No Solutions, No Easy Answers

A couple hundred years ago, Benjamin Franklin, shared with the world the secret of his success: “Never leave that until tomorrow” he said, “what you can do today.” This is the man who discovered electricity… you think more of us would listen to what he had to say. I don’t know why we put things off, but if I had to guess – I’d say it has a lot to do with fear.

Fear of failure, fear of pain, fear of rejection. Sometimes, the fear is just of making a decision, because… what if you’re wrong? What if you’re making a mistake you can’t undo?

The early bird catches the worm.

A stitch in time saves nine.

He who hesitates is lost.

We cant pretend we haven’t been told. We’ve all heard the proverbs, heard the philosophers, heard our grandparents warning us about wasted time, heard the damn poets urging us to “seize the day”.

Still, sometimes, we have to see for ourselves. We have to make our own mistakes. We have to learn our own lessons. We have to sweep today’s possiblities under tomorrow’s rug – until we can’t anymore... until we finally understand for ourselves what Benjamin Franklin meant… that knowing is better than wondering. That waking is better than sleeping. And that even the biggest failure – the worst, most intractable mistake: beats the hell out of never trying.

Two years ago today, my friend Collin drowned in Liberia. It was one of those moments that completely changes you life, makes you think, makes you wonder - am I not invincible? Am I not indestructible?


Through Collin’s death, I have learned a few things.

First, live in the moment – forget what other people think and just live.
Second, take risks (which I understand ties into the first statement, but is also, at the same time – different.) Take risks: its not about the outcome, but more about the experience you gain from it… the friendships… the memories.

Today was hard. Today was full of manic-depressive type swings of emotion. Today was painful. Today was July 29th, 2009.

Pain comes in all forms: the small twinge, the bit of soreness, the random pain, the normal pains we live with everyday.

Then there’s the kind of pain you can’t ignore. A level of pain so great that it blocks out everything else – makes the rest of the world fade away… until all we can think about is how much we hurt.

How we manage our pain is up to us. Pain – we anesthetize, ride it out, embrace it, ignore it… and for some of us – the best way to manage pain is just push through it. Pain – you just have to hope it goes away on its own, hope the wound that caused it-heals.

There are no solutions, no easy answers. You just breathe deep and wait for it to subside. Most of the time, pain can be managed. But sometimes the pain gets you when you least expect it-hits way below the belt, and doesn’t let up. Pain. You just have to fight through it, because the truth: is you can’t outrun it, and life always makes more.


(Still miss you everyday Collin.)

Showing Love And Compassion To The Terminally Ill

Even though Mercy Ships will provide free life-changing surgeries for thousands of people during this year’s outreach in Benin, there are cases where a person cannot be helped medically by Mercy Ships because of cancer or other terminal illnesses. However, there are still ways that Mercy Ships helps these suffering individuals. The Palliative Care (also known as Hospice in The States) and Outpatient Care project’s primary goal is to show love to those who are terminally ill and have little or no support from their families and community. This is achieved through the hard work of Palliative Care Coordinator June Fontes and her team – including nurse Suzanne Zickell (my roommate) and Tanguy, their translator. During the week, the team visits patients in their homes or in hospitals – talking, reading Scripture, and praying. Sometimes, because of their condition, a patient may require regular wound care to prevent infection.

Adele is one such patient that requires this care. A few years ago, a malignant tumor began to form on the right side of her face. Because of the unattractive appearance of the growth, she was abandoned by her husband. She now lives with and is cared for by her daughter, who has learned to effectively clean and dress the seeping lumps. “When I look at Adele, I am amazed that someone who has something that severe can still be singing God’s praises and laughing,” said June. Principles of basic hygiene, nutrition, pain control, and medication administration are taught to the patients and their closest family member or caregiver. Appropriate pain medication that they cannot afford is provided by Mercy Ships. Though June and her team bring physical relief, the emotional and spiritual healing that takes place is also notable.

“We’ve had numerous examples in this outreach of people telling us that they were initially hiding away, but when we came, we somehow gave them a level of value that they had not had before,” explained June. “We have watched people that were depressed become more joyful.”
Burkitt’s lymphoma is a type of cancer that occurs mainly among young children in equatorial Africa. If diagnosed and treated early on, the cancer can be completely eradicated. Seven-year-old Maurice recently began his first treatment of chemotherapy to combat this disease. June and her team visit Maurice and his mother on a weekly basis. Though he transfers between his aunt’s house and a local hospital in Cotonou to undergo nauseating chemotherapy, he manages to remain joyful, joking and laughing with June, Suzanne and Tanguy as they visit.


“The thing I enjoy most about my job is that we make difficult situations easier for each person we treat,” said June. However, the job is not without its challenges and frustrations. June explained that her team does not always get the cooperation that they would like. “Maurice’s doctor does not share information with us, so it makes things difficult because we feel more could be done if we were kept in the loop.”
When all the signs indicate that a patient is terminal, there is concern for how the patient will cope when Mercy Ships leaves at the end of an outreach. “A month before the departure, we start transitioning the patient and their caregivers” said June. “For example, if we are providing them with supplies that cannot be obtained here, we will start to teach them what other things can be used and where they can be acquired,” she elaborated.
“We also try to find a church where people are willing to come and pray for and read Scripture with the patient. It’s hard to leave, but we’ve never left anyone that wasn’t being transferred to some level of sustainable care,” June concluded.
Working in the field of palliative care, death is always present. It is an area of work that can be emotionally draining and traumatic. In the event of a patient’s passing, June and her team function as a support-base by grieving with the deceased’s family and loved ones and maintaining relationships with them.
The Palliative Care Team has shared God’s model of compassionate care and its importance with over 500 church leaders in Benin. Through the continued efforts of June and her team, Adele, Maurice, and other patients will continue to experience hope in a dignified and comfortable manner.

Ganiyou's Burns Finally Heal

Though he was born and raised in Benin, 26-year-old Ganiyou traveled to Europe to pursue entrepreneurial interests. Six years later, an established and relatively successful Ganiyou was working as a salesman in an English shoe store. After some time, he decided it was time to return to Benin to visit his mother.

Two weeks after returning, Ganiyou was attending to some much needed maintenance around his mother’s house. After removing a metal obstruction, he accidentally made contact with a high voltage power cable. He was electrocuted and thrown to the ground.

Ganiyou’s mother ran out of the house to find her son unconscious and without breath, burnt black from his face to his belly, some areas bleeding and exposed. A few seconds later he regained consciousness, shouting, “Save me, save me!” before passing out again.

Four days later he was lying in an ICU in Cotonou, facing a dramatic decision. The most brutal burns were to his arms. The doctor told Ganiyou that his left arm would need to be removed because it was completely dead. He refused, saying that he would rather die than have his arm cut off. Ganiyou’s mother managed to convince him to receive the amputation, telling him that she would take care of him for as long as necessary, even if it meant his entire life. Finally he relented. Sadly, four days later he parted with his right arm for the same reasons.

The burns to his chest and abdomen were severe. The pain medication seemed ineffective as his body continually surged with a piercing pain. Dressings and ointment were applied and changed weekly – an unbearably painful process. But after five months of agony, his burns had made almost no improvement, and most of his savings had been consumed by medical bills.



“I regret coming back to Benin,” said Ganiyou. “In the hospital, people were telling me that God had a reason for allowing this to happen. But I could not believe that it was God that would allow something like this.” One night, after nearly a year in hospital, confused and without hope, Ganiyou lay in his hospital bed unable to sleep. Then something on the flickering television screen caught his attention. It was an advertisement for Mercy Ships.

A few days later, Ganiyou found himself at a screening with Mercy Ships plastics specialist, Dr. Tertius Venter of South Africa. Dr. Venter determined that his burns would need to be treated before surgery could be attempted to apply skin grafts. Ganiyou was handed over to the full-time care of the Africa Mercy nursing staff.



A daily routine of dressing changes began. The process of removing old dressings, washing him under a shower, and the application of antibiotic cream and fresh dressings took up to two hours at a time. Though Ganiyou had been through this all before, he was far from used to it. For both him and the nurses, it was a traumatic and emotional experience. As weeks passed, the dressing changes gradually became less painful. Eventually Ganiyou no longer required pain medication. It became evident that his burns were finally healing.

“I am surprised at how quickly I am healing here,” he said. “My chest is almost completely healed. For over a year at the other hospitals it did not heal. They used everything, but here – for some reason – it works. I think it is because I am smiling more and am happy here,” Ganiyou concluded.

After six weeks, Ganiyou was reassessed by Dr. Venter. The prognosis was extremely positive. The burns had healed so well that Ganiyou required no skin graft surgery. Another encouraging outcome was that no contractures had developed – a restrictive tightening of the skin which often occurs as a burn heals.



For an entire year Ganiyou struggled with burns that refused to heal, yet in a matter of weeks onboard the Africa Mercy, he experienced a nearly complete recovery. His life has been changed. “Before I knew about God, but I did not practice my beliefs. I did things to please myself.” But he has since changed his mind and now believes God has a plan for him. “Sometimes bad can be for good. In life, one must accept what happens and keep moving forward because you do not know the future. Only God knows,” Ganiyou said.

Ganiyou’s recovery is a testament to the very love in action that Mercy Ships endeavours to achieve – as demonstrated by the nurses, doctors, and crew onboard the Africa Mercy. His mother has also been a huge support to him, constantly encouraging and helping him to adjust to a new lifestyle.



Though it will take some time for him to adjust to living without arms, he is overjoyed that his damaged skin has finally healed. Mercy Ships is currently helping Ganiyou find some prosthetic arms that will enable him to have some independence again. “I hope that one day I can start doing things normally again,” he said.

Thanks to Mercy Ships, hope and healing have been brought to a man who has experienced tremendous pain and suffering.

Time...

In the hospital, time loses all meaning.

In the midst of sutures, and saving lives: the clock ceases to matter.

15 minutes…

15 hours…

Inside the hospital, the best medical professionals can make time fly.

Outside the hospital, however, time takes pleasure in kicking our asses. For even the strongest of us: it seems to play tricks – slowing down, hovering, until it freezes, leaving us stuck in a moment unable to move in one direction nor the other.

Today, on the ship, we scheduled a “Blackout Day”. No running water, no toilets, no shower, no washing your hands, no lights…. Nothing! (All of this so that some electrical/engineer problem could be sorted out… don’t ask me for details – I don’t care enough to learn about it.)

In preparation for this day, many crew members had readied plans to be off ship, and I – of course – intended to be at the pool. The blackout was programmed to be from 9am-5pm. (Keep in mind, Mercy Ships is not an business that does things in a timely manor, and if any of you reading this have been involved in any way with this organization – I know you are laughing out loud right now knowing where this “9a-5p” thing is going….)

Anyways, regardless of it being a semi-overcast sky and not one the hottest of days seen here in Benin… the pool was energizing. Had an opportunity to do some chatting online and was capable of downloading some quality music and video from sites blocked via our ship’s internet manager. After having been at the pool all day (which, by the way was only me and one other family from the ship = magnificent), we, as a group, decided to head back to ship about 5:30pm with thoughts that the lights and air conditioning would be back on, and the toilets and showers would be up and running…. Riiiight….WRONG.

After gathering my dinner, in the dark… I wandered about the ship – torch in hand – looking for something to do, someone to hang out with… anything. (Most people were still off ship and in town after arriving back and noticing that the lights and everything else still were not operational.) With nothing to do, I decided to resort back to my old Liberian ways and head out onto the dock.

Megan.



Finally, someone to talk to, to be with, to hang out around. You see, Megan and I both arrived in Liberia on the same flight in 2007. Megan is one of my core people on the ship, one of those people that know exactly where you are and what you’re thinking because they are in the exact same place in their “Mercy Ships Journey” as you are – literally. We climbed up on the wall that separates the safe zone and dry land of the dock from the crashing and roaring waves of the Atlantic Ocean. We sat and chatted for awhile, reminiscing about Liberia and the “Good Ole Days”.

Next thing you know, we are lying on this wall of separation – head to head, laughing – hysterically about Nickelodeon back when it was cool and not all cartoons like it is today. Bringing up fond memories of Family Double Dare, Wild ‘N Crazy Kids, Guts… you name it – it was talked and laughed about. (And yes, the glowing piece of the aggro crag!)



Its remarkable how even in the slowest of times… the times when life slows down, hovers, freezes, and leaves us stuck… in those very same moments – time flies. I’ve not had the amount of fun, nor the laughs that were had tonight since prior to going back to The States in May.

Time waits for no man.

Time heals all wounds.

All any of us wants is more time.

Time to stand up.

Time to grow up.

Time to let go.

No Surprises, Vanishing Acts

In general, people can be categorized in one of two ways – those who love surprises, and those who don’t.

I… don’t.

I’ve never met a medical professional who enjoys a surprise because as medical professionals – we like to be “in the know”. We have to be “in the know” because when we aren’t: people die and lawsuits happen.

Ok, so, my point actually (and I do have one…) has nothing to do with surprises, death, lawsuits, or even being a medical professional….

My point is this: who ever said, “what you don’t know can’t hurt you”, was a complete and total moron. Because for most people I know: not knowing – is the worst feeling in the world.

As medical professionals, there are so many things we have to know. We have to know that we have what it takes, we have to know how to take care of our patients, and how to take care of each other. Eventually, we have to figure out how to take care of ourselves.

As medical professionals, we have to be in the know, but as human beings – sometimes its better to stay in the dark. Because in the dark-there may be fear, but there is also hope. After 11 years of steering clear of a dentist... I went to the crew dentist today - with Ativan, Paracetamol, and Ibuprofen on board of course.

Four cavities (Gross! I know, right!?!?) One filling today, three more in a month. You see, regardless of the fact that every single time I put anything in my mouth - my teeth would hurt, I had hope that one day... it would go away, resolve itself.



(Outwardly - my teeth look great. Apparently, inwardly... not so much.)

I mean, disappearances happen in science. Disease can suddenly fade away. Tumors go missing. We open someone up to discover that the cancer is gone.

Its unexplained.

Its rare.

But it happens.

We call it misdiagnoses: say “we never saw it in the first place”… any explanation but the truth.

The truth being that life is full of vanishing acts. If something that we didn’t know we had disappears: do we miss it? Disappearances happen, pains go phantom, blood stops running, and people… people, they too fade away.

Freedom From Four Walls

40 years ago, The Beatles asked a simple question… they wanted to know where all the lonely people came from.

My newest theory on this is that, a great many of the lonely people come from hospitals.

As medical professionals, we disregard our own needs so that we can meet our patient’s needs, we ignore our friends and families so that we can save other people’s friends and families. Which means that, at the end of the day – all we really have is ourselves… and nothing in this world can make you feel more alone than that.

400 years ago, another English guy had an opinion about being alone, John Donne. He thought we were never alone – of course, it was fancier when he said it.

"No man is an island, entire unto himself."

Boil down that island talk, and he just meant is all anyone desires is someone to step in, and let us know we’re not alone.

Someone to play with, or run around with…. Or… just hang out with. At the end of the day, when it comes down to it, all we really want is to be close to somebody.



So, this thing where we all keep our distance, and pretend not to care about each other – its usually a load of bull.

We pick and choose who we want to remain close to. And once we’ve chosen those people, we tend to stick close by… no matter how much we hurt them, no matter how much they hurt us.

The people that are still with you at the end of the day – those are the ones worth keeping.

And sometimes: close is too close, but sometimes – that invasion of personal space: it can be exactly what you need.