dance - Act Two


From early on, Laura has had a very loving and compassionate heart for others.  I could select from photos too numerous to count from my memory bank of experiences but her selection is best.  This one was on the wall in her cabin as well.  She used this photo in the life story she had to tell as a senior nursing student about to complete her nursing education, and referred back to it as a moment when she began to recognize what God’s calling was for her life.  Her grandma, my mom, was suffering from terminal cancer.  Our family made several visits back to South Dakota, from Kansas, while mom was going through radiation and chemotherapy treatments.  Laura, a 3 year old at the time, reaches out with a compassionate and loving touch to express her care and comfort for Grandma.  Tiny seeds being sown for a harvest ahead.  Colossians 3:12 “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”


Watching My Daughter Dance - Act One




Recently, one of my friends challenged her Facebook friends to use three photos to tell a life story. Her story was full of heartache and God’s healing from a tremendous loss and the bright hope she has for the future.  I have not suffered anything that would even come close to her anguish, but loved the challenge, and immediately had my mind’s wheels turning to think of which story I would tell, and thought once again how ALL of our stories are His-story at work in our lives and the triumphs tell us as much about Him as the tragedies.

The challenge to me is even further daunting, as here I am in Africa, away from all my life-long collection of ‘Kodak moments.’  (oh there are a few very recent photos on this computer that has been in my ownership for less than five months, but that doesn’t provide much to work with for the previous 55 plus years.) Then, one day, the story I want to tell came crystal clear in my mind.  The nursing group I was working with was discussing anemia and blood transfusions in our patients and our ship’s blood bank supply, and as is typical of women, our minds being spaghetti – where every thought immediately connects to another thought in a way that causes men to just scratch their heads trying to figure the connection – next thing I knew, the story of Laura’s day of birth, and the post-partum hemorrhage that I suffered, that caused a physician to come to John saying ‘women still die in 1982 from post-partum hemorrhages’ was spilling from my mouth. 



And then I knew it.  Three photos, Laura’s story.  I don’t have a photo of her day of birth but I have one of her as a very young little toddler with her daddy.  She had it on the wall in her cabin.  From before her birth, God has had a plan for our ‘little girl.’  Jeremiah writes in 1:5 “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.”  If God knew Jeremiah and had a plan for him to be a prophet before he was even formed in the womb, He also has a plan specifically for Laura (as well as each of us.) I recall thinking just prior to being put under the anesthesiologist’s medications for surgery after Laura’s birth while I was bleeding away, ‘Lord, take care of that daddy and his two babies if I am not around, but I would surely like to be their mommy for a long time.’  I’m writing this story today, as a certain affirmative answer from God for my prayer!








Saturday, April 28, 2012

Light Show on the Dance Floor


I cannot help but be humbled and in awe at the same time.  I have met some of the most courageous women that I believe walk this earth.  Today, as they celebrated a new lease on life they have been granted because of the healing they have received from God while aboard the Africa Mercy, I heard more of their stories.  I recognize my own jadedness.  I have worked in hospitals in the developed world and faced my own angst when I see people utilizing our limited healthcare dollars in such frivolous ways, showing up in the ER because 20 minutes ago, they vomited,  . . . . one time, . . . and they want us to fix it NOW!  (And then they expect me to pay for it with my tax dollars as well.) 

For the past few weeks I have been caring for women who have suffered from shame and rejection, because no one wants to be around a person who stinks like old urine, and is wet because they constantly leak it, and perhaps even other bodily wastes.  Today, they told how they have suffered, not for the past 20 minutes, or 20 hours, 20 days, 20 weeks or even 20 months for that matter.  Some have  suffered for more than 20 years, one even more than 30.  One of the women told how she was hidden away in a room in her parent’s home for 14 years.  No one would have anything to do with her.  Imagine that.  I cannot.  I can only sense the incredible despair I would feel being totally cut off.  Despair for life itself.  I am awed that God would use me to bring them a glimmer, followed by a full-scale-light-show of HOPE! 

Because of what has happened to these women, through the ministering hands of Mercy Ship volunteers and a Healing God, they can celebrate a new beginning and praise.  What a happy day!

 Isaiah 43

18“Forget the former things;

   do not dwell on the past.

19 See, I am doing a new thing!

   Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the desert

   and streams in the wasteland.

20 The wild animals honor me,

   the jackals and the owls,

because I provide water in the desert

   and streams in the wasteland,

to give drink to my people, my chosen,

 21 the people I formed for myself


   that they may proclaim my praise."

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

God Places the Lonely in Families



“Pop-pa, Pop-pa,” the two little braided-and-beaded-haired girls squealed in delight, as they clung to his neck and in unison would begin
to count, “un, deux, trois,” before he once again disappeared with them under
the water, making a game of the bobbing up and down. The
petite daughters would swim to the edge and call out, “Momma, Momma,” to the admiring
lady sitting under the shade of the cabana at the pool’s edge. It appears to be a picture perfect family,
enjoying a holiday afternoon at the Hotel du Lac, on the edge of Lake
Togo. And an illustration of the universal
longing in each of us, no matter what continent we are on, or in which culture
we live, to be part of family, to experience the love and adoration of those
around us, perhaps even unknowingly, the love and adoration of Someone bigger
than us.

These weeks here on Africa
Mercy give John and I the opportunity to be reconnected with our daughter
for a brief time, and enjoy the unique bond we have with her, bonds that make
us family. It is also a time for me to
reflect on something greater, and recognize in the reflection, how immense the
gift is I have been given in the human family I am blessed to be a part
of. As I observe and ponder, several
factors have caused me to want to express gratitude and not take for granted what
I have been given.

As John and I have been introduced around ship, many have
been surprised that we would come to work here alongside Laura, and we get the
wide-eyed ‘wows.’ They indicate in their
comments, their appreciation for Laura and all she means to them, and their
simultaneous appreciation to us, especially if they are from African nations. Laura has shared with us at later times,
comments some have made privately to her, once we are away. Some have indicated a jealousy. They come from developed nations, and their
parents, with a different focus in their lives, would never consider making
such a trip. They can tell just from our brief interactions or their knowledge
of previous stories Laura has told of her family of origin, that we have something
they have never experienced; a parent-child relationship that is truly rare in
this day, mutual love and respect and understanding and attachment. They did not grow up with that as part of
their experience with their own parents.
They have revealed to Laura their desire for something so precious.

Others, from lesser developed nations, have an envy stemming
from different reasons. The disease and
violence that are part of the fabric of these nation’s experiences have
shortened the lives of parents, and they have been left orphans. Togo’s 2010 estimated life expectancy was 59
years for males and 57 for females. That
is 15 years greater than for inhabitants of Liberia, and 5 years greater than
residents of Sierra Leone. Only Ghana,
in the West African nations I researched, has a greater life expectancy. At these rates, John and I would by now be
living far beyond the averages.

In a day or two, I am going to begin caring for patients
who have often been rejected by their families because of the injuries they
have suffered during obstructed childbirth experiences or in other violent
means, and as a result have a continuous leaking of bodily wastes. They will have surgeries to repair the
damaged tissue, and hope of a new start in life, with perhaps a reconnection
with their families. In the meantime, here,
they get to experience, perhaps for the first time in years, what God intended
human relationships to be like, where we as nurses and crew, part of His family,
clothe ourselves with His compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and
patience, and connect as Jesus did, with the ‘untouchables,’ the ‘outcasts,’
and the ‘unclean,’ bringing hope and healing in His name.

I’m praising God today for my family, and asking
Him that I can be His family to those who are hurting around me, no matter the
reason for their circumstance.
Psalm 68:4-6
“Sing praises to God and to his name! Sing loud praises to him who rides the
clouds. His name is the Lord—rejoice in his presence! Father to the fatherless, defender of widows—
this is God, whose dwelling is holy. God
places the lonely in families; he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy.”

Friday, April 6, 2012

Another Case of Mistaken Identity



While seated at dinner last evening with Laura and John, I asked Laura to confirm a rumor that I had heard indicating the VVF surgeon had already arrived aboard ship. If it was true, I would love to meet her. (I thought this was a bit unusual,though, as today, Friday, April 06, 2012, begins one of the four day weekend holidays Africa Mercy takes every couple months to give the crew some valuable time to refresh and renew, and in this case reflect upon and celebrate the significance of Good Friday and Easter Sunday.) VVF surgery patients will arrive for final screening on Monday, and surgeries will begin on Tuesday morning. Physicians, and surgeons in particular, being who they are, rarely take the time to just chill for a weekend, especially a holiday, in a strange setting. Africa Mercy’s surgeons are no different, they jet here from wherever in the world they practice, do as many surgeries as they can in the amount of time they are here, and zoom away again.

Laura told me, “No, the surgeon is not here yet, she changed her flight and will arrive on Sunday evening, but I did have an interesting conversation with Chris today in laundry. She told me that the surgeon is already here, and she came with her husband this time. She saw her on Tuesday afternoon, in the ships laundry.”

"Oh, dear," I thought. "My reputation from Liberia has proceeded me." Chris was one of the lovely women I cared for on Africa Mercy 2008 Liberia. She was so dear, with such a
wonderful story of God’s work of bringing beauty from ashes. And since October 2008, she has been a crew member on Africa Mercy. We did see each other on Tuesday afternoon as John and I and other new arrivals were taking the mandatory ship’s tour. Chris was in the laundry when we stopped by on the tour, and we embraced one another with tears streaming from both our faces, and held one another in an extended hug and she told me how she is now totally
‘well.’ I also introduced her to my husband, John.

John and Laura and I laughed as once again, I have come to Africa, and upped my credentials, and this time my reputation has extended beyond Liberia to further portions of West Africa. : )
I refer the reader to a previous post on this blog: Making Liberian Headlines, Thursday, October
2, 2008. It seems more than one patient thought I was the surgeon who had brought them ‘wellness’ and a new beginning. I'm just grateful to be human hands, extending the love of the Great Physician, and I will provide caring and compassion in the role of the nurse, no matter what the patients think.