From Ship to Shore

I’m not really sure what I should be feeling right now. After arriving to the ship at the end of January and jumping into work as Maxfax team leader, I felt like I was running a 4 1/2 month marathon. Then when we were 2 days away from closing the hospital, unforeseen circumstances caused us to extend the closing by 3 days. Oh how I wanted to cry from fatigue! But we managed with nurses offering to work and the other team leaders kindly took the extra days on-call so I didn’t have to. Then on Monday just gone, we finally discharged the last patients and we sighed a massive sigh of relief. The nurses blitzed the hospital cleaning, packing and tying down while I finished projects I had been working on and tied up loose ends for the next team leader. Before I knew it, Friday morning was here, I said a lot of goodbyes and I hopped on a plane to Togo. (The most expensive flight I’ve ever been on but it was direct and uncomplicated which I appreciate.) Now I’m sitting at a beach-side hotel restaurant in Lomé, Togo listening to Kenny G on repeat and drinking Nescafé coffee (not my favourite but it’s the only option). So, in the next few days comes the big gear shift to remote African living.

Yesterday I was met at the Lomé airport by my friend Miriam who I lived on the ship with me for almost 3 years a few years ago. She’s a pharmacist and has worked at the Hospital of Hope in Mango now for 3 1/2 years. She took the 8 hour night bus journey from Mango to Lomé with another missionary Susie, in order to pick me up and shop for supplies in the bigger stores. The shopping list has things like 10 boxes of Honey Puffs, 20L of soy milk, pancake syrup and a cross trainer exercise machine to name a few. She only comes to Lomé about every 6 months on average so it’s sort of shop until you drop and get a taxi not a motorbike back to the beach hotel. 

I only have the rest of this day and the 9hr taxi ride tomorrow to shift my mind to the 2 months of hospital nursing and village life ahead of me and to process the 4 1/2 months of working and living life on the AFM with Mercy Ships. I know it will take longer than the next 36hrs but I have to start somewhere.

The night before I left the ship the communications team gave us access to some photos from the previous month, a time when my ward was full of one year old cleft lip or palate repairs. The first few days were miserable for them and there was so much crying but by 4-5 days post-op their pain had decreased and they were smiling and happy. One little one named Oslima showed her joy by sticking her little tongue out all the time. We all poured out so much love on these babies and their mamas. What a special time.

 

There was also a woman on the ward we called Mama Sabine. She is such a special woman who loved on each of us as if we were her grandchild. Someone asked her if she was looking forward to going home after her surgery. She said, “This place is just an extension of my home.” When I went to greet her each morning she’d give me a big hug and kiss on the cheek and tell me how her night was and ask me how I was. We all adored her.

 

Another patient who was with us to the end was Lawrence. He had a bit of a hard trot with delayed wound healing and several returns to the OR which caused him to be quite downcast on the ward but by the last few days of his stay he was happier and doing well.

I wish it was easier to know how my patients do after they leave from our hospital and the ship sails away. So often I think the same as Mama Sabine said as she walked out and down the hospital hallway towards the stairs to the gangway, “See you in heaven!” What a party it will be to see each other again.
 

I leave the ship knowing I will return in the next while but waiting for God’s direction. In the meantime I follow the steps laid out in front of me, knowing a hospital on land will stretch me in different directions than the ship did but I’m looking forward to a different way of life and sharing the journey with you.