I took two showers a day while inside high risk just to break up the monotony of the day. Was semi-pointless though-I had to put the same shirt and pants back on each time! My pants I chose carefully before going to Kerrytown; one day a few weeks back I had been doused with chlorine from behind the knee down to my foot and well, the brown material was no match for chlorine! My pants were quite bleached. Ironically, that day I got doused with chlorine on my leg was the same morning I had thought, "My clothes haven't been damaged by the chlorine near as much as I expected they would be! Ah life and the irony...
Thursday I spent waiting for 3 pm to come around which would mean my blood would be drawn. Spent the morning working on french braiding my hair then the early afternoon I began to work on dutch braids as well. (Starting to think I should make a list of "Things to do while stuck inside high risk" when you have limited things at your disposal!! Thursday I also called home and heard some familiar voices which was quite encouraging to my spirits.
3:30 finally arrived!! Now to wait till 7 pm...which turned into 9 pm. At ten pm I left my tent and asked across the fence for my results. I was told "My results could not be radioed across the compound for patient privacy," which in part, I understand, patient privacy is important, however, let's face it, the WHOLE compound will soon enough know my result. If it is positive, I will be relocated to the confirmed ward; if negative, I will be discharged tomorrow. Privacy is important, I agree, however, there are some things that cannot actually be hidden...
I was then told, "We will send someone inside to chat with you about your result." And I panicked. Beyond a meltdown. I burst into tears, stumbled back into my tent towards my bed and grasped my phone. By this time in the evening most of my colleagues were asleep-morning comes early and work doesn't stop just because one person gets sick. I called the nurse who had told me she would remain awake until she heard my result--and explained to her what had just transpired and the turmoil I was currently in. She calmly reminded me that we rarely saw a patient test negative initially then test positive. She reminded me I was no sicker--and that my chief complaint continued to be my sore throat. "Is sore throat a symptom of Ebola?" "No, no it isn't, but medical people tell patients bad news face to face!!! I was negative yesterday and my result was exclaimed across the fence! What has changed? Except that now there are three of us inside suspect?" My friend continued to re-assure me and told me to call her back as soon as I knew. I tried to sleep, Ha! But I was too concerned and far too nauseous at this point to actually rest. At 10:30 or so a medical team entered my tent. I didn't recognize them, but after all, the only part of them I could see was their eyes. I was told I was negative! My heart burst with the words of the doxology and I called several co-workers and sent a text to family back home.
Such relief. Thank you, Jesus, thank you. Friday, Friday I would be reunited with my peers. Monday I will be back with my family. What a tremendous gift.
Friday morning transport was arranged and I spent some time talking to my fellow suspect patients, both sweet women who had also had one negative but were waiting for their second result to come back/second blood test to be taken. They celebrated with me as I walked out of suspect (after my chlorinated shower and all my clothes/things got burned or chlorinated) The nokia phone, well, sometimes it can beat the chlorine and sometimes it just can't. The SIM card survived but the phone itself did not. I tried soaking it in rice...but no dice.
I was picked up via ambulance after being discharged, now no longer having to ride in the back! I was dropped off outside my room and took a non-chlorinated shower and changed clothes. (even though I had been given new clothes...the jeans I had been given were a little snug! Which is surprising because I was told by more than one person I lost weight while inside Kerrytown even though it was only three days. The staff there had noticed as well--Thursday night they gave me "Plumpynut" which is something we give to someone who is malnourished as it is packed with protein!!)
After my wonderful hot water and fresh water shower, I was overwhelmed by loneliness. I had no way of contacting anyone as my phone had been destroyed by the chlorine. I wasn't allowed to go to work as I still had a sore throat. I went in search of my buddy who I worked every shift with up until the time I got sick--because as it was Friday, we were both supposed to work nightshift. I found her in her room and we talked about an hour after she got over the initial shock of seeing me. She then got a hold of the nurse who had been keeping my family informed and I got my cell phone back. Thankfully the wifi worked long enough for me to text family and tell them that I was okay but most likely would not be allowed to travel on Sunday. The US was talking about med-evacing (evacuating) me home even though I was Ebola negative because they weren't sure I should travel commercially and because I am a US citizen.
Let that sit on you. Here I am, across the world, 'suffering' from a common cold, a common respiratory infection. The US is contemplating flying me home by private small plane which would be quite costly...meanwhile, dozens upon dozens of West Africans are dying of a catastrophic disease.
You are blessed with where you were born, friend, never forget that. And please, remember the people, the men, women, and children who are dying of Ebola. Remember their families. Remember their loved ones. Pray for those who are utterly isolated.
It was decided that I could travel once I was symptom free for 48-72 hours, and so, regretfully, I was unable to come home Sunday as originally planned. While I wanted to see my family, I understood that I didn't want to give anyone else my cold. I was most bummed by the fact that, as I wasn't leaving Sunday, I would now be traveling alone. Sunday another doctor was leaving, and we actually had the same flights up until we would part ways in Dulles. We had both been looking forward to traveling back to US soil with a friend for weeks.
As I still had a sore throat Friday evening, I wasn't allowed to leave our housing compound. Appreciate your freedom, friends. I think we only appreciate freedom once we lose it--I know I do. Through this whole week my co-workers were abundantly supportive-from calls, visits, chocolates; one loaned me her computer that she had uploaded disney movies on it for me, she also visited me daily and provided me with more sudoku puzzles...
I experienced in part some of the stigma our survivors go through. I was allowed to re-enter the community, but only partially allowed back because I wasn't allowed at work initially. While no one was truly afraid of me, at times I had felt like I had done the wrong thing by following protocol and going to Kerrytown.
I am thankful for the insider's perspective I received, and I am so very grateful to God that I tested negative for Ebola. It is a terrible disease and continues to wreak havoc on the lives of many in West Africa.
Saturday, February 28, 2015
An Insider's Perspective (partially) part 1
Hello all, I apologize for my silence for almost two weeks. Several of us discussed media Monday a week ago and I decided not to blog until I was safely stowed away in my quarantine house, which I now am.
Monday, February 16th, I woke up with a sore throat. Throughout the day I took my temperature and it was in the 99.0-99.6 range. I had intermittent headaches and was tired, but as I had been up 26 straight hours over the weekend followed by four hours good sleep then awake again for a training session, of course, being tired made perfect sense. My immune system had clearly taken a hit. Monday is my off day, so I remained in my room and relaxed (well, as much as you can relax when you are slightly under the weather and nervous that at any point your temperature will spike). I read, I blogged, a friend volunteered to come over which I turned down--if I am coming down with something, no need to share it! That afternoon my temp hit 100.2; not technically a fever yet but high enough that it warranted notifying my supervisor. I reported all my symptoms and a doctor and our head nurse came to my room that evening bringing dinner and donned in light PPE to assess me. They maintained the two meter wide berth as per protocol. The decision was made to re-evaluate me in the morning. Throughout the night I took my temperature each time I awoke. At 4 am it was 98.3! Hurray! I am fine! At 7 it was still in the 98 zone but, as I still had a sore throat, I was instructed to remain in my room and continue to hydrate and rest and try to recover. The headaches continued to come and go. In the afternoon my temperature began to climb again--but the power was out and it was most likely 85-90 degrees outside. Around dinner time a few friends came over to spend time with me on my porch (again, maintaining their distance out of precaution) and they were a welcome break to the monotony of my day. My temperature rose above 100 again; again to 100.2. The decision was made that evening for me to go to Kerrytown, the 'ex-pat etc' as it is nicknamed. It is really the healthcare worker ETC. It has several more capabilities then the ETC I work at--for one, Kerrytown has a lab on site and not only tests individuals for malaria and Ebola but also does CBCs, BMPs, CRP, and oral/nasal swabs to check for respiratory infections. (CBC-complete blood count-essentially tells us if you are battling an infection or if you are anemic; BMP-basic metabolic panel-tells us what your electrolytes levels in your blood are which can help us tell if you are dehydrated; C-reactive protein-blood test that shows if inflammation is present). So, at ten pm Tuesday night, I was loaded up in the back of an ambulance and was on my way to Kerrytown; no longer the healthcare worker, now, the patient.
We arrived that evening and, even having a good idea what to expect after working in an ETC for five weeks I was nervous. Thoughts swirling around my head: "Why had I remained awake 26 hours straight over the weekend? That was dumb." "I am supposed to leave in 6 days!! Why did I have to get sick now?!" "Will I be able to go back to work or am I done?" "Think, self, think, did you have any issues with your PPE recently? Touch anyone while in the market that may have been sick? Did you wash your hands before touching your eyes?!" "What is my family thinking right now? I wish I could call them. I don't think I have Ebola...but I don't know why my temperature is higher than it's been..."
I had the local nokia phone with me but had left my US phone in the capable hands of one of my coworkers and requested that she keep my family and a few others informed of information as I knew how things were going. She graciously agreed, and was the recipient of a running commentary of my time in Kerrytown. I am so thankful for her--she kept me from freaking out the first day I was in there-kept texting me lyrics to various hymns. My other co-workers were also beyond wonderful--sending encouraging texts, sending me credit to the phone so that I did not run out and could continue contacting the outside world, and calling me to help me pass the time and to tell me about work--what I was missing, did certain patients get to go home, the national staff has been asking where I am...
We arrived at Kerrytown around midnight. My blood was tested for malaria at bedside-think fingerprick method. My bed was more comfortable than the one I had been sleeping on the entire time in SL! I was given a mosquito net, some water, some snacks, and disposable scrubs for pajamas. There was a camera in the tent that was on the entire time I was in there. I was told to "wave at the camera if you need anything." Umm...that's helpful, it is...but where can I change clothes?! I settled down for the night and tried to sleep--the waiting had begun.
Breakfast was porridge and a small sandwich with some kind of spread on the inside; both food items remarkably resembled what we serve at our ETC. Around 9 they drew my blood and did some swabs then left me alone. Now the wait for results had begun. I didn't take much to Kerrytown--anything that enters high risk is burned or chlorinated. I had taken the nokia, a small book of index cards, a pen, a printed out copy of Hebrews 11 (although only the first page...no idea where the second half of the chapter is!), the clothes I was wearing, socks in case my feet got cold, a few spare underclothes, and my malaria medicine since Wednesday was close.
I continued working on memorizing Hebrews 11 then played a few sudoku games on the phone. There are one hundred games...but the phone doesn't save your progress unless you immediately start the next puzzle after beating one...which I learned the hard way on puzzles 1 & 2..."Wait a second...this feels familiar...hmm, yep! I have solved this puzzle before!" And it won't let you skip puzzles. I wrote down a few of them that way if my progress was lost again, at least I wouldn't have to re-solve the puzzle from the beginning.
A doctor came in to assess me and asked me many questions regarding my symptom history and about how I was feeling presently. I begin to be quite curious--why is he asking these questions, what is he looking for, and what do I not yet know that he does? He then told me--all your blood work and your swabs are back except the Ebola pcr--all lab work is normal. I don't know what you have. Shortly thereafter he left the tent and I was again alone with my thoughts.
Ebola is a terribly isolating disease. Once you get sick, others avoid you. They have to--else they will also become sick. When you are a suspect Ebola case, you are also isolated. You are treated as infectious and rightly so--you could have Ebola, we haven't ruled it out yet. Being on the other side of that isolation---sucks. You can't get away from the thoughts plaguing your mind. I at least could pray and sing and knew that Jehovah Shammah was near; I knew that Jehovah Rapha could heal me of whatever was going on. There are mountains all around Kerrytown; I began to sing the song based on Psalm 121:
"I lift my eyes up, to the mountains/where does my help come from? My help comes from you! Maker of Heaven, Creator of the Earth/Oh how I need you Lord, you are my only hope/You are my only prayer/And so I'll wait for you to come and rescue me/Come and give me life..."
Sometime after 3 pm, the doctor who had visited me that morning called my name and I left the tent. He was on the other side of the fence and said, "You're negative! Results are back! Praise God from whom all blessings flow! I began a flurry of calls/texts to update my co-workers and family. I then thought I would be released...but as my labwork had not provided a diagnosis, I needed to stay in Kerrytown until I was 72 hours past my first fever. 72 hours was 3 pm Thursday...which means my second result would not be back until late Thursday evening or perhaps night.
Now...to wait. Again.
Thankfully Kerrytown has a lab on site. Some of our patients have to wait 12-24 hours for a result, and sometimes that result is the ever-frustrating "indeterminate" which means it will be re-run but may need to re-collected. The time I had to spend waiting was quite torturous---I cannot imagine how discouraging it must be to receive an "indeterminate" result. Some of our patients believe we are collecting their blood to sell it or to find better ways to poison them--they are quite suspicious. Makes it far harder to develop trust when we have to re-draw their blood because we couldn't read the result of the first blood drawn :-(
This is a long enough post...I will write more about my adventures in Kerrytown soon.
Monday, February 16th, I woke up with a sore throat. Throughout the day I took my temperature and it was in the 99.0-99.6 range. I had intermittent headaches and was tired, but as I had been up 26 straight hours over the weekend followed by four hours good sleep then awake again for a training session, of course, being tired made perfect sense. My immune system had clearly taken a hit. Monday is my off day, so I remained in my room and relaxed (well, as much as you can relax when you are slightly under the weather and nervous that at any point your temperature will spike). I read, I blogged, a friend volunteered to come over which I turned down--if I am coming down with something, no need to share it! That afternoon my temp hit 100.2; not technically a fever yet but high enough that it warranted notifying my supervisor. I reported all my symptoms and a doctor and our head nurse came to my room that evening bringing dinner and donned in light PPE to assess me. They maintained the two meter wide berth as per protocol. The decision was made to re-evaluate me in the morning. Throughout the night I took my temperature each time I awoke. At 4 am it was 98.3! Hurray! I am fine! At 7 it was still in the 98 zone but, as I still had a sore throat, I was instructed to remain in my room and continue to hydrate and rest and try to recover. The headaches continued to come and go. In the afternoon my temperature began to climb again--but the power was out and it was most likely 85-90 degrees outside. Around dinner time a few friends came over to spend time with me on my porch (again, maintaining their distance out of precaution) and they were a welcome break to the monotony of my day. My temperature rose above 100 again; again to 100.2. The decision was made that evening for me to go to Kerrytown, the 'ex-pat etc' as it is nicknamed. It is really the healthcare worker ETC. It has several more capabilities then the ETC I work at--for one, Kerrytown has a lab on site and not only tests individuals for malaria and Ebola but also does CBCs, BMPs, CRP, and oral/nasal swabs to check for respiratory infections. (CBC-complete blood count-essentially tells us if you are battling an infection or if you are anemic; BMP-basic metabolic panel-tells us what your electrolytes levels in your blood are which can help us tell if you are dehydrated; C-reactive protein-blood test that shows if inflammation is present). So, at ten pm Tuesday night, I was loaded up in the back of an ambulance and was on my way to Kerrytown; no longer the healthcare worker, now, the patient.
We arrived that evening and, even having a good idea what to expect after working in an ETC for five weeks I was nervous. Thoughts swirling around my head: "Why had I remained awake 26 hours straight over the weekend? That was dumb." "I am supposed to leave in 6 days!! Why did I have to get sick now?!" "Will I be able to go back to work or am I done?" "Think, self, think, did you have any issues with your PPE recently? Touch anyone while in the market that may have been sick? Did you wash your hands before touching your eyes?!" "What is my family thinking right now? I wish I could call them. I don't think I have Ebola...but I don't know why my temperature is higher than it's been..."
I had the local nokia phone with me but had left my US phone in the capable hands of one of my coworkers and requested that she keep my family and a few others informed of information as I knew how things were going. She graciously agreed, and was the recipient of a running commentary of my time in Kerrytown. I am so thankful for her--she kept me from freaking out the first day I was in there-kept texting me lyrics to various hymns. My other co-workers were also beyond wonderful--sending encouraging texts, sending me credit to the phone so that I did not run out and could continue contacting the outside world, and calling me to help me pass the time and to tell me about work--what I was missing, did certain patients get to go home, the national staff has been asking where I am...
We arrived at Kerrytown around midnight. My blood was tested for malaria at bedside-think fingerprick method. My bed was more comfortable than the one I had been sleeping on the entire time in SL! I was given a mosquito net, some water, some snacks, and disposable scrubs for pajamas. There was a camera in the tent that was on the entire time I was in there. I was told to "wave at the camera if you need anything." Umm...that's helpful, it is...but where can I change clothes?! I settled down for the night and tried to sleep--the waiting had begun.
Breakfast was porridge and a small sandwich with some kind of spread on the inside; both food items remarkably resembled what we serve at our ETC. Around 9 they drew my blood and did some swabs then left me alone. Now the wait for results had begun. I didn't take much to Kerrytown--anything that enters high risk is burned or chlorinated. I had taken the nokia, a small book of index cards, a pen, a printed out copy of Hebrews 11 (although only the first page...no idea where the second half of the chapter is!), the clothes I was wearing, socks in case my feet got cold, a few spare underclothes, and my malaria medicine since Wednesday was close.
I continued working on memorizing Hebrews 11 then played a few sudoku games on the phone. There are one hundred games...but the phone doesn't save your progress unless you immediately start the next puzzle after beating one...which I learned the hard way on puzzles 1 & 2..."Wait a second...this feels familiar...hmm, yep! I have solved this puzzle before!" And it won't let you skip puzzles. I wrote down a few of them that way if my progress was lost again, at least I wouldn't have to re-solve the puzzle from the beginning.
A doctor came in to assess me and asked me many questions regarding my symptom history and about how I was feeling presently. I begin to be quite curious--why is he asking these questions, what is he looking for, and what do I not yet know that he does? He then told me--all your blood work and your swabs are back except the Ebola pcr--all lab work is normal. I don't know what you have. Shortly thereafter he left the tent and I was again alone with my thoughts.
Ebola is a terribly isolating disease. Once you get sick, others avoid you. They have to--else they will also become sick. When you are a suspect Ebola case, you are also isolated. You are treated as infectious and rightly so--you could have Ebola, we haven't ruled it out yet. Being on the other side of that isolation---sucks. You can't get away from the thoughts plaguing your mind. I at least could pray and sing and knew that Jehovah Shammah was near; I knew that Jehovah Rapha could heal me of whatever was going on. There are mountains all around Kerrytown; I began to sing the song based on Psalm 121:
"I lift my eyes up, to the mountains/where does my help come from? My help comes from you! Maker of Heaven, Creator of the Earth/Oh how I need you Lord, you are my only hope/You are my only prayer/And so I'll wait for you to come and rescue me/Come and give me life..."
Sometime after 3 pm, the doctor who had visited me that morning called my name and I left the tent. He was on the other side of the fence and said, "You're negative! Results are back! Praise God from whom all blessings flow! I began a flurry of calls/texts to update my co-workers and family. I then thought I would be released...but as my labwork had not provided a diagnosis, I needed to stay in Kerrytown until I was 72 hours past my first fever. 72 hours was 3 pm Thursday...which means my second result would not be back until late Thursday evening or perhaps night.
Now...to wait. Again.
Thankfully Kerrytown has a lab on site. Some of our patients have to wait 12-24 hours for a result, and sometimes that result is the ever-frustrating "indeterminate" which means it will be re-run but may need to re-collected. The time I had to spend waiting was quite torturous---I cannot imagine how discouraging it must be to receive an "indeterminate" result. Some of our patients believe we are collecting their blood to sell it or to find better ways to poison them--they are quite suspicious. Makes it far harder to develop trust when we have to re-draw their blood because we couldn't read the result of the first blood drawn :-(
This is a long enough post...I will write more about my adventures in Kerrytown soon.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Three Returned Home!
The 5-yr-old went home!! I wish I had worked Friday during the day--we discharged THREE from confirmed which may be our record of discharging 'cured' at one time. We sent the pregnant lady to the MSF facility-they have ultrasound equipment there. We also were able to discharge one of the ten-yr-olds! What a day of celebration!
However, Ebola seems to never allow us to celebrate for long. Just a few hours later the results came back for the patients from the quarantined house-positive, all three. We again have 4 in confirmed. The fourth one has been there for almost two weeks...we drew her blood Saturday and got a negative result back, her first!
Hard to believe I have only a week left in this country. I have had the opportunity to have several discussions about Isa with Muslims this past week. Pray that I will have more opportunities and that God will give me the words to say.
However, Ebola seems to never allow us to celebrate for long. Just a few hours later the results came back for the patients from the quarantined house-positive, all three. We again have 4 in confirmed. The fourth one has been there for almost two weeks...we drew her blood Saturday and got a negative result back, her first!
Hard to believe I have only a week left in this country. I have had the opportunity to have several discussions about Isa with Muslims this past week. Pray that I will have more opportunities and that God will give me the words to say.
Friday, February 13, 2015
Challenge Two
Well, our wards have emptied out somewhat again. Wednesday morning we discharged the patients in suspect and probable and our total patients was 4. WASH went through and deep-cleaned suspect and probable. We currently have 4 patients in confirmed. Two of the four worry me, the other two look like they are recovering.
We are on the precipice of discharging our first pregnant patient, which is exciting yet challenging, because her baby presents a risk to the mom and the mom's family and community. From what we know about Ebola, her unborn baby most likely has Ebola and the viral load in the placenta is extremely high. Carrying her baby to term will be dangerous for her and for her community. The baby may die in utero--and if she starts to miscarry while at home, it is quite possible that she will die before reaching the MSF treatment facility in Freetown because she lives in a rural area. We don't have the equipment to do an ultrasound to see if her baby is still alive--or an amniocentesis to see if there is Ebola virus in the amniotic fluid.
I believe in the sanctity of human life--and I want to save her baby--especially since we have lost so many young kids. But in saving her child, we may lose her, we may lose both, and we may lose others in her community. Ebola sucks.
Our 5-yr-old looks better from an Ebola standpoint. Saw him without a shirt yesterday and you can see the blatantly apparent malnutrition in his swollen belly and he has an umbilical hernia. He looks pregnant, he is so malnourished. He is eating well though. He is not talking at all, not to us, not to the caregivers...hopefully he will beat Ebola and will start talking again when he is back with his brother.
Thursday we admitted three patients from a quarantined house. The 21 day quarantine starts over each time someone gets sick. The government provides food but it becomes more difficult when the quarantine time is continually reset, and the quarantined do leave their quarantine if they have no food. I can't say I blame them. What's the point of staying in quarantine if your whole family starves?
I have another challenge. Recently the Southern Baptist IMB had a challenge to skip a meal and donate the money to the international missions fund. I challenge you to eat one meal of rice and beans (ONLY rice and beans, although feel free to add seasonings to the rice or beans) at least once a week---and as you eat your rice and beans, remember the third world. Pray for them. Take the money you would have spent on that meal and use it to feed the hungry--those hungry near you or those that are far away.
I think it was Ghandi who said, "There's enough in this world for the world's need, not enough for the world's greed." (May have both wording and author wrong, forgive me!)
“No, this is the kind of fasting I want: Free those who are wrongly imprisoned; lighten the burden of those who work for you. Let the oppressed go free, and remove the chains that bind people. Share your food with the hungry, and give shelter to the homeless. Give clothes to those who need them, and do not hide from relatives who need your help. “Then your salvation will come like the dawn, and your wounds will quickly heal. Your godliness will lead you forward, and the glory of the LORD will protect you from behind. (Isaiah 58:6-8 NLT)
We are on the precipice of discharging our first pregnant patient, which is exciting yet challenging, because her baby presents a risk to the mom and the mom's family and community. From what we know about Ebola, her unborn baby most likely has Ebola and the viral load in the placenta is extremely high. Carrying her baby to term will be dangerous for her and for her community. The baby may die in utero--and if she starts to miscarry while at home, it is quite possible that she will die before reaching the MSF treatment facility in Freetown because she lives in a rural area. We don't have the equipment to do an ultrasound to see if her baby is still alive--or an amniocentesis to see if there is Ebola virus in the amniotic fluid.
I believe in the sanctity of human life--and I want to save her baby--especially since we have lost so many young kids. But in saving her child, we may lose her, we may lose both, and we may lose others in her community. Ebola sucks.
Our 5-yr-old looks better from an Ebola standpoint. Saw him without a shirt yesterday and you can see the blatantly apparent malnutrition in his swollen belly and he has an umbilical hernia. He looks pregnant, he is so malnourished. He is eating well though. He is not talking at all, not to us, not to the caregivers...hopefully he will beat Ebola and will start talking again when he is back with his brother.
Thursday we admitted three patients from a quarantined house. The 21 day quarantine starts over each time someone gets sick. The government provides food but it becomes more difficult when the quarantine time is continually reset, and the quarantined do leave their quarantine if they have no food. I can't say I blame them. What's the point of staying in quarantine if your whole family starves?
I have another challenge. Recently the Southern Baptist IMB had a challenge to skip a meal and donate the money to the international missions fund. I challenge you to eat one meal of rice and beans (ONLY rice and beans, although feel free to add seasonings to the rice or beans) at least once a week---and as you eat your rice and beans, remember the third world. Pray for them. Take the money you would have spent on that meal and use it to feed the hungry--those hungry near you or those that are far away.
I think it was Ghandi who said, "There's enough in this world for the world's need, not enough for the world's greed." (May have both wording and author wrong, forgive me!)
“No, this is the kind of fasting I want: Free those who are wrongly imprisoned; lighten the burden of those who work for you. Let the oppressed go free, and remove the chains that bind people. Share your food with the hungry, and give shelter to the homeless. Give clothes to those who need them, and do not hide from relatives who need your help. “Then your salvation will come like the dawn, and your wounds will quickly heal. Your godliness will lead you forward, and the glory of the LORD will protect you from behind. (Isaiah 58:6-8 NLT)
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Highs and Lows
A co-worker and I admitted a lady this past week who was so very sick she would only rouse to her name. We could get zero information from her about how long she had been sick, whether she had been in contact with someone who is sick, or attended a funeral recently. All we knew is she was febrile, had a distended abdomen, looked dehydrated, and was breathing rapidly and shallowly.
We took her straight to probable, where her mental status quickly declined further and she was no longer rousing to her name. We got an IV line in her which was no small feat with how dehydrated she was! But our success was short-lived. We hooked her up to lactated ringers and she pulled out her line. "Noooooooo!!" We looked at her arms again--she desperately needed iv fluid. We saw one tiny vein in her forearm and hoped we would be able to get an iv in it. We did, and I sat by her for the entire liter holding her hand to prevent her from removing her second line. She needed another liter, but my buddy and I had been inside for 90 minutes in the late afternoon. The doctors rounded and agreed she needed more fluid and also agreed to stay with her while it ran in so we could doff.
We drew her blood. She died that night; a short 5 hours after we admitted her. Her lab work came back "indeterminate." We will never know what killed her. Ebola? Malaria? Lassa Fever? Small Bowel obstruction? Only God knows.
I have been off two days. While I was off, we discharged three patients from confirmed!! One was the 8-yr-old whose brother we lost and her aunt was negative. I would have loved to join her on her journey home, to watch her be reunited with her aunt!
We lost the one-month-old. Her father got discharged-I imagine he knows his wife isn't coming home by now. We now have six patients total. Hopefully our census will continue to decrease.
Praises: -We have had several discharges from confirmed!
-I spent a good thirty minutes talking to a Muslim about Isa (Jesus).
-My time here is waning which is bittersweet. I am looking forward to being home (although I am not looking forward to my solitary confinement!) But I will also miss the friends I have made here.
Please continue to pray for the people of a West Africa, momoh.
We took her straight to probable, where her mental status quickly declined further and she was no longer rousing to her name. We got an IV line in her which was no small feat with how dehydrated she was! But our success was short-lived. We hooked her up to lactated ringers and she pulled out her line. "Noooooooo!!" We looked at her arms again--she desperately needed iv fluid. We saw one tiny vein in her forearm and hoped we would be able to get an iv in it. We did, and I sat by her for the entire liter holding her hand to prevent her from removing her second line. She needed another liter, but my buddy and I had been inside for 90 minutes in the late afternoon. The doctors rounded and agreed she needed more fluid and also agreed to stay with her while it ran in so we could doff.
We drew her blood. She died that night; a short 5 hours after we admitted her. Her lab work came back "indeterminate." We will never know what killed her. Ebola? Malaria? Lassa Fever? Small Bowel obstruction? Only God knows.
I have been off two days. While I was off, we discharged three patients from confirmed!! One was the 8-yr-old whose brother we lost and her aunt was negative. I would have loved to join her on her journey home, to watch her be reunited with her aunt!
We lost the one-month-old. Her father got discharged-I imagine he knows his wife isn't coming home by now. We now have six patients total. Hopefully our census will continue to decrease.
Praises: -We have had several discharges from confirmed!
-I spent a good thirty minutes talking to a Muslim about Isa (Jesus).
-My time here is waning which is bittersweet. I am looking forward to being home (although I am not looking forward to my solitary confinement!) But I will also miss the friends I have made here.
Please continue to pray for the people of a West Africa, momoh.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
"Defend the Cause of Orphans"
I am hoping to have a few stories of cured patients soon, we have several that are currently on the mend. However, today I do not have one of those stories to share.
A few days ago three small boys came via ambulance. They were brothers, ages ranging from 5-8. The 8-year-old was the sickest of the three but none of them looked well. We learned from the ambulance driver that their dad had died but the driver didn't know what killed him.
He did, however, know that the little boys' mother had died of Ebola. We admitted them, started IVs, gave iv fluid, and prayed. Not wanting to separate the brothers, we placed them in beds side by side. That night, the 8-year-old died, which his brothers witnessed. The lab results came back the next day--he had Ebola as does his youngest brother. The middle one the test was inconclusive. We moved the youngest Saturday night to the confirmed ward. He walked there on his but his steps were slow. Sunday morning we went inside to give patient care and breakfast. I didn't have the heart to wake the 7-year-old. He was sleeping so peacefully, and being awake right now would be a living nightmare. I asked the caregiver, Zainab, if she would help him eat when he woke. She agreed even though her specific charge was a few beds away and far younger.
On to probable, where the man who lost his wife remains by himself. He has been alone in probable for 3 days now, ever since we had to move his baby to confirmed. He was looking better today, and was actually hungry which is a good sign.
On to confirmed. I always take a deep breath as we approach confirmed. What will I find upon entering? Will someone be dead? Who? How many? Will someone have fallen? Will our charges look better or worse than when I last laid eyes on them? Is my PPE still in place and protecting me from this dreadful disease? And, slightly humorously, can I still see well through my goggles or has the fog taken over?
Everyone was alive Sunday morning. No one had a fever in confirmed. I visited the youngest brother. He was sitting upright but just staring off into space. I gave him his breakfast but he didn't touch it. He didn't move. We finished passing food to everyone and I came back and sat down next to him and tried to encourage him to eat. He ate some but very little. He did drink about 2 1/2 cups water. He didn't do much for himself. In nursing school you are taught that children tend to regress in their developmental stages when they are sick or exposed to trauma. He meets both criteria. Psychosocial is going to try to find him a caregiver. Without one he will die; he will not eat or drink without encouragement.
Abba, Father, comfort the orphans. Comfort this small child. His elder brother was awake when I doffed and was standing at the front of the suspect ward, just staring. Will he see his only living nuclear family member again? I don't know.
Was reading Isaiah this morning and came across the following verse. Quite appropriate for what I witnessed shortly thereafter in high risk.
"Learn to do good. Seek justice. Help the oppressed. Defend the cause of orphans. Fight for the rights of widows." (Isaiah 1:17 NLT)
A few days ago three small boys came via ambulance. They were brothers, ages ranging from 5-8. The 8-year-old was the sickest of the three but none of them looked well. We learned from the ambulance driver that their dad had died but the driver didn't know what killed him.
He did, however, know that the little boys' mother had died of Ebola. We admitted them, started IVs, gave iv fluid, and prayed. Not wanting to separate the brothers, we placed them in beds side by side. That night, the 8-year-old died, which his brothers witnessed. The lab results came back the next day--he had Ebola as does his youngest brother. The middle one the test was inconclusive. We moved the youngest Saturday night to the confirmed ward. He walked there on his but his steps were slow. Sunday morning we went inside to give patient care and breakfast. I didn't have the heart to wake the 7-year-old. He was sleeping so peacefully, and being awake right now would be a living nightmare. I asked the caregiver, Zainab, if she would help him eat when he woke. She agreed even though her specific charge was a few beds away and far younger.
On to probable, where the man who lost his wife remains by himself. He has been alone in probable for 3 days now, ever since we had to move his baby to confirmed. He was looking better today, and was actually hungry which is a good sign.
On to confirmed. I always take a deep breath as we approach confirmed. What will I find upon entering? Will someone be dead? Who? How many? Will someone have fallen? Will our charges look better or worse than when I last laid eyes on them? Is my PPE still in place and protecting me from this dreadful disease? And, slightly humorously, can I still see well through my goggles or has the fog taken over?
Everyone was alive Sunday morning. No one had a fever in confirmed. I visited the youngest brother. He was sitting upright but just staring off into space. I gave him his breakfast but he didn't touch it. He didn't move. We finished passing food to everyone and I came back and sat down next to him and tried to encourage him to eat. He ate some but very little. He did drink about 2 1/2 cups water. He didn't do much for himself. In nursing school you are taught that children tend to regress in their developmental stages when they are sick or exposed to trauma. He meets both criteria. Psychosocial is going to try to find him a caregiver. Without one he will die; he will not eat or drink without encouragement.
Abba, Father, comfort the orphans. Comfort this small child. His elder brother was awake when I doffed and was standing at the front of the suspect ward, just staring. Will he see his only living nuclear family member again? I don't know.
Was reading Isaiah this morning and came across the following verse. Quite appropriate for what I witnessed shortly thereafter in high risk.
"Learn to do good. Seek justice. Help the oppressed. Defend the cause of orphans. Fight for the rights of widows." (Isaiah 1:17 NLT)
Saturday, February 7, 2015
On Food :-)
I wrote this post a few weeks ago and it mentions what our meals consist of most days. Thank you, Mom & Aunt Deb, for asking me recently what we eat! Both times I thought, "Huh, thought I covered that..." And I did, I just never shared it. My apologies!
Monday, January 19th, we had one admission before lunch. Jasmine and I were on the lunch pass and I got to draw blood on the admission! My partner was Joseph, a national nurse I hadn't worked with yet. He helped me explain to the patient in Temne what we were about to do.
As a group of four we continued on to the confirmed ward where we spent most of our time encouraging the patients to eat. There are four women right now and 2 of the 4 are fairly sick. I spent time with the oldest trying to get her to eat some. "Eat eat small small."
Dr. Andrew got off around 2 today and around 3 we headed back to housing which is just a few miles away from the ETC. IMC has several vehicles shuttling people from housing to the office or ETC or into the local town. Dr. Andrew and I decided to walk to town (20-25 min leisurely stroll one way, not bad!) and we bought some bananas (hurray!! Fresh fruit!!) and bought some hard-boiled eggs to add to breakfast which is 3-5 pieces of white bread, toasted. We have accrued a few jars of peanut butter, jelly, Nutella, and marmite that are communal and stay in the center of the biggest table.
We eat lunch most days at the ETC-which is beans and rice or cassava leaf, rice and fish. Quite spicy, even for my palate! And also quite oily, most things are cooked in Palm oil here.
Dinner we eat at the housing compound which is either fish & rice or chicken & rice. My first night here I chose fish and it came out with the head still on, which no doubt, I should have expected! It was delicious but bony. (I didn't mess with the fish head at all!) Since then I have eaten the chicken most nights.
(February 7th)
We had a Mexican meal few days ago. Someone had found buritoes in the local gas station/grocery store. That was a wonderful change to the usual chicken or fish and rice. I am hard-core craving a fresh salad though! We have had fresh pineapples and mangoes recently--so delicious!! And a Sierra Leonean found me apples in town. Apples do not grow here, they are imported.
Monday, January 19th, we had one admission before lunch. Jasmine and I were on the lunch pass and I got to draw blood on the admission! My partner was Joseph, a national nurse I hadn't worked with yet. He helped me explain to the patient in Temne what we were about to do.
As a group of four we continued on to the confirmed ward where we spent most of our time encouraging the patients to eat. There are four women right now and 2 of the 4 are fairly sick. I spent time with the oldest trying to get her to eat some. "Eat eat small small."
Dr. Andrew got off around 2 today and around 3 we headed back to housing which is just a few miles away from the ETC. IMC has several vehicles shuttling people from housing to the office or ETC or into the local town. Dr. Andrew and I decided to walk to town (20-25 min leisurely stroll one way, not bad!) and we bought some bananas (hurray!! Fresh fruit!!) and bought some hard-boiled eggs to add to breakfast which is 3-5 pieces of white bread, toasted. We have accrued a few jars of peanut butter, jelly, Nutella, and marmite that are communal and stay in the center of the biggest table.
We eat lunch most days at the ETC-which is beans and rice or cassava leaf, rice and fish. Quite spicy, even for my palate! And also quite oily, most things are cooked in Palm oil here.
Dinner we eat at the housing compound which is either fish & rice or chicken & rice. My first night here I chose fish and it came out with the head still on, which no doubt, I should have expected! It was delicious but bony. (I didn't mess with the fish head at all!) Since then I have eaten the chicken most nights.
(February 7th)
We had a Mexican meal few days ago. Someone had found buritoes in the local gas station/grocery store. That was a wonderful change to the usual chicken or fish and rice. I am hard-core craving a fresh salad though! We have had fresh pineapples and mangoes recently--so delicious!! And a Sierra Leonean found me apples in town. Apples do not grow here, they are imported.
Snaps Saturday
Sunset view from a friend's porch
Traditional Hut
The famous cotton tree in Freetown
View of Freetown from Lestor Hill (and yes, the US
Embassy is in this shot--can you find the tennis courts?
"Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him"
Diving into the Psalms today. A friend and I have been talking about the psalms recently--the ones in the 40s: "Why are you downcast, oh my soul? ...put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him..." And Psalm 88, the ending, "Darkness is my closest friend." The Psalms carry the whole spectrum of human emotion-and the Psalmists weren't afraid to be honest. Watching suffering sucks.
Watching children sicken and die is awful. We lost two last night alone, both quite young. We also lost one of the ten-year-olds the night before. One from last night was the one year old that we has discharged a week ago Ebola and malaria negative that came back to us with high fever and with BOTH malaria and Ebola. We all knew deep down we would lose her...but you have to hold on to the hope that you are wrong.
Hope. Such an important emotion. Most of the laments in Psalms have elements of hope in them (Ps 88 aside). Psalm 89 returns to hope. Hope is vital--hope is why we didn't tell the gentleman his wife is dead. He is holding on to the hope that she is coming--and until his health improves, we aren't going to deprive him of that hope.
Someone asked me what happens when our patients get discharged. When they are discharged from confirmed they are "cured," and we celebrate with singing, dancing, and djembe drumming. The cured person or persons get(s) loaded up in our ambulance and delivered back to his/her village. Psychosocial goes with them, and sometimes a nurse or doctor does as well. Yesterday two of our nurses went--but they didn't actually get the girl back to her village because the vehicle got stuck in a swamp on the way out! Two vehicles did initially...followed by the rescue vehicle...followed by the second rescue vehicle! So four total vehicles got stuck in mud (4-wheel drive, standard transmissions) and it isn't even rainy season yet!! Oh boy!
The reactions of a homecoming vary. Sometimes, the cured person has lost everyone in his to her family and comes back to an empty house. Sometimes the villagers don't want to associate with them because they are afraid the individual still has Ebola. Or they are afraid the person is cursed. Some homecomings are happier than that, but many are quite somber affairs. Every time psychosocial visits a village (I learned yesterday that anything under 50 houses is a village, anything over 50 is a town) they try to do impromptu education seminars about Ebola. It does exist, this person is cured & safe, continue to report the sick in the village so they can be treated...
Momoh (mu-mu) for praying for us. Momoh is thank you in Temne. Please continue to uplift the peoples of West Africa.
Watching children sicken and die is awful. We lost two last night alone, both quite young. We also lost one of the ten-year-olds the night before. One from last night was the one year old that we has discharged a week ago Ebola and malaria negative that came back to us with high fever and with BOTH malaria and Ebola. We all knew deep down we would lose her...but you have to hold on to the hope that you are wrong.
Hope. Such an important emotion. Most of the laments in Psalms have elements of hope in them (Ps 88 aside). Psalm 89 returns to hope. Hope is vital--hope is why we didn't tell the gentleman his wife is dead. He is holding on to the hope that she is coming--and until his health improves, we aren't going to deprive him of that hope.
Someone asked me what happens when our patients get discharged. When they are discharged from confirmed they are "cured," and we celebrate with singing, dancing, and djembe drumming. The cured person or persons get(s) loaded up in our ambulance and delivered back to his/her village. Psychosocial goes with them, and sometimes a nurse or doctor does as well. Yesterday two of our nurses went--but they didn't actually get the girl back to her village because the vehicle got stuck in a swamp on the way out! Two vehicles did initially...followed by the rescue vehicle...followed by the second rescue vehicle! So four total vehicles got stuck in mud (4-wheel drive, standard transmissions) and it isn't even rainy season yet!! Oh boy!
The reactions of a homecoming vary. Sometimes, the cured person has lost everyone in his to her family and comes back to an empty house. Sometimes the villagers don't want to associate with them because they are afraid the individual still has Ebola. Or they are afraid the person is cursed. Some homecomings are happier than that, but many are quite somber affairs. Every time psychosocial visits a village (I learned yesterday that anything under 50 houses is a village, anything over 50 is a town) they try to do impromptu education seminars about Ebola. It does exist, this person is cured & safe, continue to report the sick in the village so they can be treated...
Momoh (mu-mu) for praying for us. Momoh is thank you in Temne. Please continue to uplift the peoples of West Africa.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
"The Pediatric ETC"
We seem to be a pediatric ETC right now, which is a special kind of awful given children do not do well with Ebola. We have 8 that are 13 or younger, and half of those are one year old or less. Hearing the babies crying Thursday afternoon was heart-breaking. We have survivor caregivers for them, but the fatality rate of the under 5s is extremely high. Two of the small ones are in confirmed, where we currently have TWELVE patients:(
Ebola is currently on the rise again. The surveillance teams identified about a dozen unsafe burials recently.
Just about every day I get asked if I am extending my contract. Most days I really want to--this disease needs fighters and needs to be stopped. But I also hear that March is one of their hottest months, and if so, PPE in March sounds horrific. This is their "winter" season, and 80-95 degrees is the "cool" part of the year. (It's all about perspective!!)
Thursday my co-workers shielded me graciously from high risk to help my cough; Wednesday I had gotten a face-full of chlorine during doffing and my cough got significantly worse. By Thursday evening, with just 24 hours away from the fumes, my cough was much better. It will be interesting to learn what the long-term effects of prolonged exposure to highly concentrated chlorine vapors are!
I wish I had more positive things to say about our ETC and our census. We are here to get the people with Ebola out of the communities, so that is a positive thing. But it is very hard to have so many children. Not that watching adults die is pleasant; it is horrific as well, but children...they should be playing football in the streets. They should be learning spelling and math and spending time with their families and friends and dreaming about their futures.
Some common names in Sierra Leone: Aminata, Mariatu, Mohamed, Ibrahim, Kadiatu, Abubakarr, Saliaman, my personal favorite (and the name I gave myself) Sadiatu, and Isata. I also like Philomena but I have only met one lady with that name. She is wonderful though!!
Praises: my health! My cough is better!
One of our newest nurses is a peds ER nurse! (I will not draw blood nor place an IV in a one month old! So grateful she is here and can!!
Prayers: continued opportunities to be a testimony of Jesus; to be His hands and feet
My co-workers as we take care of suffering children
Asante, friends. Asante.
Ebola is currently on the rise again. The surveillance teams identified about a dozen unsafe burials recently.
Just about every day I get asked if I am extending my contract. Most days I really want to--this disease needs fighters and needs to be stopped. But I also hear that March is one of their hottest months, and if so, PPE in March sounds horrific. This is their "winter" season, and 80-95 degrees is the "cool" part of the year. (It's all about perspective!!)
Thursday my co-workers shielded me graciously from high risk to help my cough; Wednesday I had gotten a face-full of chlorine during doffing and my cough got significantly worse. By Thursday evening, with just 24 hours away from the fumes, my cough was much better. It will be interesting to learn what the long-term effects of prolonged exposure to highly concentrated chlorine vapors are!
I wish I had more positive things to say about our ETC and our census. We are here to get the people with Ebola out of the communities, so that is a positive thing. But it is very hard to have so many children. Not that watching adults die is pleasant; it is horrific as well, but children...they should be playing football in the streets. They should be learning spelling and math and spending time with their families and friends and dreaming about their futures.
Some common names in Sierra Leone: Aminata, Mariatu, Mohamed, Ibrahim, Kadiatu, Abubakarr, Saliaman, my personal favorite (and the name I gave myself) Sadiatu, and Isata. I also like Philomena but I have only met one lady with that name. She is wonderful though!!
Praises: my health! My cough is better!
One of our newest nurses is a peds ER nurse! (I will not draw blood nor place an IV in a one month old! So grateful she is here and can!!
Prayers: continued opportunities to be a testimony of Jesus; to be His hands and feet
My co-workers as we take care of suffering children
Asante, friends. Asante.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
"This is Africa!!"
I am truly enjoying learning about Sierra Leonean culture. Kenyan culture too, the ex-pat nursing staff is mainly North Americans and Kenyans. Here are a few colloquial sayings in Sierra Leone that were entertaining to me:
"Only a courageous woman can fry a bunch of plantains without tasting any."
"Any man that uses his teeth to cut meat from pepper soup with his eyes wide open, is not afraid of anything, he's a witch."
"Any man who chew & swallow bitter kola without squeezing his face is capable of murder." (A kola is a nut from a kola nut tree and is apparently quite bitter though I haven't tried it).
I have also heard quite frequently, "This is Africa!! In Africa, we improvise!!"
Today (Wednesday) was a downer of a day. Our newest patient is extremely ill and the majority of our pediatric patients have taken a turn for the worst. And one report showed 21 new cases country-wide today.
Asante for praying for us. (My newest language lesson was in Swahili.) and thank you in Krio is "thankie," to which most people respond, "thank you too," even though they may not have anything to thank you for; it's almost an instinctive response. Sierra Leoneans are extremely polite. They raise their voices quickly but generally out of excitement not anger.
"Only a courageous woman can fry a bunch of plantains without tasting any."
"Any man that uses his teeth to cut meat from pepper soup with his eyes wide open, is not afraid of anything, he's a witch."
"Any man who chew & swallow bitter kola without squeezing his face is capable of murder." (A kola is a nut from a kola nut tree and is apparently quite bitter though I haven't tried it).
I have also heard quite frequently, "This is Africa!! In Africa, we improvise!!"
Today (Wednesday) was a downer of a day. Our newest patient is extremely ill and the majority of our pediatric patients have taken a turn for the worst. And one report showed 21 new cases country-wide today.
Asante for praying for us. (My newest language lesson was in Swahili.) and thank you in Krio is "thankie," to which most people respond, "thank you too," even though they may not have anything to thank you for; it's almost an instinctive response. Sierra Leoneans are extremely polite. They raise their voices quickly but generally out of excitement not anger.
The Rescued
We discharged a patient from the confirmed ward Tuesday--he is cured! He never even got terribly sick. Ebola--some people get extremely ill and some people get slightly sick then within 3-4 days all their symptoms are gone. There is still so much we don't know about this disease.
We admitted 6 patients :-( Our enthusiasm of feeling like Ebola was on the decline was short-lived. We currently have 10 in the confirmed ward; that is the most since I have been here. The twins are doing semi-okay. They seem to be alternating which one is sicker each day. And we admitted a husband and his one month-old-daughter. It quickly became evident that he didn't have any knowledge of how to care for her besides holding her closely. He told us his wife was sick and coming in another ambulance soon. Once we got he and his daughter settled and doffed, we learned that his wife wasn't coming. When they picked the gentleman and his daughter up--she was dead. We didn't have the heart to tell him she won't be coming, too afraid it would take the fight out of him completely. Is that the right decision to make? I don't know. It's the decision we made all the same. I believe firmly in telling the truth, I do. But as he is already so sick...to tell him might be the proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back. We placed a survivor caregiver in his ward to help take care of the baby.
Since confirmed has so many young children, the ward had 3 survivor caregivers there. A co-worker and I talked to them while we waited for our iv fluids to run (Sierra Leone is currently out of oral potassium chloride, so we now must administer it mixed in iv fluids but they must run over an hour, no less, and it has extended the amount of time we are inside high risk doing meds).
The one lady got Ebola in September. She lost everyone in her family. And in September we didn't have many ETCs in the country (ours opened December 1st) and the few that existed were overcrowded and understaffed, and IVs weren't started; we couldn't give meds because they just weren't there to be given. The other two women got sick and got better in October. One lost her husband and three of her four children. Her daughter lived--but only because she was not living at home at the time. The other caregiver lost her mother, her aunt, her uncle, her sister. So much loss. So brave, that they have been willing to take care of our patients. As my friend Cait said, "The rescued are now doing the rescuing."
And isn't that what Jesus has called us to do? Rescue, because we have been rescued.
Today, hold your loved ones close. We aren't promised tomorrow.
We admitted 6 patients :-( Our enthusiasm of feeling like Ebola was on the decline was short-lived. We currently have 10 in the confirmed ward; that is the most since I have been here. The twins are doing semi-okay. They seem to be alternating which one is sicker each day. And we admitted a husband and his one month-old-daughter. It quickly became evident that he didn't have any knowledge of how to care for her besides holding her closely. He told us his wife was sick and coming in another ambulance soon. Once we got he and his daughter settled and doffed, we learned that his wife wasn't coming. When they picked the gentleman and his daughter up--she was dead. We didn't have the heart to tell him she won't be coming, too afraid it would take the fight out of him completely. Is that the right decision to make? I don't know. It's the decision we made all the same. I believe firmly in telling the truth, I do. But as he is already so sick...to tell him might be the proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back. We placed a survivor caregiver in his ward to help take care of the baby.
Since confirmed has so many young children, the ward had 3 survivor caregivers there. A co-worker and I talked to them while we waited for our iv fluids to run (Sierra Leone is currently out of oral potassium chloride, so we now must administer it mixed in iv fluids but they must run over an hour, no less, and it has extended the amount of time we are inside high risk doing meds).
The one lady got Ebola in September. She lost everyone in her family. And in September we didn't have many ETCs in the country (ours opened December 1st) and the few that existed were overcrowded and understaffed, and IVs weren't started; we couldn't give meds because they just weren't there to be given. The other two women got sick and got better in October. One lost her husband and three of her four children. Her daughter lived--but only because she was not living at home at the time. The other caregiver lost her mother, her aunt, her uncle, her sister. So much loss. So brave, that they have been willing to take care of our patients. As my friend Cait said, "The rescued are now doing the rescuing."
And isn't that what Jesus has called us to do? Rescue, because we have been rescued.
Today, hold your loved ones close. We aren't promised tomorrow.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Grief and Waiting
They say grief comes in waves; you can be coping well and out of nowhere a song, a phrase, a smell hits you and the reminder triggers a wave of grief that slams into you full-force. Seems homesickness is the same. I haven't been homesick at all--we stay fairly busy at the ETC and see some graphic, terrible things that it has kept homesickness at bay. Grief has been a constant companion--but not homesickness.
After leaving work Sunday morning, I went to a Pentecostal church in town. The main church is in Nigeria, this one is a smaller branch. The service was quite different to what I am used to, and the Sierra Leonean I went with translated some of it for me. I can understand pieces of Krio (the name of the pidgin English here) but when people talk quite fast I get lost quickly.
The service was about 3 hours, and was quite joy-filled. Towards the end they asked the first time visitors to stand. Thanks to my skin color, i couldn't pretend I had been there before! Pretty sure I was the only "opoto" there (word for white man).
After the service, as we were walking out, I heard someone call my name. One of my co-workers, her nickname is Queen Esther, was there this morning! She works nightshift Sunday.
In honor of Super Bowl Sunday, I played football with some of the guys on the compound. At first I didn't know if I should play with them-do African women play soccer? Then I decided being the only girl hasn't ever stopped me in the past, and anyways, I can use the "I'm foreign and didn't know it wasn't acceptable" excuse.
Back to homesickness. It's Super Bowl Sunday, and while I do not avidly follow football, I do watch the Super Bowl every year, usually with family or friends. The fact that I am in Sierra Leone and not watching the Super Bowl with family & friends hit me hard--and suddenly, out of almost nowhere, a tidal wave of homesickness hit me.
After dinner we tried to find a channel that had it--and we found a feed out of South Africa that will play it--kickoff is at 11:30 pm Sierra Leone time. So glad I am off tomorrow!! It isn't quite the same experience--but I didn't think we would be able to watch it at all!
I talked to the nurses who worked today--that whole family of 4 came back positive:-( They are currently all still alive, but the twin ten-year-old girls are quite ill :'( We also had two others turn positive, one who is a one-year-old who we had for several days; she tested negative twice and we sent her to another facility where she subsequently became febrile and was returned to us. We drew labs again on her and she turned positive for BOTH malaria and Ebola. Scary, because she met our discharge criteria and one of our staff members held her (with gloves on but not in full PPE) on the way to the facility. So, now we wait.
After leaving work Sunday morning, I went to a Pentecostal church in town. The main church is in Nigeria, this one is a smaller branch. The service was quite different to what I am used to, and the Sierra Leonean I went with translated some of it for me. I can understand pieces of Krio (the name of the pidgin English here) but when people talk quite fast I get lost quickly.
The service was about 3 hours, and was quite joy-filled. Towards the end they asked the first time visitors to stand. Thanks to my skin color, i couldn't pretend I had been there before! Pretty sure I was the only "opoto" there (word for white man).
After the service, as we were walking out, I heard someone call my name. One of my co-workers, her nickname is Queen Esther, was there this morning! She works nightshift Sunday.
In honor of Super Bowl Sunday, I played football with some of the guys on the compound. At first I didn't know if I should play with them-do African women play soccer? Then I decided being the only girl hasn't ever stopped me in the past, and anyways, I can use the "I'm foreign and didn't know it wasn't acceptable" excuse.
Back to homesickness. It's Super Bowl Sunday, and while I do not avidly follow football, I do watch the Super Bowl every year, usually with family or friends. The fact that I am in Sierra Leone and not watching the Super Bowl with family & friends hit me hard--and suddenly, out of almost nowhere, a tidal wave of homesickness hit me.
After dinner we tried to find a channel that had it--and we found a feed out of South Africa that will play it--kickoff is at 11:30 pm Sierra Leone time. So glad I am off tomorrow!! It isn't quite the same experience--but I didn't think we would be able to watch it at all!
I talked to the nurses who worked today--that whole family of 4 came back positive:-( They are currently all still alive, but the twin ten-year-old girls are quite ill :'( We also had two others turn positive, one who is a one-year-old who we had for several days; she tested negative twice and we sent her to another facility where she subsequently became febrile and was returned to us. We drew labs again on her and she turned positive for BOTH malaria and Ebola. Scary, because she met our discharge criteria and one of our staff members held her (with gloves on but not in full PPE) on the way to the facility. So, now we wait.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)