The Professors Have Arrived, Tip Your Hats!

     Here they stand, Doctors in a row.
     Each came to teach us the things we don't know.
     We spent hours with notebooks and meds
     Or using the Ultrasound to measure baby heads.
 

    Then, when they left, we prayed for good minds
    To soak up all the lectures, and memorize the finds.
    We slept on the info, and awoke to the sun,
    A church lady in labor, and bandages undone.
   

     
   

        This baby arrived fine, all pudgy and pink
        We locked up the clinic, and went home for a drink.
        Amidst all this hubbub, our hearts stop to bless
        Our God, and, these doctors who came to teach us!
         
                     Wanting to bless the world with what God has given us,
                          and giving a big THANK-YOU to Michael for making this happen!
                                                    the Ahlege team
       
       
     
       
   

In Acceptance Lieth Peace

He said, "I will forget the dying faces;
The empty places-
They shall be filled again;
O voices mourning deep within me, cease."
Vain, vain the word; vain, vain:
Not in forgetting lieth peace.

He said, "I will crowd action upon action,
The strife of faction
Shall stir my spirit to flame;
O tears that drown the fire of manhood, cease."
Vain, vain the word; vain, vain:
Not in endeavor lieth peace.

He said, "I will withdraw me and be quiet,
Why meddle in life's riot?
Shut be my door to pain.
Desire, thou dost befool me, thou shalt cease."
Vain, vain the word; vain, vain:
Not in aloofness lieth peace.

He said, "I will accept the breaking sorrow
Which God tomorrow
Will to His son explain."
Then did the turmoil within him cease.
Not vain the word, not vain;
For in acceptance lieth peace.
~Amy Carmichael

Sunshine and Shadows

     It is Sunday. I love to sing and see the sun. But the Clouds bring contrast to the sun. And I know that God allows them to add dimension to our lives and to make our heads turn beyond this earth to Him, the Source of light that shines even brighter than Sunday sun.
    I was at a little prayer service on Thursday afternoon when a lady arrived on a cot. As I was walking home, the Haitian nurse who was on call notified me about the patient. I went straight to the hospital, and blessed Mis Katie and Mis Mali for putting an IV in, and making her comfortable on the bed.
   Right away, it was obvious that she was in fairly serious condition. Her legs and stomach were noticeably  swollen, and her feet had open, oozing sores. Her head was bobbing with the rhythm of her respirations, although it didn't seem like her breathing was extremely labored. Her blood pressure was very low, and she looked very anemic. Temperatures held a bit higher than normal body temperature.
     I went home to talk to Kate and Mali, and discuss the safety of her staying in our facility for overnight. We decided to monitor her a few hours, and then called Steve to alert him to the situation. Thankfully, he told us that the doctor was coming on Friday, and her since her stats didn't seem to be dropping, we kept her the night, and started her on a round of Ceftriaxone.
    As we continued to follow the situation, we began to feel that this case was beyond our small clinic's realm of help. Late Friday afternoon, we gave one 20mg injection of Furosemide, with fairly favorable results, but not enough to feel like we were comfortable with having her here long term.  We were wishing to know why there was organ failure, or if there was an underlying disease that was shutting her system down.

   Finally, on Saturday morning we arranged a ride to get her to a hospital. Through it all, her brother was strong and very helpful. He rejoices every time something seems slightly better. We ended up stopping at three hospitals before we landed in TiGoave. There, the emergency room beds were all full. We found a wheelchair, and waited. It was hard to be patient, when I saw all the pain she was in. Thankfully, they shared some gloves with me, so that I could start the IV going again. It had gotten knocked down too many times on the bouncy ride out the trail, and eventually, we just turned it off.
    One of the Christian Haitian doctors that we know came in especially to help us, and he did a consultation on her. By now, her wounds were oozing again, and she was in great discomfort. One kind person in the examination room gave us the bed of their little boy who was only "slightly sick."
     The heat was oppressive, a mouse ran around the corners of the room, while I was there trying to wash the bed with a cotton ball, because there was no more gauze.
    I had to bridle my frustration with the situation, breathe a prayer that I could glorify the Lord, and remember that I wasn't even the person in pain. My heart grieved the absence of order and cleanliness in a place where such things count the most, and germs are being passed from one person to another.
   I sweated inside my huge purple gloves and wondered what all the people were doing that were supposed to be here washing this place up and sending supplies for the bleeding, dying Haitian people. I don't know. It's not my business, but it does touch my heart.  And, I wonder.
     I couldn't resist this picture. It is a little boy that Kate was in charge of sending out to town for help with uncontrollable seizures. Mali said maybe he was an angel, because his eyes just shine with such Heavenly joy. I'd say she might be right!

  Inside of all these medical cases are people with hearts. Some of them haven't had a chance to feel much love yet. Pray that we can pour more out!(And that God would protect us from the germs!)
     There are times when we don't know how to deal with all the fluctuation that our job gives to our emotions. Mali and I were along a medical run this week, and we just had to throw on our sunglasses and throw up our hands. We miss you, Kindra and Whitney!

   -Mis Woda
   
   

Forgotten little ones...

 

 

They are born into a harsh world. They lay in dark huts with the flies buzzing around their faces. Days, weeks, months pass while the severe neglect keeps manifesting itself more and more in their emaciated forms. They cry desperate, hungry cries and no one hears. Their cries get weaker, their little bones jut out of translucent skin, and infection spreads into lung tissue. Their eyes, with an almost aged look of suffering in them, look up for hope. Struggling for breath, they fight for life.

 

 We bent over the exam table today, working with tiny Mishla. A righteous indignation swept over us  as we looked up to see his Mother staring placidly into space. Mishla turned one year old  in May and weighs less then 4 kg. His little mouth jutted out from his face, hardly closing as the skin was stretched so tight. His bones stuck out sharply and we could count every rib. He was too weak to cry, or cough up the terrible flem in his lungs. He reached up with a tiny hand to hold his head as we cleaned the diarrhea off his body.

 

 

 

 

  And it was just yesterday that I looked up from checking a blood pressure and saw a tiny face gasping for breath. Whit and I quickly stripped off her wet clothes and stared at a tiny little chest retracting fast and furious. She was suffocating. I hooked up O2 and held my stethoscope to her heaving chest. Fluid. Pneumonia. She was 6 months old and weighed a little over 7 lbs.



 Her Mother seemed distant, and laughed in her baby's desperate face. We started questioning her, and found out this baby was a twin. Her twin brother was at home, fat and healthy. It all started making sense, as often parents neglect one twin and favor the other. After we nurses, the clinic staff and Shana all had long talks with her mother, she consented to go to town for further treatment. Please pray that the love of Jesus would hold tiny Jeanette and soften her Mother's heart. Both babies are at the Malnutrition center in town where they get 24 hour care and are seen by a full medical team.

              I couldn't help but think of a few lines of my favorite song today...

                        Someday a bright new way will break upon that shore,
                      And there will be no sickness, no more sorrow, no more war...
                         And little children never will go hungry anymore,
                         And there will be a bright new morning over there,
                             They'll be a bright new world for us to share.

                     Till then may Jesus break our hearts for what breaks His.
                     May we, as His followers never forget the forgotten.

                                            - Mis Kate

Mobile Clinic

Praise God, the mobile clinic has been going very well! Due to difficulties in travel (over 6 hours of travel- all of it on trails as bad/worse than our road to Allegre), we didn't begin consultations until nearly 2 PM yesterday. But we still had time to see around eighty people; as of noon today (Saturday) we've already seen around seventy and there's no end in sight!
Pray for strength and wisdom for the nurses, we've seen several fairly severe cases and are trying to make hospital arrangements with the families. And pray for grace and patience for all; sometimes it can get a bit overwhelming! But God is faithful.
The evangelistic services have been going well Praise God!! Pray for many to find the peace and joy of Christ, and pray that we would be examples of His compassion and service. "Come unto Me, all who labor and are heavy laden" still rings sweetly down through the ages 2,000 years later...

Thanks for your love and prayers, and notes of encouragement! God bless each one...
Steve

Sent from Steve's iPhone

Mission trip

We would appreciate your prayers especially over the next several days. Tomorrow afternoon Lord willing, Kate, Whitney, myself, Mis Joceline and several other clinic staff members plan to head for Ti Goave. We'll spend the night, and leave early Friday morning (4-5 AM) for a more remote area several hours southwest of us. The plan is to set up early Friday morning, do mobile clinic there on Friday and Saturday, and hold church services in the evenings and Sunday morning. Then Sunday afternoon we will try to return to Allegre.

Pray that we would be able to reach out to the people of this area- not just medically but with the love and compassion of Jesus. Pray for wisdom for the nurses, and for the pastors that are accompanying us to lead out in the church services. Pray for safe travels, and safety for the remainder of the nurses, for Julien, and for my dear wife and family while we are away. Most of all pray that Jesus Christ would be lifted up by His church everywhere, and that men and women would be drawn to Him!

Sent from Steve's iPhone

Hope! for the Penniless!

    "Come in," I said, as I welcomed our first evening visitor in the door. "I will make a bed for you." It was Thursday evening, and I was just leaving the clinic, after getting the first two people comfortable. Two more patients came, needing beds for themselves and their chaperones.
    I pulled a mat down from the attic, and then, ran out to the wash line for a sheet. This was like having company. What fun! By now, every single bed was being filled, and there were at least 13 people in our little hospital room.

    The reason it was fun, was because it wasn't any emergency. We were gathering our appointments together to take to Mirabale, five hours away, where there was a beautiful, up-to-date hospital. We were hoping they could fix our problems!
     By the time we got done getting everyone settled down, and making sure they all had someone to go along with them, it was time for the people to get to bed if they were going to get any sleep before midnight.
    At the strike of twelve, our trip was to begin. We handed out Dramamine for carsickness, and got everyone awake. Soon we were  stacked somewhat sensibly into our Landrover.
     Then we bounced and rocked the five hours to our destination. When we arrived, somewhat sleep-deprived, we stumbled out of the machine, and toured the beautiful Mirabale site. It was like a dream hospital come true.  Black metal woodwork stood out brightly against a clean white hospital wall. The fresh morning air flowed through the open windows. Lines of patients already waited at the walkways to the entrance.

   We wondered around, and I grasped a life-saving cup of coffee, by the street side. A sweet girl came to talk to me while I drank it. "I don't need Haitian friends again," she said. " I have a White."

     Then we bought a spaghetti breakfast with chicken for all our starving patients. Our poor little old mountain men didn't see anything wrong with just throwing the chicken bones anywhere. It made for some good grins, and a couple embarrassing stories, until they got it all gobbled up. The spaghetti, smeared with ketchup, and mayonnaise, needed to be  sufficiently swiped off the tile floor after the repast. Along the way, the importance of using the public restrooms in the provided places needed to be enforced. You can only imagine. Or, please don't!

     Finally, after hours of trying to lean on benches, and drape our eyelids over our eyeballs, we actually were allowed to see the doctor.Our brave little grandpa, with one good foot, hopped along bravely into the doctor's office. It was now 1:30 in the afternoon, at least, and we had been at the hospital for seven hours. Our two little girl patients looked pretty normal, but the large wounds on our two old men, were oozing, dirty, and fly-tempting by now. It was humiliating to present them to the Doctor in this way, but he was very gracious!

                                    
    One by one, they diagnosed the wounds, hernia, and lumps. They labeled them as operable, for the most part. It was not the time to be depressed! We had a place to go with our big, long-term cases, and we were getting EXCITED. Steve helped set up appointments with the doctor and his assistant for the 10th of June. They hope to continue the treatment plans, make more biopsies, or tests as required.
   Then, we waited some more, until a CAT scan could be made for our bed-sore man. He was so sweet. His sore hurt him so bad, and they had even taken a biopsy. By now, he must be in unimaginable agony!
   "Are you all willing to come back for your appointments," we asked.
   "Oh, Doctor," they all chorused, "whatever you say!"
    Steve smiled and shook his head.

    It was, at this point, edging on 4:30 pm, and we were hitting the trail home. Such throwing up as commenced to ensue. The smells, lack of sleep, and overwhelmingly full vehicle added sensations you may not wish to imagine. We were asked to take two patients from another party along, who were leaving the hospital, to their home in Port-au-Prince, since we were passing that way. As we went that way, we were able to get stuck in traffic. That block-up lasted for an hour or two, which for me, was the longest stretch of sleep I had since a long time ago.
   By now, it is dark, and we thought "Happy Hour" as we pull into a restaurant. It WAS great food. And, then, as we pulled out onto the highway, they pulled out the tin vomit cans again.
    We got home about 11:00pm. After tucking our remaining patients into bed, we said to ourselves. "Bed? or Blog?"
     Shall we sleep over it, or tell the world about it, so they can help us make this happen and change many more lives in Haiti?!

     P.S. To those of you who donated to the hernia girl--she is getting her operation on the 10th of June.