I rose at 0600 with a heavy heart, knowing it was my final day in this country that has changed my heart. I love these people, I love their hope, I love their faith in Jesus. They have blessed me so well.
We relieved our night shift at the post-op ward by 0730 and began morning medications and rounds. The surgeons had slowed down the number of operations knowing they'd be losing half of their team today. The other half would remain until Saturday (when a new fresh team of Dr's/RN's would arrive from Austin). Our plan for the patients in the post-op ward was to either transfer them to a different hospital, naval ship, or discharge them home (if they were stable enough) to their families. One of my favorite patients, a 78 year old woman, had suffered a left tibia/fibula fracture. When she'd been admitted on Tuesday, the doctors had recommended she have her leg amputated. She'd refused. They did their best to salvage the leg by placing an external fixation on her leg and dressing her leg with sterile gauze and ace bandages. When they came to re-dress her leg bandage on Thursday, her leg had progressively gotten worse. The open wounds on her left leg were so severe, it broke my heart. I could feel my nose grow pink, because I knew what this meant. The surgeons (through a translator) communicated she needed to have her leg amputated in order to survive at this point. If she refused, she would most likely die of infection from her leg. Despite the facts, she refused. She stated she was okay with dying. She was at peace. My heart so badly wanted to convince her just a little more, to have it amputated. However, I knew it was her decision. From her point of view, I realized she had lived a long life of 78 years and had loving children who never left her side. She did not want to be a burden. Her children (in their 20-30's), came and loaded her in the bed of a truck, and they made their way home. Tears streamed down my face as I waved from the post-op ward doors. She kept repeating, "Bless you, bless you", with a peaceful smile on her face as the truck pulled away.
We moved and transported six patients within a matter of hours to different hospitals (Mercy Ships, Naval Ships, U of Miami Hospital)...so we were busy :) Every time they were loaded in the ambulance I followed them to the car. I could feel tears swell up with each departure. I loved them so much. From Frantz (18 year old medical student with a fractured right tib/fib), to Johanna (16 year old crushed legs), I loved them all. I hated to see them go, but I knew they were in good hands.
Dani was still on the ward, and was in the process of being discharged. She called me over, "Sarena Sarena." I came (with a translator), and tears began rolling down her cheeks as she stated she was scared since she had nowhere to go. She had no idea where her Mother was, and had lost contact with her Father. She begged Lindsey, Jenny, and I to take her to America. What do you say? We just hugged her, and prayed out loud, that God would provide a loving earthly family for His daughter.
Two hours later (still on the ward), as I was discharging more patients, God moved mountains. Who walked through the ward doors, but Dani's Father. Dani saw him and instantly became ecstatic. She screamed "Sarena Sarena! C'est mon pere C'est mon pere! (It's my Dad it's my Dad!)". I instantly dropped what I was doing, ran over, and just hugged him (I think he was a little startled ;) ). She had presumed he was dead, since she hadn't seen him since the earthquake. Can you imagine? To catch wind of where his daughter was, without a cell phone, without a car, and to make his way 30 minutes outside of PauP to see if she was truly at this hospital, was nothing short of a miracle. God answers prayer. So Dani was discharged within the hour, to her sweet Father who fought all of the odds, to find his daughter. What a beautiful reflection of Jesus stopping at nothing to find His children; to go after the one sheep that has been separated from the herd.
What a redeemer.
I’ll find a way to get you here
If it takes my fleeting breath
Another sunrise hits the ground
And it’s a dark lonely sight
Lightyears away I hope you know
There is somebody searching
For the way to get you here
I will get you here
- "Amos Story" by Aaron Ivey
(worship leader at our Church who wrote this song about his son Amos, who was adopted from Haiti)
Then Jesus told them this parable: "Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.'
-Luke 15:3-6
Currently Playing: "I saw what I saw" - Sara Groves
No comments:
Post a Comment