Wednesday, February 11, 2015

One Determined Man

Meet Sambany.
I do not know every detail of Sambany's story, but what I do know is quite inspiring.  Sambany's tumor has been growing for twenty years.  Despite living in a remote village, he heard about the first-world medical ship offering free operations.  He did not let the distance deter him.  Having nothing but hope and a very little bit of money, Sambany and his son set out for Toamasina using the only mode of transportation available to them - their feet.  After three or four days of walking, they ran out of money and stopped in a village to earn some more before continuing on.  I am not sure for how many more days the two men continued walking.  They showed up exhausted and disheveled, but hopeful, to the Hope Center.  Immediately, the surgeons onboard were paged, and Sambany was brought to the ship for examination.  The lab results showed he had a dangerously low hemoglobin - only 3.5; the normal is about 13.8 to 17.2.  He was given three or four units of blood during his first week onboard.

The tumor is so large, he was able to use it as his pillow.  The results from the CT scan came back.  The surgeons determined that the surgery was feasible, though risky.  The risks were explained to Sambany and his son.  Sambany felt the odds were better with surgery than without.  He even stated that he would be dead without it.


Sambany had his surgery on February 3.  The surgery took approximately 12 hours; the 16 pound tumor was finally out at 9:17 pm.  Our photographers captured his joy as he got his first glimpse of his face without a tumor in twenty years.  Sambany is recovering well.  Praise God!

Monday, February 2, 2015

Sixth Month Check Up!

Okay, we have been here for six months.  Literally.  We arrived onboard the Africa Mercy on August 2nd, and it is now February 2nd.  I have written quite a bit about my job and the patients.  But I have not written much about us.  About how we are doing and where our heads are at.

Well, we are okay.  Adjusting to life onboard was and is very difficult.  The only thing that does not change is change itself.  People and places have constantly been changing.  We arrived to Las Palmas, sailed to Tenerife only a day later, and then back to Las Palmas.  Then, we had a long sail to Cape Town before heading through rough waters to Toamasina, Madagascar.  We have been to four countries - US, Spain, South Africa, and Madagascar - in the last six months.  The language has changed.  Food has changed (I miss those gorgeous Spanish avocados!).
We have been in Madagascar for three months, and I feel only somewhat settled.  Only somewhat because I still feel so oddly out-of-place in town since I do not know Malagasy.  Of course, I can ask someone if they have pain, feel itchy, or if they want a balloon.  However, these do not help when we are at market.  We have been going through the phases of cultural adjustment - honeymoon, hostility, humor, and home.  I first described these when talking about the culture aboard the ship, but we also go through these phases with each new country we are in.  The ship's culture changes in each country.  For instance, in Spain, the curfew was 1am.  Here, in Madagascar, the curfew is 9pm.  In Spain, there were fewer people onboard.  Now that the hospital is running, there are twice as many crew members and a couple hundred day workers.  These details, and so many others, affect the culture onboard.
I passed through a brief honeymoon phase.  My hostility phase lasted longer.  I had high expectations for this organization.  Its motto called to me - "Mercy Ships follows the 2,000-year-old model of Jesus to provide hope and healing to the world's forgotten poor." However, I was disappointed.  I expected too much.  I forgot that the organization is comprised of humans.  Humans are fallible.  Humans make mistakes.  Humans are Christ-like, not Christ.  I have not always been the most gracious to my fellow crew mates nor the organization.  But I have expected graciousness.  I have been looking around thinking about how others should act, become better Christians, instead of looking at how I act and could become more like Jesus.  I sulked because this life, despite all the amazing opportunities it presents, is more difficult that I imagined.
I eventually found my sense of humor.  And now I am working on feeling at home.  There are days I want to pack my bags and leave, though those days are far less frequent than a few months ago.  Most days, I feel content.  I am not in love with this ship, but I do believe this is where God wants me right now.
I do not know what the future holds.  As of now, we remain committed to serving a full two years.  I have been thinking of Genesis 22 for many months now.  God tested Abraham.  God told Abraham to take his only son, Isaac, to a designated location and sacrifice his son as a burnt offering.  On the long three-day journey, Abraham remained committed; he would kill his son as God asked.  He was going to sacrifice Isaac.  As he built an altar, he remained committed.  He arranged the wood so that the sacrifice, his only son, would burn.  He still remained committed.  He tied Isaac to the altar.  Abraham remained committed.  Only when Abraham took hold of a knife, intending to slay his son, did God intervene.  God was pleased with Abraham's love and obedience.
I can only imagine what thoughts raced through Abraham's mind as they rode.  Perhaps he said something similar to what Jesus said just before being arrested - "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done" (Luke 22:42).
I do not claim that what hardship I have endured remotely compares to the anguish Abraham or Jesus felt.  Indeed, my troubles seem petty in comparison, yet I have found myself asking God to let us come home.  There are many ways in which I fall short of Abraham, but, like him, I remain committed.  

That is where we are right now.  We are committed to serving God here on the Africa Mercy.  We pray that we remain in His will and that He continues to give us strength for each day we are far from our loved ones.  Please pray for us as well.