House Calls!

The last few weeks Ro and I have had the joy of hiking up and up the mountains to check on a few of our patients. The bright BLUE of the skies, the splendor of the mountains, and the fresh breeze is a wonderful stress release after a busy clinic morning. Sometimes we just stop to sit in the sun and drink in the beauty. Cheerful greetings call from here and there, and sometimes we stop to chat with a friend. They run to find us chairs and often bring out sweet coconut candy and bread.

  Blind Madam Jill lives way up in a little cleft in the mountains. She has no family...no husband and no children. She sits all alone on the porch of her little stone house with her walking stick beside her. Naughty children ransack her house and steal everything nice she has. Every time we come around the corner in the path I see her face break into a smile as she hears our voices.

 This grandma sits on a bed in her tiny little room and we go to check her blood pressure and edema...reminding her to get up and walk around once in a while and take her meds.

 Madam Pepe cries out in pain night and day. She has diabetes and hypertension and so much pain...likely from diabetic neuropathy.

 It's always sobering to me to see their happiness with such a small gift of our time. As we care for their physical sicknesses, checking BP and blood sugars and pain levels, I pray we might all the more touch their hearts with Jesus' comfort and love...that as we stoop to go out those dingy doorways we might leave their dark little rooms with a ray of cheer and hope.

And what can we do?

     The other week there was a man who came into clinic with severe pain in his stomach, dehydration and some vomiting. We admitted him and observed him, giving him ORS and an IV. His pain moved from his stomach to his chest, to his upper back, and then finally his lower back. It was very curious, because he didn't have a fever, only this pain. We considered taking him out to Ti Goave for some tests, and decided to wait another day and observe him more.

     The next morning he seemed about the same: the pain hadn't changed much, except he was having pain in his chest again. The nurses had been checking him for heart failure, and suddenly his lungs began filling with fluid. The decision was made to immediately take him out to the hospital in town. As we prepared the vehicle, his oxygen readings began to drop; Anita grabbed an oxygen mask and started the flow of air. Thankfully his O2 readings started to return to normal, but he kept trying to take the mask off; he felt like it was suffocating him, not realizing it was the only thing keeping him alive.

     His condition was worsening, so we rushed down to the clinic with Steve's Bobcat. Hooking up the portable oxygen tank, we transferred him into the back of the machine, along with his brother, who would help hold him during the hour and a half trip. Getting everything in place, Steve and I took off down the road.

     What happened on that trip I will never forget; and I expect it will forever be woven into the tapestry of my remembrance...

     We bumped and bounced down the trail, finding that happy-medium between speed (for the urgency of the situation), and caution (for the comfort and wellbeing of our patient). We went through Grandfour, ascended the mountain towards Mólye and stopped briefly to readjust the man's oxygen mask. His breathing was getting worse and he didn't look good at all. We continued on, passing through the market (which was teeming with people, since it was market day) and mounted up the next hill. Before we got much further, our passenger said he needed to readjust his hold on his brother. We stopped and I decided to check the patient's vitals; as we hopped off, the brother began calling his sibling's name, shaking him and trying to get a response. The patient wasn't moving, so I checked his pulse- it was weak, but still present. His unconsciousness was accompanied by sudden, shallow breaths and beads of sweat on his face.

     It is difficult to describe what happened next... how much to write? I'm not sure, but let it suffice to say that as quickly as it started, it was all over; he gasped, his eyes rolled up, and his pulse ceased... I sat there, not really in shock, but just very sobered at the reality of what we had just witnessed: the passing of a soul from the body into eternity. What eternity, I don't know for certain; except we know his family weren't known as Christians, so it is probably safe to say it was a Christ-less one. So, the reality of it all came crashing down pretty hard on my heart. I have only seen one other death here at the clinic, so it was all a new experience for me.

     As it was all soaking in, Steve was asking if there was anything we could do- CPR, another mask, etc. I replied that we couldn't- I had checked his lungs and they were completely filled with fluids; there was nothing we could do with the limited equipment and experience we had with us. He had died of suffocation by the fluid in his lungs, probably brought on by heart failure- we'll probably never really know exactly, but that's our best guess. And what can we do? When a soul is called to its forever resting place, who is it that can beckon it back?

     Suddenly the brother realized his kin had passed away and lost complete control of himself: he began screaming, crying, flailing around. We covered up the body with a sheet and decided to take him back to his home. Unfortunately that meant going back through the market; the market packed with people, curious onlookers. The brother had pulled out his phone and was calling someone.

     Steve told me to get in the back of the machine and help hold the body, since the brother was in no condition to be of much help. As we turned around and moved downhill again, people around us (understanding what had occurred) began wailing and screaming. A relative of the family stopped us and offered to take the brother's place holding the body. We acquiesced, seeing how pathetic of a condition the brother had deteriorated into. He stumbled off the machine, screaming and and wailing, barely able to control himself. The relative sat in the back with me and we moved on. Passing through market, we discovered the brother must've called someone there, because everyone knew what had happened.

     Never before in my life have I heard such screaming, such sound, coming from so many people all at the same time. The whole market, with probably over a thousand people milling around, was howling and screaming. We drove through, the crowd parting before us as we descended. We turned off onto a side road and went down the mountain, further away from the market and away from the clamorous masses. As we drove by, people would see us in the back, holding the body, and begin to cry.

     At last, we arrived at the man's house. His wife and a few children were there; they also joined in the dissonance of wailing and weeping. How sad it is to arrive at a long eternity, without Christ, as it waits in foreboding silence, solemnly receiving the passenger of death, to usher him into that place where there is no repentance, there is no second chance, and there is no hope... only a place of eternally sealed verdict, being met out by the just and perfect command of the Prime Originator, the Creator God...

     While we travelled back to the mission my mind and heart were pretty full... I had been planning on talking with the patient about his soul once we were out in town; but now it was too late. As we talked about it later, we all agreed that it was a lesson to be learned- that if you have an opportunity to speak and you feel God moving on your heart, take it. It might be too late, before you know it.

     So ends this account. You know, we have lots of really good experiences here at the clinic- babies being born, cuts being stitched up and healed, sicknesses treated and cured; but sometimes there's a very sobering case in which we're reminded of the brevity of life, the fragility of our existence, and the reason why we're here.

     Pray for us, that in ministering, we could be effective ministers of the Gospel and the physical needs each day; that we would be so filled with the Spirit of God that we'd be as His very own presence here. Thank you for your support! God bless you all!

-Nate

It's a doll!

   They were eating cake. It was a birthday party. But not everyone was sitting there laughing.              Because a little baby had come in weighing  2lb. 3oz. near the end of clinic. He was adorable, but not well. He was only about 96 degrees, and draining a strange yellow-green phlemn out of his nostrils. At times, his face took on a distressed blue look. It was not a good time to relax and eat cake and pates. We were holding oxygen up to the little face, and suctioning out his nose by times with the electric suction and a tiny IV catheter tip.....and we were praying. And the others kept on eating.

    After a bit of stabilizing was done, we sent the baby out to a hospital in town for further care.

    And, but, the birthday party is still worth mentioning. Our faithful office man, Fre Direk, had a birthday this week. And our cleaning lady has one on Saturday. They were so happy. Shana makes wonderful food and they would not be caught missing it on purpose. So, after they were done eating, the party people would wander in to have a look at the little doll baby and cluck their tongues, and shake their heads, like people do, when they see a fine work of art in miniature.

    Our little head boy from Sunday, a week ago, came in today, after clinic was closed, to get his stitches out. Two other little codgers were with him, and that was the extent of my support group. While he screamed and kicked, I dove for the stitches with the scissors, and thanks to God,along with those strong little friend's hands to clamp him down,  was able to get them out without injuring the little cutie any further.
    Now it is almost night. But around here, that does not necessarily mean the story is over yet. Maybe there will be another knock on the gate at 4:00 like there was this morning. But that is another story....
   
   -Mis Woda
   

Visiting Elvie

 

Whitney, me, Dr Felix, Bro. Mark (background), and Elvie's daughter
Elvie on the bed

This story

This story didn't just happen, but I still wanted to tell it!

 After clinic last Fri, we gathered supplies, headed home for a quick lunch, and then loaded into the Bobcat to do a house visit.  This house call was a little different as we intended to do a paracentesis for our patient who was in the hospital a few weeks back, Elvie by name.  It was Glendon, Dr Felix, Whitney, and I who went.  We could drive as far as Brother Mark’s house.  From there it’s a little trail down the mountain about 15 min.  We had tried to send word for them to have her at Mark’s house, but that didn’t work so down the mountain we headed.  They were very happy to see us.  Before we could start to remove the fluid, we needed to start an IV.  I was able to hang the IV from the beam; it worked well!  J  Dr. Felix then set to work, and we removed 3,850 ml (a gallon) of fluid. 

It started raining while we were there so we waited out the rain for a while before deciding we better brave it even if we got wet.  The climb back up was a little slippery since the trail was now wet, but we made it.  I was glad to be able to visit her again, but I would say she seems to be getting weaker.  Do pray for her and her family.  

                                                                                                                                                                     My little friends and I (on the far left is Elvie's                                                                                                  youngest daughter)

The little Sam boy...

 I was just letting out a deep sigh of relief after a rather stressful birth on Saturday, when I was called outside to check a patient. He was laying in the arms of his mother...and I almost had to dig around in the blankets to find him. A tiny, itsy-bitsy, face peered out at me. His name was Samuel.

 After gently laying him on the exam table, I unwrapped him and just stood and stared a minute. His legs were so tiny and so wrinkled they looked like they could break as easy as a pretzel stick. Not only that, but I saw he was totally club-footed. He had no strength, and only mewed out little cries like a baby kitten. His limbs flopped flaccidly against the blanket. He weighed 3 lbs. 12 oz. His little nose was so tiny it looked like he almost forgot to grow one. :)

 Then started the hours of trying to get that tiny little mouth to suck. I dribbled milk into his mouth with a medicine dropper, until he had the strength to suck from a preemie bottle nipple. What a JOY to see him finally latch onto that bottle nipple and suck away as if his life depended on it.  "That's life and health, little Sam boy," I whispered. Overnight, his sunken cheeks started filling out, his little limbs started flailing around, and he started nosing around hungrily for milk.

 ...Our little head boy came in for rebandaging today. He looked very doubtfully at me when I removed his bandage, and a few huge tears squeezed out when I cleaned his wounds. No doubt he's still traumatized from the stitch job the other night. After his screams of, " I'm going to give you all shots and beat you ALL!" while we were stitching him, Ro and I are trying to make him believe we're his friends.

Loud, kicking, screaming, uuuuu another hit.

Sunday afternoon we got word there's a dad by the gate with his son who needs medical help.
The picture talks plenty enough. He fell and he cut his upper for head open and his chin as well. He would not be comforted whatsoever and after hours of hard work Rhoda and Katie were excited to take a breathe of fresh air. The little boy screamed and shouted and tripled the effect with his hands and feet. Finally a few of us had to hold him down and what tired arms some of them ha after hour and half of holding him!!!!
I really admire the nurses for being able to stitch something like that. It showed the skull and we were scared that he had a concussion. Doctor in Port told Anita to keep a watchful eye on him overnight and then sen him out Monday morning. The doctor said there was no concussion so they are back up here in the mountains again. We are thankful it wasn't worse.

Diagnosis of the boy with the clouded eye.

Here is the diagnoses we received from the clinic out by Titayan where we sent the little boy with the clouded eye. Also an update from this morning. He came to the clinic this morning and Anita is now working on trying to book him in with a surgeon in Port for the needed surgery. Pray that we would find the right surgeon and that it would be successful.
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> And now for the details from Dr. Hager. The official diagnosis was a cloudy cornea likely as a result from a herpes eye infection. He does not currently have an active viral infection.

> His recommendation was to see an ophthalmologist in PAP for surgery to remove the cloudiness from the cornea. He said that even in the US, under the best of circumstances, the best outcome would be a lazy eye with poor vision. But, there is a chance that the surgery would not be successful at all.
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> The eye was a bit infected so he gave him the besivance eye drops, 1 drop in the eye four times daily for 7 to 10 days. He also put some drops in his eye for pain.

If you wish to see a picture of the boy with the clouded eye just scroll down to one of the post from last week. Thank you all for praying and for the interest in the work here.