Yesu ben n’kanu

I returned to the clinic on Tuesday after the afternoon rest period to find a man curled up in the fetal position on one of the benches outside the consultation room. Despite so many people being very sick, I have never seen a patient appear in such agony. Looking over the shoulder of the nurse I was working with at the lab results –it confirmed this man’s case was malaria. Thinking I would assist the nurse in preparing the IV solutions and following her directions, I soon realized that I was left alone. All the nurses were called into a meeting and I discovered that the statements that I had been responding “oui, oui” to without really knowing what I was agreeing to were questions from the doctors and nurses if I could take care of the patient while they had their meeting. I’m very familiar with the routine now: medicine to get the fever down first, glucose with vitamins and malaria medication added afterwards. This situation gave me the opportunity to feel like he was my patient. No one was there to help tell him what was going on, except me: that the IV, yes, it would hurt a little when I put it in, and that he would have to stay for at least eight or so hours. I really enjoyed getting to build this nurse/patient relationship that I haven’t had a chance to be able to much yet because I’m usually with another nurse who is in charge. It was fun laughing together the next day that yes, he could call me his American nurse, but not his wife.

Later in the week after the girls and I returned from a long walk (in which the eldest took the whole time explaining to me what the movie “Babe” was about) Felix told me that a woman was in labor and he was going to go back to the clinic at 10pm to see how things were. I went with him, and two hours later a 2.2 kg baby was in the arms of his mother. This was my first experience of getting to spend extended time with a mom who is waiting to have her child (the other births were much quicker.) Holding the 17 year-old’s hair back as she vomited and giving her oxygen while telling her repeatedly “it’s ok, it’s ok,” were some of the things I did. In Burkina, the mom’s are walking within minutes after birth, and most leave the next day. I’ve spent some time with the midwife helping her with pre-natal examinations. It’s fun trying to figure out which way the baby is presented and listening for the heart beat with the ultrasound. Another interesting thing about African culture is if a woman gets pregnant, she doesn’t immediately tell all her friends. In fact, she will try to keep it a secret for as long as possible- sometimes this is to keep others from putting curses on her child.

One of the women from the Nav team got sick and stayed at Felix and Nema’s house for a couple days before she returned home. It was very uplifting for me to have a fellow American around to chat with and discuss what thoughts I have been having during my time here. Without a team coming with me sometimes I don’t realize the ways God has been so good to me, because I don’t have anyone to debrief with or talk out what I’m experiencing. I got a taste of this with her, and it was refreshing.

I’ve learned some songs in Jula (one of the village languages here) from the workers at the hospital and really enjoy trying to memorize them. (Jesus loves me, and I’ve got peace like a river in my soul). I sang them to Dorcas, the girl who help out cooking and cleaning at Felix and Nema’s home and she was delighted, since they were in her language.

I return home in a little less than a week (August 3, 11:30pm I fly into the Indy airport and I hope mom, and dad, you are there!) and it’s amazing to realize that six weeks will have gone by. If you are praying, please pray that this last week is especially used by God to advance his Kingdom here on earth.

I cannot thank you enough for the many emails and prayers you have sent to encourage me while I've been here. They have been a huge blessing.