COLES CHRONICLES: A Precious Gift

Friday, November 17, 2006

A Precious Gift

Yesterday I had the privilege of being able to give a life saving gift of blood to one of our patients during a complicated maxillo-facial suregery. She was an 18 year girl, who is now doing well. I will go and meet her today and hope to have a photo to add to the blog later on. Where else would you get to meet the person you donated blood to and see them doing well. It creates a special bond and is wonderful to know you helped save a life.

1 comment:

Pat Barrett said...: Brenda,
You look great and so content. Miss you and enjoy all of your pictures. Emma's haircut makes her look older.
Miss you lots!; 5:06 AM

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DOUBLE VISION

MONROVIA, LIBERIA
Two-year-old twins, Assan and Alusan, had never seen their mother’s smile. Born with cataracts in both eyes, the boys could detect light and dark but little else.
A neighbour in the Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camp where the family has lived since leaving Sierra Leone in 1999 told Ellen about a Mercy Ship docked at the nearby port. The boys’ mother, Ellen, brought the twins to the hospital ship on April 15th where they were examined and scheduled for surgery the following week.
On April 20th, Ellen left her two older children, 11-year-old Princess and six-year-old Ansu, with her mother and brought the twins to the ship. The next day, Dr. Glenn Strauss removed cataracts from both eyes of each boy. They wore eye patches for 24 hours to stop them scratching their eyes.
When the patches were removed, the obvious improvement delighted Ellen and the ship’s crewmembers alike. Where once their eyes had been sunken and unresponsive, now Assan and Alusan opened their eyes wide and carefully followed the movements of hands and balloons. When they were taken home in a Mercy Ships land rover, family members rushed to scoop them up and hug them. One of the first things the boys did was to play a game of tag with each other.
Assan and Alusan now see the world with new eyes and are learning to smile.

IN SILENT DARKNESS

Sah, age 2, Monrovia, Liberia

An operating table. High-tech instruments all around. In the middle of the table: a baby girl. She is two years old but is so tiny that she could easily be six months. This little girl is deaf, her chart also indicates she has a heart murmur and she is blind. That’s a lot of complications for one little girl. But today, Mercy Ships ophthalmic surgeon Russell Leavitt is removing a cataract from her right eye following similar surgery on her left eye a few days earlier.
The baby girl’s name is Sah, a likely victim of rubella during foetal development.
That was last week. Today, comfortably perched on her mother’s lap, Sah is surrounded by a cluster of intrigued family and friends. Rushing into the small dimly lit hut from the surrounding fields and farms, villagers are arriving in their droves. Fresh red Liberian soil clings to their clothes and feet. Excitement fills the air: Sah is safely home, and the people want to hear the whole story.
FOR THE FIRST TIME, THEIR EYES MET“When I heard the news about a free operation with Mercy Ships I just knew I had to go,” says Sah’s mother, Bendu. “Everyone in the village told me not to go, out of fear of the unknown, but I knew God was in control and I trusted Him. The Mercy Ship is an answer to prayer.”
Bendu smiles when she thinks again about their experience onboard the Mercy Ship. “My daughter had a cataracts removed from her eyes. After each patch was removed she could see. She was blind and is deaf but now she can see objects in front of her. When I gaze into her eyes, there is this knowing look that just says Thank you”.
YOU SHOULD SEE HER GAZINGBendu waves a balloon in front of Sah’s face — she reaches out to grab it. Sah is already making fast progress in the way she moves and interacts with other people. We all know how fast children learn!
Sah may never be able to hear, but Bendu’s excitement over her daughter’s improved vision is evident. This was more than mere surgery at work. Sah’s world has been changed, from a universe of darkness to a world where she is able now to see, play with other children or simply look into her mother’s eyes. Things are indeed looking up.Submitted by Mercyships on Mon, 04/07/2008 - 14:07.
Transformations

KUMBAH FAYIAH: Shame Removed From Me

Monrovia 09 July – “It’s been 14 years!” exclaimsKumba. “But now…now I feel as if I am in heaven. PraiseGod!” Lifting her hands high in the air, Kumba’s face radiateswith joy on Mercy Ships Faith ward as she participates in thenew dress ceremony before she returns home. Arriving onthe ship ten days earlier suffering from a birth injury, the final dress ceremony represents surgical and spiritual healing. Sitting alongside five other women in the very centre of the ward, Kumba smiles as the dress ceremony continues. Each lady to arrive at the ship has suffered with some form of birth injury, now each lady stands to speak about how she’s been healed. Glowing as she praises God, Kumba’s brand new attire
matches her mood. She is transformed body and soul. As a Guinean, Kumba speaks only a few words of English, yet the pain and suffering she has lived through is clearly evident.
Pain is etched in her face and in her voice as her journey overthe last 14 years is translated. “I live in Guinea. I have given birth eight times but only one child has survived. It was on the last time that I got my problem. Every birth has been so difficult and the child has died in labour.” Kumba relays the last 14 years in graphic detail. Because of the birth injury she’sleaked urine every day since; the smell, the embarrassment,the shame. As civil war raged in neighboring Liberia, Kumbaexplains how she and her husband opened their house to Liberian refugees. Years later it was these refugees, since returned home, that informed her that a Mercy Ship had docked in the Liberian capital. “I’ve got nothing to giveyou,” Kumba repeats the words one these refugee saidto her last year, “but I will make sure you get on the shipafter the way you took care of us in Guinea.”
At the same time, Kumba’s brother in law in Liberia contacted her husband, saying “I will do everything in my power to get her to the ship!” Kumba laughs as she re-peats these powerful words that seemed so impossible. “I have always lived in a
village,” she explains, “I have never even been to the capital city in Guinea, to go there it costs plenty money. For you
to go there it costs more than 3,000 Guinea dollars (50cents).”
A three day car trip to Monrovia therefore seemed impossible.
Yet, Kumba’s brother in law stuck by his words and together the family raised the required funds. The first night of the
journey ended with car problems and Kumba was forced tosleep at the Guniea border. The following day, after not beingable to find another ride, she began to walk “I was just esperate to reach the ship!” she explains. After a day of walking, the miraculous happened. A stranger took pity on
Kumba, stopped his car, picked her up and carried her the whole way to Monrovia. Arriving, exhausted at the ship,
Kumba explains how she waited with other ladies at the screening, full of anticipation. Finally hearing that she’dbeen scheduled for surgery, Kumba travelled to her brother-in-laws house, amazed at his incredible kindness towards her.
A week later she returned to the ship for her operation. After 14 years, the long journey was about to end. Following surgery, she recuperates on the ward. Then on her last day, she participates in what’s become a Mercy Ships tradition, thenew dress ceremony. Dressed in a glorious, blue outfit, Kumba is the picture of health and happiness. Her laughter is infectious. Smiling, she jokes with the different nurses. She’s a delight to all around her. “The thing that makes me most happy about being here is to see myself sitting here now, like this. This one alone brings joy to me; to see myself without leaking. “The shame has been removed from me,” clapping and raising her hands in the air she concludes, “I give Praise and Glory to the Lord.”
© 2007 Mercy Ships International
www.mercyships.org
Story: Lu Mizen
Photos: Amanda West

Tears & Grief; Joy & Praise

Monrovia, Liberia 10 September 2007 – As a Mercy Ships vehicle threads its way out of the Port of Monrovia and onto the Liberian capital’s busy streets, Jean Browne, head of the Mercy Ships Palliative (hospice) Care Team, lifts up a prayer to God.
"Lord, please guide us today," Jean begins, "I pray the patient we visit will be so aware of a loving God behind everything we do. May her hope be in you and you alone."
As conversation turns to the day ahead, it’s clear the team will face a very difficult situation. The young patient is suffering from Burkitt’s Lymphoma; an aggressive cancer of the lymphatic system. She is terminally ill.
The goal of the Liberia Palliative Care Project is to demonstrate God’s love to people who face a terminal illness without support or resources. The project also supports the extended family of the terminally ill person.
Back in the Land Rover, Jean and team mate Debbie Joensen discuss their patient, Candy. Originally from the neighboring nation of Ivory Coast, Candy and her father travelled to Liberia after hearing about Mercy Ships. They were desperate for help.
Drugs for chemotherapy were procured by Mercy Ships and administered locally, however it quickly became obvious that the situation is terminal.
At only 10 years old, Candy’s beautiful face is marred by a large white bandage covering her left eye. Bulging out, yet concealed beneath the dressing is a painful, oozing tumor.
"When she first came to the ship, Candy was in tremendous pain, the tumor was constantly oozing," explains Jerry, the Palliative Care Team’s translator, as we arrive at Candy’s abode. "Now with the palliative care, Candy is having treatment to ease the pain. We see her smile and she is far more comfortable."
So far from home, Candy’s father, Kaka is unable to provide for his daughter. They’re dependent on the generosity of others, living in a tiny one-roomed hut with a dirt floor and walls covered in newspaper. The situation is far from ideal, but Candy’s father is providing exceptional care.
Having been extensively trained by Jean, Kaka lovingly changes Candy’s dressings, cleaning the wound. It may be a gruesome task, but Kaka’s love for his daughter is obvious.
Unable to gauge just how long Candy will survive, Jean and Debbie’s aim is to support them over the next months through actions and love. Between tears, smiles and laughter can be seen as comfort is provided amidst the grief.

COLES CHRONICLES

Friday, November 17, 2006

A Precious Gift

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Assan and Alusan

DOUBLE VISION

Baby Sah

IN SILENT DARKNESS

Kumbah Fayiah & other VVF Ladies - going home (pictured with Surgeon Dr. Steve Arrowsmith)

Kumbah Fayiah

KUMBAH FAYIAH: Shame Removed From Me

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Tears & Grief; Joy & Praise

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