One year ago today...

One year ago today I embarked on this white floating home of mine!

This time last year I had just finished the field service portion of the gateway program, and headed to the ship along with 11 other new crew.

One year later I am finding my way around much better- all those hallways that looked exactly the same now feel like part of home. Although, yesterday I still did try to "push" on the "pull" doorways heading inside from the gangway. There always seems to be someone waiting behind me when I do that, too. :-)

Following the Lord is an adventure I wouldn't miss out on, no matter where in the world it leads me, and I am thankful that for this season of life He has led me here!

This verse is the one I put on my support letters, sent March 2012, and it has been a theme of the last months. God has done more for me than I ever asked or imagined- I have been stretched and challenged, heartbroken, and also abundantly blessed and forever changed.

And just like this verse says, it is my prayer that God would get the glory for any good thing that comes of my service here. All the real healing and lasting change- it's all because of His love.

 

Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

Ephesians 3:20-21

Patient Story: Emmanoel

Elodie refuses to sleep. She wants to be up in case her son wakes. Tonight, her hair is pushed back, and she keeps one hand on her son’s leg at all times. She has to be exhausted; yet, she is acutely alert. What is it about mothers that “kicks in” on long nights like these?

If not for his surgery this morning, Elodie’s son, Emmanoel, would have died by suffocation before his third birthday. A tumor in his mouth cut off his airway to the point that he was passing out three times a day. Emmanoel’s shallow and labored breathing sounded like a perpetual asthma attack. Every breath he took made those around him feel restless and eager to do something – find an inhaler, an EpiPen, an ambulance . . . anything.

In the last year and a half, Elodie and her husband, Maurice, had tried everything. At first, doctors told them that their infant son had “just malaria.” But, as Emmanoel grew, his breathing worsened. In early 2013, they took him to Kinshasa, the capital of neighboring Democratic Republic of Congo. It was there that doctors identified the culprit – a tumor growing from Emmanoel’s palate was slowly suffocating him. He needed an operation, they said, but it was not a surgery that they would do.

With each day after their return home, Emmanoel’s intermittent breathing worsened, and he began losing consciousness. His blackouts became so regular that Elodie no longer rushed him to the hospital. Maurice also stopped sleeping at night because he was afraid Emmanoel would suffocate before the dawn.

Maurice and Elodie were out of options and resources, and their son was almost out of time. Now losing consciousness three times a day, they feared that, eventually, he would pass out and not wake up again.

Soon Maurice was no longer the only one up each night – Emmanoel could not sleep either. His body would wake him up, gasping for air. The result was a sleep-deprived, short-of-breath toddler sitting in his weary father’s lap.

Between sleepless nights at home, Maurice worked in Pointe Noire’s shipping port. On a hazy Friday in early August, he saw an unusual ship pull in – it was rumored to have a hospital onboard.

Maurice, Elodie, and Emmanoel were brought to the front of the line on Selection Day in Pointe Noire, Congo, after Emmanoel passed out and required assistance from the Mercy Ships Emergency Medical Team on-site.

 

For the next three weeks, Maurice and Elodie counted down each day until Mercy Ships doctors would begin seeing patients. That day came on Wednesday, August 28th, when Emmanoel and his parents waited in a line of more than 7,300 people to be seen by Mercy Ships. Before Emmanoel reached the front of the line, he had already passed out at least once and required the attention of the Mercy Ships Emergency Medical Team.

Emmanoel was scheduled for surgery onboard the Africa Mercy, and, within a few days, he became one of Mercy Ships’ first patients in Congo. “I don’t know how he survived this long; I really don’t,” Dr. Mark Shrime, Emmanoel’s surgeon, said during the operation.

Dr. Mark Shrime (USA), Dr. Gary Parker (USA), and Dr. David Levy (USA) during Emmanoel’s operation. “I don’t know how he survived this long; I really don’t.” Dr. Shrime said during the operation on September 4th.

 

In his adult-size hospital bed, two-year-old Emmanoel looks even smaller than usual tonight. He’s hooked up to lots of beeping machines. Elodie sits at his bedside like a determined watchdog. Maurice has gone home for the night to care for Emmanoel’s older brother and sister. During rounds this evening, Mercy Ships surgeons and nurses huddled over Emmanoel’s bed. “See all of these nurses?” a crewmember asked Elodie. “He is in very good hands. You should try to get some sleep.”

Elodie nodded in the direction of the comment but kept her focus on Emmanoel. The translator laughed, “No, I don’t think she will do that,” he said in English. But there was no need to translate Elodie’s disinterest in sleep. The tenacity of parents with sick children is the same in every language.


 

The night after Emmanoel’s surgery, Dr. Mark Shrime (USA) checks on Emmanoel with Dr. Michelle White (GBR) and nurse Deb Louden (AUS).

Dr. Mark Shrime (USA) checks Emmanoel’s palate post-operation.

Elodie, Emmanoel’s mother, watches vigilantly at his bedside.

 

Emmanoel has never been able to speak. When he had the tumor in his mouth, he could only make certain noises. He called Elodie “ch-ch-ch.”

“I can’t wait to hear my son say my name,” Elodie says. Perhaps the hope she has for the future is the source of her “motherhood adrenaline” tonight . . .

That night was the last sleepless night for Elodie. Today, she is well-rested and energized by the sound of her child’s voice. In three weeks’ time, Emmanoel has become a different child, smiling on the dock in the arms of his doting parents. With each day, Emmanoel continues to heal and grow and breathe. He has learned to say three words in French, starting with mother and uncle. He isn’t able to say father yet, but Elodie insists that Maurice doesn’t mind. Instead, Maurice is happiest to hear Emmanoel say the word demain, which means tomorrow.

Tonight, as the sun sets over Congo, Maurice and Elodie will sleep soundly once again . . . because their child will live to see tomorrow.

 

Elodie and Emmanoel, just two weeks after Emmanoel had an operation to remove a tumor from his mouth.

Maurice and Emmanoel after surgery. Emmanoel can now say three words in French – mother, uncle, and tomorrow. Maurice is still working on teaching him to say father, but he doesn’t mind the wait. He is just happy that Emmanoel can breathe again.

Emmanoel will celebrate his third birthday in February 2014 thanks to a life-saving operation that removed a suffocating tumor from his mouth.

Mercy Ships volunteer crew member Dr. Michelle White (GBR) was the anesthesiologist during Emmanoel’s surgery

Emmanoel heads home with his mom in Pointe Noire, Congo.

Story by Catherine Murphy

Edited by Nancy Predaina

Photos by Josh Callow, Ryan Cardoza, Catherine Murphy, and Michelle Murrey

Side note from Suzanne: I remember this little guy from screening day. I remember taking his pre-op photos. His father brought him to the photo station. He was sitting on the bench waiting their turn for the pictures, breaking off tiny bits of the apple we had provided with the lunches. It took so much effort for Emmanoel to choke down those tiny pieces. They both looked exhausted, the photo station was their last stop before heading home and I worked quickly to get them on their way. I checked his yellow card to see when his surgery date was, and was relieved when it was in less than a week from the screening day. Emmanoel was down on D ward, I work on B but I stopped in to see how he was doing after surgery- what a blessing to see the transformation in this little one. I'm so thankful that God orchestrated little Emmanoel getting the help he needed at the right time!

 

meet the neighbors

Today I'd like to introduce you to a few of our neighbors.....

 

If I think about it for a few minutes, I remember how odd it really is to live in an industrial shipyard. I mean, think of it from the perspective of the port workers- they spend their days doing port worker things...like driving fork lifts and big trucks and recieveing containers and shipments of things. And then one day they hear that a ship is coming and the government is letting them use a prime berth space for a whole 10 month period at no charge. And not only that, there are 400 men, women and children living on board and it's a hospital.

In West Africa, we are pretty well known. We've visited those countries repeatedly over the last 35 or so years, and so the white hospital ship is a welcome sight. But this is our first visit to central Africa, and people are still getting to know us. We are still earning trust and proving that we are really going to do what we promised. So we show up here, park a small village at the end of this shipyard, and then go back and forth with our land rovers all day long bringing patients on board. Anyway, I just think it's probably a bit weird for the people who work here- now when they come to work they might see our daily car full of a dozen blind people headed towards our ship. They have been very welcoming; the port has to work hard to host us, and we are thankful for their partnership.

 

 

The Africa Mercy is right where that blue dot is, the end of the peninsula shaped bit is the port, and we are on the inside part of the dock closer to the shoreline.

Port Autonome de Pointe Noire is where my floating home is parked here in Congo, and we have an ever-changing backyard. But, as it was in Guinea last year, some of the ships return frequently and there is an array of fishing boats and tug boats that live here permanently. And a few half sunken boats that live here very permanently. (Photo credit for this next photo goes to Josh) In this photo there are lots of fishing boats, they are docked right near our ship. When they come in with a catch it smells, umm...very fishy. Last year I had a favorite fishing boat in the Guinea port, it was really colorful and looked like a life-size version of a bathtub toy. I'll have to choose a new favorite for this year.

 

 

Borrowed this next photo from Emma- skip it if you are squeamish....but here's a reason for the fishy smell...

 

 

Deck 7 is one of my favorite places on the ship. The port side of the ship is not actually the side with the dock and the gangway. Starboard side is to the dock, and port side is towards the water. How's that for confusing.

This is deck 7 port side, looking towards the shoreline.

 

 

There's this handy website called marinetraffic.com where you can see live satellite information on ships coming and going around the world. I took some screen shots of our neighbors.

Here we are- (we are the blue dot with the black box around it)

 

 

Here's our nearest neighbor (for today anyway), Safmarine Sahara, docked directly behind us.

 

 

The blue ship on the left is here in port frequently, Niledutch Cheetah. The names are great. I told my cabinmates I was writing this post, and Amy mentioned that one of the ships that visited often in Guinea was the "Celine Dion".

 

 

 

And a couple more...

 

Here's the other side of deck 7, nearer the dock. There is a nice green floor mat for the kids to play on, and a net to keep balls from going overboard.

 

 

Looking down to the dock...Monday evenings are running club for the ship kids

 

 

Same view from deck 8- in this one you can see the gangway, the rehab tent and the fleet of land rovers.

 

 

Deck 8:

 

And the view of the sunset, from deck 8 you can see across the port out to the sea.

 

 

Plastics friends

Plastic surgeries are wrapping up- and next week B Ward completely changes and becomes the orthopaedic ward.

 

What a journey the last 7 weeks have been! I wish I could introduce you to each of the people who have captured my heart during their stay here. So many stories- some patients stay for weeks at a time. They come here for surgery, but also become our friends.

 

Like this girlie and her sweet momma:

And this spunky teenager....she's off the ship at the hope center now and doing very well.

These two are also at the hope center now...

And then there's this kiddo- oh my did he steal my heart...

After a bad case of childhood measles he became deaf, and the severity of the illness left him vulnerable to noma. The noma ate away at his nose, but we were able to provide a plastic surgery for him. He amazes me in the way he is able to communicate without words. Also he loves playing the game "memory" where you turn cards over and match the pictures. He beats me evey single time.

He lives with his grandparents, I met both of them during his stay on board. His grandfather speaks English and told me "I waited in line with my grandson on the selection day. We waited so long, and then finally we saw the doctor. We were sitting with three other people, and the doctor said yes to my grandson and one of the others. On the yellow card was the date we should come to the ship. Every morning after that my grandson would come to me and point to his nose and ask if it is time to go to the hospital."

The day finally came, and the surgery went great!

Here he is with the first step of his reconstruction, a scalp flap that goes from above his ear to his nose. Once blood flow is established at the nose, then the flap is replaced and the reconstruction can be completed:

After about 3 weeks, it was time for the second step of the operation. All the other patients were eager to see his new nose too. I stopped by the ward to see him, and there was a whole group of other patients and caregivers gathered around him while he was still sleeping off his meds, all marveling at his finished new nose. He's at the hope center now as well.

 

And here are these two brothers, the older brother stays as the caregiver. Both of them have been practicing their English while on the ward, and they are getting really good. One day I gave a lesson in the use of the stethoscope and they insisted on photos so they could remember their day being the "doctor". When I handed each of them an alcohol swab to clean the earpieces before putting them in, they both laughed at me and said something about "white people". I asked the translator what they were talking about and he smiled and said "oh, well we have a saying that goes 'white is white'. They are laughing because you are so worried about making things very clean." I laughed and explained that sure, maybe "white is white", but a "hospital is a hospital". Use the alcohol swab. :)

Here's little Aicha and her Papa who absolutely adores her. I remember doing her pre-op photos on screening day- her burn scars covered her tourso and contracted both her arms and her hip, keeping her from standing up all the way. She's come such a long way from the tiny frightened-of-all-nurses 4 year old she was a month ago. She's a special little girl.

I'm going to miss these people!

 

Starting next week: time to make some Ortho friends!

Kids like these we met on screening day will be coming back for their surgeries:

 

Meet Vernel

This cute kiddo was recently with us for cleft lip and palate surgery, and I wanted to share some photos of his time here-

Before:

 

 

And after!

 

Whenever I discharge one of our patients, I wonder what will happen when they go back home. I wish I could watch each one of them greet their family and friends, and see the reactions to their finished operation! Every once in awhile, a group heads off in a mercy ships land rover to do just that, and in Vernel's case the communications team followed him home to finish recording his story:

 

From the Mercy Ships Facebook Page:

Vernel returned home last week after having surgery to repair his cleft lip on the Africa Mercy. Upon seeing his nephew, Mestramaille picked up Vernel and danced around laughing with joy. “Oh Vernel, Vernel, you became handsome! It makes me happy, I did not think he could be like this. Yes, thanks Mercy Ships, thank you for your work.” Thanks to each and every one of YOU who supports Mercy Ships to make joyful homecomings like this possible.

Vernel and his uncle: