I’ve learned that living in the beautiful country of Madagascar is not without its challenges..Yes, I love the amazing scenery, the crazy adventures, the lemurs and chameleons, and the life changing stories, and you probably think that life here has been nothing but those things because that’s what I’ve led you to believe, but there is another side to this place..it’s called reality.
Like being eaten alive by Sand Flies when you take a nap under a palapa on a beautiful beach in the picturesque town of Mahambo.
Like ordering a delicious fish dinner and it’s served to you with not only the head, but with plump lips and large teeth.
Like cockroaches crawling through your water bungalow as you’re looking out over an amazing sunset on the ocean.
Like finding a toad in the toilet tank when you’re forced to turn into a plumber and take the lid off the toilet to figure out why your toilet won’t flush.
Like being crammed into a bus for a week long vacation in paradise and the person sitting next to you not only has a screaming child on their lap, but has stuffed their live chickens right under your seat.
Like visiting the local eye doctor because the whole eye team has left for screening in the capital city..
and you’ve got Conjunctivitis…
Last Sunday night I noticed my right eye was hurting and red. I took out my contact thinking that that was the problem, to which I quickly realized wasn’t the case. A few hours later my eye was more painful and my pupils weren’t dilated equally. Thinking that sleep fixes everything, I went to bed that night with hopes that all would be well in the morning. Of course, sleep doesn’t ALWAYS fix everything and the next morning my eye was swollen, red, and my pupils were still not dilated the same. I found our crew physician, Dr. Cori, and asked her to take a look at it. She was concerned about the pressure behind my eye and said she wanted someone from the eye team on the ship to take a look at it after the Monday morning meeting. I went to the meeting, where they announced that one of our prayer points was for the safety of our eye team that had left that morning to go to the capital city for the week to do screening. Convenient.. Thus, the trip to the local eye doctor.
Dr. Cori took me to the local hospital where we had arranged to meet with the eye doctor. In broken English, he asked a few questions about my condition and then put some dye in my eye to look for abrasions. With my chin resting on that smooth “chin-holder” of the slit lamp, out of the corner of my eye I saw him pick up a small metal instrument. Fighting the urge to protest whatever he was going to use it for, he inverted my eyelid without any warning. I managed only a few quiet shrieks to express my discomfort and surprise. Thankful for him to be finished, he told me that there were no abrasions and that I had conjuntivies..Simple enough.
We returned to the ship and I was prescribed antibiotic eye drops, and no contacts or eye make up for the next week, as well as no work for the next 2 days to prevent spreading the infection to any of my patients. I looked at myself in the mirror, with my glasses and red swollen eye, and then down at my arms and legs that were completely covered in sand fly bites that had since turned to scabs due to the inability to keep from scratching them over the past 2 weeks, and felt like I was falling apart. This week I was supposed to have had my first shift back on the Maxilla-Facial ward after spending the beginning of the field service on the general surgical ward. I had been looking forward to caring for the types of patients that stole my heart back in Congo. The ones who came to the ship with shawls over their faces, and left with smiles and restored hope. It was in that moment that I had a realization of how those patients must feel every day of their lives. Here I was, self conscious about having to wear my glasses around the ship with no make up and a swollen eye and unable to work for 2 days, when I thought of the patient in Bed 1 who has no nose because he lost it as a child to a horrible bacteria. And of the patient in bed 11 who is in her 40’s and has lived with a cleft lip her whole life. My own struggle with my self image was nothing in comparison to what these patients must have dealt with. I couldn’t go to work because of my eye infection and wanted to hide in my room with my glasses and make-up free face. These people can’t get jobs because of their facial deformities and aren’t able to leave their homes without the constant stares of the people in their communities. My eyes filled with tears as I connected, in even the smallest way, with the hearts of the patients on our ward. How much more had they suffered than I did in this brief moment.
Thank you, Jesus, for this time of discomfort and how you’re using it to break my heart for these people.
I am continually amazed at how the Lord is moving in my heart, as well as in the hearts of my patients. I wait in expectation at the start of this new year for Him to continue to amaze me as he shows me more of who he is as our Father, our Healer, and our Savior.
Girl. Nurse. Ship. Africa. Dream come true 