Sorry for the long pause in writing and updating. Daily life takes so much time, energy and effort, thus I rarely succeed in writing about it!
Today I went to the ISP IDP camp to consult as I always do on Mondays. I never know quite what the day will bring. As I was consulting at the clinic, one of the theology students from Shalom university who is doing her counseling rotation at the camp came and ask that I visit some patients in their homes who are unable to walk or easily be carried to the clinic.
The first patient was a 12 year old boy who has never been able to walk. He has some sort of musculoskeletal deformity and can only lay on the hard packed dirt floor and watch life go on around him. I wish I had taken a picture of him so you could see his shining quality--- he radiates joy. He smiled and laughed as we talked. He has not been out of his little mud hut for weeks and still somehow finds reasons to be joyful. Until a few months ago, his mom was able to pick him up, put him on a motorcycle taxi and go to church with him on Sundays. Now, because of his size and weight, she is no longer able to carry him to the taxi. When I asked their desire and request the mother just asked, can you help us find a way for him to be mobile? She just wants to be able to take him to church. Such a simple request. Such a complex life reality. They live deep down in the camp which can only be accessed on foot through muddy bumpy paths that go between rows of houses. As is the case in many families at this camp, there is no father present, so mom and grandma are trying to hold on and try to continue having hopes of life looking different one day.
As we walked toward the next house, we stopped by another home that was closed. The woman who was leading us said that a single mom lives in this house and one of her children has mental troubles. Since the dad is not around, she has to leave this 4 year old child locked in the house by himself whenever she goes out to find food or work. The mom appeared and invited us to sit down in her small, mud home. She explained that her son also has seizures, but he is so hard to control in public, she has not frequented the clinic to get anti-seizure medications. Apparently, the Shalom students prayed for him last week and he hasn't had a seizure since then! Alas, some hope shining in the darkness. The little boy and I played, making funny sounds as we blew on our arms, and clapped our hands together. There is a beautiful little personality in there. If the family had resources, through therapy, would they be able to unlock the barriers and see him develop and grow? Thanks to Patrick being an amazing pediatrician, we arranged for this child to be consulted by him later in the week at the hospital.
Our last stop was a 35 year old man. Recently his two wives have abandoned him due to his health problems. Medical histories are really hard to obtain, but it sounds like he's had a series of illnesses and the last one lead to most of the skin falling off of his leg. He's been laying in his sister's mud hut for a couple of weeks. Once again, to carry him through the tiny, mud paths to the clinic felt almost impossible. But the bigger barrier for him getting to the hospital to receive life giving care is his need for a 'guard' at the hospital. Everyone who comes to the hospital must have someone come with them to cook for them, wash their clothes and sheets, and help them to the outhouse. This man's sister has 5 young children and she has no husband to stay with her kids if she were to care for him at the hospital. But if he doesn't go to the hospital, he will surely die of gangrene or other infection of his limb. Along with the theology student, clinic staff and camp community health workers, we came up with a plan for oversight of this woman's children. Someone will watch over them and I left money to make sure they eat every day.
What a day. My temptation is to despair in the face of such need and suffering. But this is the truth: What a privilege to have the time and resources to stand in the gap and remind these neighbors that God has not forgotten them. How thankful I am that so many Congolese medical colleagues have committed to staying in Congo and using their talents to heal their neighbor, even though it comes at a great cost to them and their families. What a delight to have the resources to be able to offer life saving care to so many (thanks to the generosity of so many of you!). Thanks for loving your neighbor in Congo.
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