Finishing well in Togo.

The Hospital of Hope is the Mayo Clinic of the northern part of Togo, serving people throughout this region, including Togo, Burkino Faso, Ghana, Niger, Nigera and beyond.  As many as 28 languages are spoken daily at the hospital, requiring an entire department of translators.  The translators seem at times to be in bigger demand than the doctors, nurse practitioners and nurses.

The challenges of communicating can sometimes be more demanding than the art of medicine.  As my nurse and physician colleages can see on this vital sign temperature graph, the diagnosis could be a bacterial infection, or a viral infection, or perhaps a parasitic infection.  Well, in this case it is all three.  Post op infection plus malaria plus chicken pox.  And yet, because of language barriers, I am completely dependent on the nursing staff to communicate with this patient, because the only gestures she understands from me is the smile on my face, perhaps a nod, and a gentle touch.  

Although lately it seems as if the diagnosis is always either just malaria or malaria plus pregnancy or malaria plus pneumonia.  Even though we are in the dry season and malaria is "less" common now than during the rainy season, it seems that we are treating malaria on nearly every patient.  I actually thought I was getting pretty good at diagnosing malaria until one of my surgeon colleagues here laughed out loud and remarked, "that's because everyone has malaria." My ego was quickly deflated with the realization that he was absolutely correct.

As for wait times to be seen at the hospital, could you imagine going to a hospital that is a long way from home and then camping out in front of the hospital to hold your place in line?  If you leave your place in line then you have to go to the back of the line.  And then, depending on how serious your problem is, if it is not so serious, having to wait for several days camped out in front of the hospital?

This reality reminded me of when a Chick-fil-a restaurant recently was opening near our home at 59th Avenue and Thunderbird Road in Glendale, Arizona, and they announced that the first 100 people through the door on opening day would receive free Chick-fil-a for a year.  People started camping out for two or three days before the restaurant opened.  But that is a restaurant and not a hospital.  But as word of the excellence of this hospital spreads across the region, people are coming to the hospital in buses and vans and bring dropped off in front of the hospital in hopes that they can be seen by a doctor here.  The needs are overwhelming.

We just continue to see patients; caring for the patient that is in front of us at the moment; loving them and serving them.  We strive to bring not only physical, but also emotional and spiritual healing as well.  We treat the whole patient and not just their physical needs.  Often these appointments end in tears, not only for the patient and their family or friends, but often also for our own team members.  No tears were held back recently when a young child had lost it's mother due to an acute viral syndrome, leaving this child without a source of breast milk, and the challenges that such a problem creates in a society such as this.  This was a difficult situation to fathom, and struck a blow to the hearts of the health care team members caring for this young mother and her baby.

Behind me in this last picture is the "waiting area" by the front gate of the hospital where people camp out for days waiting for their chance to be seen.

This is the front entrance of the hospital.  The patient waiting area is behind me to the right.  This is a dry and dusty place during the dry season, and then green and muddy during the rainy season.  It has been my pleasure to serve here and to try to bring health and healing to these people and to serve my colleagues who work here full time.

In just a few short weeks I will be returning home to my family. It has been difficult being away from them for the past month, and I still have a few more weeks to go.  However, I have cherished the opportunity to serve here for this season, and pray that I have served here well.

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

In the middle of the night during the first week that I had arrived in Togo, the phone rang next to my head.  Delirous I answered the phone, and the voice on the other end of the phone beckoned me to come to the operating room.  A woman had arrived from another hospital, having suffered horrible complications from childbirth.  Our team worked on her until the early hours of the morning, pouring blood into her veins, and suturing her injuries.  Her baby had died even before arriving at our hospital, and the lifeless body of her little baby was brought out to her family.

The next morning, as sunlight lit up my room and hot coffee waited in the dining area, I wondered if she had even survived the night.  Even if she did survive, surely she would have a horrible infection or have other serious and potentially life-threatening complications.  But when I arrived at the hospital she was sitting up in bed asking for something to eat.  Not even 6 hours had passed since she had come out of surgery!  

Over the course of the next week, she didn't even get a fever.  Her kidneys were working just fine, and her laboratory tests and vital signs were completely normal.  

Eight days later she was discharged from the hospital.  Going through multiple translators, I explained her discharge instructions, her home care, and her follow up appointment to return in a week.  

When we were nearly finished, she was told through the translators that God had saved her life.  This message was translated from English to French and then to her language.  She smiled, looked at me, and said back through the translators that yes, God had saved her life, but that she was also grateful to me and the other doctors who had helped to save her life.  Her eyes were bright, and her near toothless smile was precious.  She then said to me, in English, "Thank you!"

 This would not be the first time that the degree of gratitude expressed by a patient caused my eyes to flood with tears, nor will it be the last.  What was particularly touching, however, was that she had made such an incredible recovery, and yet her body had sustained such trauma.  The explanation could not be in the skill of her physicians and nurses, but clearly she had been healed of her wounds.  Her obvious gratitude was worth far more than any Hallmark card could ever convey. 

One of the last items to be packed prior to my departure from Arizona to Togo was a set of navy blue scrubs gifted to me by a patient.  She had embroidered Psalms 147:3 below my name on the scrubs.  It was even more fitting that on the day that this patient was discharged from the hospital that the embroidered scrubs reminded me of this psalm. 

Psalm 147:3

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."  

This woman's baby had not survived the birth, and for this she was brokenhearted.  Her wounds had been divinely healed.  Indeed He had healed the brokenhearted and bound and healed her wounds.  

Making a Difference...One Life at at Time...

A midwife working so hard that she has barely left the hospital for weeks. A woman who comes into the hospital clinic a week past her due date and has hardly any water left around her baby.  A young physician, new to the hospital, is orienting to the hospital, clinics and life here in Togo.  A woman, who after over ten pregnancies comes into the clinic with her insides literally falling out.  The phone rings and a there are twins being delivered; can you please come now?

As the first week here at the Hospital of Hope in Mango, Togo, has unfolded, these opportunities to serve have all been presented to me.  To the overworked midwife I asked if I could assume her responsibilities for a week next week so that she could take some time away with family who is visiting.  There was immediately joy visible in her eyes, followed by tears of gratitude.

For the woman who presented to the clinic past her due date, we admitted her to the hospital and delivered a healthy baby boy for her.

For the new physician, offering time to teach, encourage and mentor were met with gratitude and appreciation.

For the woman who had carried many pregnancies and now her body was showing the wear and tear from these pregnancies, a surgery is planned for next week to repair the long term damage.  When she heard this was the plan, there was joy on her face.

And when the phone rings, and help is needed STAT, just being available to go and help is a blessing.

When Jesus was asked what was the most important law in Judaic Law, Jesus replied, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.”  He went on to say, “This is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Commandments or laws are often perceived as constraints imposed on us which impinge on our freedom; however, the command to love your neighbor as yourself brings forth joy, not only for your neighbor, but also for yourself.  Being in a situation where I can bring reprieve for someone who is weary; healing to someone who is ailing; mentoring to one who needs to be mentored; or delivering a healthy baby to a mother who is not progressing normally on her own; each of the opportunities to serve and to love brings joy for both the giver and the recipient.

Each of these have brought joy not only to the one who is the object of the action of love; but to me, the one who has been  commanded to love.  The command to love is not a rule that limits freedom or imposes hardship; but rather, the commandment to love thy neighbor has become a source of great joy.

As the weeks unfold here in Togo, I look forward to sharing not only the stories of the experiences here, but more so about the rich relationships that are being formed.

Yesterday on a white board in the common dining area here someone wrote a quote by Francis Chan which says, “Our greatest fear should not be of failure, but of succeeding at things in life that don’t really matter.”  My hope is to share the richness of the experience of doing things here that really do matter.