Blog 3

When it rains here, it pours.  Literally. It rains so hard I seriously consider at least 1 time during each storm that the roof will come crashing down.  The thunder cracks so close and so loud it feels like it is in the same room and the lightening lights up the sky in such a way that if you weren't worried about the caving in roof, your ear drums being shot by the thunder, or the possibility of death by electrocution, I'm sure you would be awe inspired.

I'm finding it really hard to write these blog posts.  I have a new and increasing admiration for bloggers and people with the gift of written communication.  I wrote an entire post the other day and yet life and emotions are happening and changing everyday that it is extremely hard to keep up with them.  The post that was written the other day talked about the difficulties of nursing in a 3rd world mission hospital... Lack of supplies... Need for more training and staff... Blah bah blah... Just your typical 3rd world hospital blog post I suppose.  I had finished it and was  struggling with how to put pictures on the blog and stressing myself over the fact that there were a million better things to be doing with my time than watching the internet load and growing increasingly frustrated with how painfully slow it was mixed with my lack of technological knowledge and skill when I just ditched it all and went back to the ER.

It is 2 am however and I am wide awake listening to the night noises which closely resembles a "sounds of the African rain forest" sound track with a few howling dogs and a drum in the background- so figured I would try my luck at finishing a post.

It is impossible to describe the intricacies and roots of a culture where death is such a common part of life, where

children are sometimes deemed not worth the financial cost and/or time of treatment by the parents and nurses alike, where families are accustomed to facing a decision to treat one child at the risk of taking away resources from the other children at home.  I could live here a thousand years and perhaps not even scratch the surface, but with time, little by little, small glimpses of understanding are given to us.  Insight begins to bud, judgement begins to fade away and humbleness sneaks in and grants you grace for a group of people that are forced to face decisions, make sacrifices and experience loss in a way so foreign and unique to us in the western world that we can't possibly understand.  The ethical struggles here are so detailed and extensive and I am sure there are amazing books written about all of it explaining everything... But to experience it first hand and care about the people as unique individuals and friends, can often prove to be quite the challenge and perhaps not as clear cut as it would appear from an outside standpoint. The other day a small child passed away from severe malaria.  In the hour before her death we did everything possible for her with the resources available.  When her heart stopped we continued to fight for her life with CPR, meds and bagging.  Normally at a regular government hospital here in Congo, unless the family paid up front for all treatment she would not even receive the basic care, much less a team of people giving her everything possible.  While talking to the dad after and expressing my condolences he simply said (in French)  "it is life in Africa, but you did all you could, you did so many things, thank you."  In a time where after seeing this scenario time after time, day after day, week after week, and watching death after death, it is often too easy to get discouraged, wonder why we do any of it, question if ignorance really is better than this pain, this dad's statement really made an impression on me.  Maybe we were not able to save this child's life, but in fighting for her, in caring, in doing all we could, a value was placed on her life and the father recognized that.  I thought  back to all the children that have passed away these last few months and I had a vision of them in heaven already, but watching us fight for their life, and realizing that just this in itself makes everything worth the fight. The value in playing a role to place meaning on someone's life is immeasurable.

Sometimes it is too easy to fill your mind with the negative because the feeling of pain and frustration here is often so much louder then anything else.  I could go on and on about different children like this little girl that are brought in just a little too late, too sick and too advanced in their disease process that they don't make it.  In a hospital back home, successes are generally the standard and so not celebrated as much- but here in a place where treatment is scarce, medicines are always out, staff are often poorly educated and the patients come in so late into the disease and so close to death, successes are actually quite amazing and happen countless times.  There are so many patients that come in knocking on deaths door and yet because of the meds and treatment we do have, mixed with their superhero like strength and fight the people have here, they survive and are given another shot at life.  Children come in from an outside village, being held by their parents on motor taxis and seizing from blood sugars so low they don't even read on our machines, hematocrits of 10 (for those non medical that is very very low and extremely anemic), their blood streams just swarming with malaria parasites, fevers of 40 degrees C (very very hot) and so acidotic they would be intubated in a heartbeat back home, and yet with fast action of iv placement, glucose, malaria meds, blood transfusions, fever control, oxygen and fluid boluses, they can walk out of the hospital in a few days.  Kids come in, completely altered, in comas from meningitis or malaria and after treatment, supportive care, time and a lot of prayers, they start to wake up, move, gain strength and can leave the hospital a healthy child.  The sadness that is seen and experienced is immense and can churn your stomach and hurt your heart incredibly, but the amazing successes are equally awe inspiring and I am finding that one needs to learn to focus on these for emotional preservation.  It is like the African thunder storm- so loud, often destructive and fear causing, but if you put your fears aside for a moment, face the rain head on and witness the African sky go from pitch black to brilliantly lighting up the African jungle and river, it is indescribably beautiful.