I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

I'll be the first to admit, I'm not the greatest at getting myself off the ship and exploring the area.  Thankfully I have great friends that give me that extra little push onto land when it is much needed.  Here are a few recent adventures - times shared with amazing people here in faraway Congoland...

It's just under a mile from the ship to the entrance of the port, and we all know I enjoy walking just about as much as I enjoy drinking water.  I know it sounds terrible, but embarrassingly enough it's true.  So when one of my friends suggested a bike ride I was totally game.  To me, there is no better way to see an area than to hop on a bike and cruise around...well maybe it's second to driving around in my Jeep with the top down but that will have to wait a little longer. 

After finding four kind souls to lend us their bikes, we were on our way.  I believe I stated that it's an adventure in itself walking the streets of Pointe-Noire due to the crazy traffic, well I think biking is pretty close to an extreme sport.  The random potholes and uneven ground mixed with ridiculously large railroad tracks (I don't know how the trains don't derail) and sand that I swear tries to swallow bike tires whole, makes for quite an interesting bike ride.  Now throw in the no-rules-apply driving; do you believe me when I say it was a miracle we all made it back to the ship in one piece? 

 

Why not help a taxi driver change his tire - at least we were able to provide a buffer so the cars whizzing by didn't run into him.

 

After navigating around town, we found our way to the nearby Atlantic Palace Hotel.  This is a little piece of paradise within the invisible walls of Pointe-Noire.  We walked inside and were immediately welcomed with air conditioning, fancy light fixtures, and smiling faces.  They took one look at the four of us - white, sweaty, and winded - and asked, "Mercy Ships?"  We smiled, nodded, and showed our badges.  We were then kindly escorted outside to the pool area.  It was heavenly - there was even green grass!

 

 

Once we had our fill of paradise, we reluctantly dragged ourselves away from the pool.  While we were soaking in the sun, we allowed ourselves to forget about our bikes that were chained to a nearby pole.  As soon as our feet hit the streets, we each said a silent prayer that our bikes would still be where we left them... 

They were there!

It was a great little outing - thanks guys!

 
A couple weeks ago it was actually somewhat quiet onboard.  It was a three day weekend, so aside from the hospital staff and few other Mercy Ship volunteers, many people were able to take advantage of the time off and get away.  I wasn't brave enough for a weekend trip, but I did manage to make a little day trip with a group of friends to the nearby Kouilou-Niari River. 

Hmmm...

Nine of us piled into one of the land rovers and made our way just past the gorge to the river; a few other groups had made the trip during the weeks prior so despite this sad looking map, we did actually have a bit of direction. 

Once we reached our destination we quickly were reminded that we were still in Africa.  Apparently some lines had gotten crossed and there were actually three groups of people waiting for their "reserved" river trip.  After a bit of confusion by our guides, we were eventually instructed to hop into the boat. 

Now when I say boat, I can guarantee that you do not have an accurate vision...It was a giant hallowed out canoe with nine plastic lawn chairs lined up, topped off with a motor attached to the back of the floating vessel.  It was a sight. 

 

 

The day turned out very well - I had my first taste of sugarcane, which was actually delicious - once you gnaw past the hard exterior, we motored by various mini villages along the riverbanks, and we even got a glimpse of a chimp hanging out in the wooded area near the reserve. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lots of smiles shared with a great group of friends.

Transformation

One of the more difficult parts about working in a PICU is the lack of visual progression we, as nurses, see in our patients.  Of course when children are on the brink of disaster, I'm amazed that I can be a part of their healing process, but I seldom see the child back to their baseline.  When I first come in contact with a patient and their family, it's often one of the worst experiences of their life up to that point.  It's a physical and emotional roller coaster for the patient, their family, and even us - the nurses.

Once a patient becomes a "walkie-talkie" (don't deny it PICU nurses - you know exactly who I'm referring to) or in other words, once they are "healthy" enough to transition down to the floor and out of the intensive care setting, it is very rare that I ever see them again.  Although I never want to see that child laying in a PICU bed again, I often wonder how the child made out after venturing out our doors.  Were they able to sleep through the night on the med-surg floor since I wasn't in their room every hour checking on them?  Did they get that plate of mashed potatoes they were craving when they weren't allowed to eat anything by mouth?  Have they lost that hoarseness that was in their voice from the endotracheal tube?  Did they get to go back in school?  How are their parents doing?

Every now and then a family will make a little visit back to the unit to say hello to the staff and show the child where he or she had been for however long.  Trust me, that quick 5 minute visit means the world to us.  It's the proof, the extra reminder, that there can be happy endings.  It's the best reassurance I can think of that helps me understand that I did in fact make a small difference.  I'm pretty sure every nurse's heart swells when they see a former patient doing well.

Here in Africa, the transformation is almost immediate and wow, it is amazing.  The change the patients go through is nothing like I've been exposed to before.  It's so fun to be a part of their physical and emotional journey - it's almost unreal.  Check these out...

 

Remember that little boy, Emmanoel, the one who had the ridiculous oral tumor?  The one who could barely keep his eyes open because he was working so hard to breathe.  Well, here he is - smiling, laughing, playing - breathing!

 

Ebenezer was the first patient I met on the unit - and he spoke English!  He made an incredibly long faith driven journey to reach Mercy Ships.  He is hanging out at the Hope Center for a few months while he waits for his follow up surgery, but he's doing amazingly well.

 

 

Gracia - just amazing.  She too is awaiting her follow up surgery, but has been healing so well.  Her determination and patience are things that will never be matched.

 

 

Gercia had a rough go-around while in the hospital.  One of my friends figured out the power of a cookie - bribery is definitely an acceptable form of therapy :) 



Vernel - I mean seriously, how can you not love this face?  He was the most joyous six year old I've ever met.
 

  

New Smiles for Everybody!

 

 

 





Alphonse - The Self Proclaimed Professor or "The Boss" of D Ward

 

 

 

Presley - The Artist 

 

 

  Sephora and her Mom - she took me down in Memory :)



 

Donald - the man with the best walking stick ever!

 

 

Yvette - Former Handball Extraordinaire

 

 Thanks to all of you for your support! There are not enough words to express how grateful I am towards you for allowing me to take part in such an incredible experience!

Tenderfoot

Much to my embarrassment, I am a tenderfoot.  My mom seems to remind me of it every time I sneak in a complaint about my newest blister after walking short distances.  I used to take pride in the fact that the constant wearing of my soccer cleats and basketball sneakers made me the worst pedicure client ever.  Things have changed.  As I've gotten older I have come to the realization that I have tiptoed around life quite a bit.  I began always looking ahead, trying to anticipate what hurdles would cause me trouble, which turns or breaks in the road would be the safest.  I began strategically planning out the next steps of my life and whenever there was a rock in my shoe I would pull over, complain, and hesitate before I continued on my way.

Just last week I went to one of the nearby orphanages with a group from the ship.  Most of the children were school age - about 7 to 16 years old - with a few older and younger.  They greeted us with skeptical smiles and eventually welcomed us into their tight knit community.  It was clear to see that these children looked out for one another.  There was this sense of togetherness only they understood.  One of the day workers who spoke Kituba, the local language, led the group in a story/discussion.  Then we got together and had a little craft time.  When some of the children had their fill of sitting around, a few of us found our way to the "soccer field/basketball court" aka the dirt area.

The children had no trouble running in flip flops - I decided it's a talent only innocent children are able to master - a talent I used to possess.  After countless failed attempts, I succumbed to the barefoot approach.  If these kids could do it, surely I could too.  I did my best to dodge the jagged rocks and random pieces of wire and glass that somehow found their way onto the "playing field."  I was pleasantly surprised when I got back to the ship and washed my feet off - only dust and dirt filled the drain - no blisters or cuts were revealed.

I didn't ever think I'd get the chance to play soccer with children in Pointe-Noire, Congo - that turn was NEVER on my radar.  It's a clear indication that I have very little control over where I'm headed; I'm beginning to come to terms with that realization.  I've learned that sometimes I have to just walk with rocks in my shoes - and be happy that I have shoes.  I'll probably always be a tenderfoot, but perhaps I'll begin to shy away from tiptoeing around.

Snapshots

 

  

Miles To Go Before I Sleep

 

More Than Just Faces in the Crowd