I don't even know what to say, except... HOW CAN IT BE 3 WEEKS SINCE I LAST UPDATED MY BLOG??!! I've been working on some vignettes for you about some of the lives of patients here on the ward for about 5 weeks now, and just haven't posted them yet. Many of these patients have now gone from the ward and are now being cared for on an outpatient basis with physiotherapy and post-ops.
As you may have noticed, I usually put false names up for my patients when I am writing their stories. However, when I told them all that I was writing their stories to tell others, they all insisted that I use their real names! Bless their hearts!
So... all the names and faces are real in this blog update. I hope you enjoy this "part 1" session. You can look for another update VERY soon! :)
The B Ward Family, Part 1
I walked down the long, fluorescent lit hallway of deck 3, and onto the hospital. The path of mint green speckled linoleum spread before me as I passed PACU, D ward, ICU, and came closer to my home; my ward. B Ward. I wasn’t working today, but somehow, even on my day off, I found my feet moving towards that beloved ward where my “family” lives. Tonight was no different.
B Ward (techinically the “General” ward) where I moved to from ortho (bone surgeries) was meant to be the center of our “general” surgeries such as hernia repairs and lipoma (fatty tumor) removals. However, because of the need for overflow orthopedic beds, and short recovery time for our hernia surgeries, we didn’t need all of B Ward for our general patients. So, half of B Ward became overflow, long-term ortho patients. These patients needed to stay on the ship for either housing reasons (such as living too far to come back for their post-op appointments) or inability to use their home toilets systems (mostly squatty potties). Squatting with bilateral thigh-high casts is a LITTLE difficult, needless to say. And thus the B Ward family began.
I wish I could take you all down that green tinted hallway and introduce you to each and every one of them. They are SO precious and some have stories that would break your heart. They are all here on Mercy Ships to receive their transformation and healing. Please, come with me now to meet my family…
It was John’s last night on the ward- one of my 10 year old bilateral casted children who was “long-term” living in B Ward. He, his mother, and his little sister Gladys, have become columns of B Ward family, having been on the ship since the first group of orthopedic patients came from upcountry (Bo, Kenema, and Kono) to be treated with surgery aboard the Africa Mercy. He is undoubtedly one you would first notice among the crowd of upcountry arrivals.
His knees were bent so significantly that it looks like he was bending over as he walked. Because his condition was so severe and his surgery much more in-depth than most of the others, he has stayed on the ward with us ever since his surgery in late March.
I remember first meeting John the day of his arrival with the 27 other upcountry patients. As I greeted each of the patients, the typical response was a timid smile and head nod. John, on the other hand, politely answered, “Hello. It is very nice to meet you” in a sweet voice that rang clearly with perfect English. I cared for John intermittently from his arrival through the first week or so after his surgery. It was after that period, when John, his mother, and little sister Gladys joined the B Ward family that we bonded more deeply.
They begin our ward tour in bed B1. John, his mother, and little 1 yr 5 mo. sister Gladys sleep on this bed; John in the bed above, and his mother and Gladys on a mattress beneath the bed. John’s once crooked knees are now straight pillars of white casts, covered with various nurse autographs and drawings. Over the weeks he was on B-ward, he progressed from wheelchair driver extraordinaire to walking with crutches. It was only last week that I heard an “Anna! Look! Look at me walking of myself!” as he walked towards me, crutchless. Tears welled up in my eyes. I praised him; an enormous grin covering both his face and mine as I enveloped him in an embrace. His little sister, Gladys, has also endeared herself to all of us on the ward not only become the ward Houdini by attempting to escape each time the door is open, but also by her sweet personality. One of my favorite Gladys memories is when she ran out into the hall, knowing she had escapted. I called out her name, and she stopped, turned around, grinned and then came running back into my arms! Gladys pretty much became the B Ward mascot (if such a thing were to exist on Mercy Ships). Not only her talent as escaping the ward, but her dance moves that break out from her body every time she hears the song “Waka Waka” by Shakira! Oh the stories I could keep tell about Gladys!
Moving onto B2 is a 17 year old boy, thin and a bit frail, whose smile lights the entire wards. His name is Yayah. He lives on the ship, cared for by his grandmother. His meek, gentle personality mirrored some of his weakness and frailty when he first arrived on the ward, legs bent at the knees, and unable to walk more than a few steps without resting. His grandmother, a feisty old African woman with braided sliver hair, is completely dedicated to caring for Yayah. From helping him bathe, to physically lifting him up and down from the bathroom step; she is priceless to have as the matronly caregiver on the ward. Weeks after recovering from his surgery, Yayah now walks with STRAIGHT legs for the first time in his life- pushing his walker along up and down the ward.
B3 is a 13 year old boy named Mohammed who has become especially dear to my heart. I do not know his whole story, but I do know that he and two of his younger sisters live in Freetown with his aunt. He told me his mom is in Guinea, apparently unable to care for him and his two sisters. Mohammed came to B Ward a few days after his surgery, his aunt staying with him to care for him. A few days later, however, his aunt left, promising to come back in a “few hours”. She never returned for more than a few hours at a time on and off, weeks later. I found out that often, when a parent is unable to care for their children, they give them to the care of their brother or sister. Some of these children are then expected to “earn their keep” through working around the house, performing household chores. I wonder if it was the same situation for this gangly 13 year old who couldn’t read or write his own name. The anger and tears I fought every time I thought of the difficulties of his young life created an even deeper heart of love for this boy. He was very sullen and withdrawn for the first 2 weeks on the ward, but gradually opened up to become a part of the B Ward family.
Like a rose slowly unfolding its petals in the sunlight, this reserved boy slowly opened up to a personality filled with smiles and mischief. Every day, I would sneak up behind him while he was sitting in his wheelchair and envelope him in a HUGE embrace, kissing his forehead. He would fight me, yelling, “No! no!” and try and pull away. Yet, every day I continued loving on this stubborn boy. The boy who left the ward was one I hardly recognized. It was like I could see his hardness melting away each day. He left without warning to me- home to his aunt one evening. I still have no idea of the bruises and scars of his childhood, but I pray that his heart would know the love of this Jesus that he heard so much about on that big white Mercy Ship. (Pictured in the front left in the wheelchair).
B4 is Tamba, an energetic 13 year old boy from Kono, Sierra Leone who has spent his entire life walking on the tops of his feet. I met Tamba at the Hope Center, playing “Stop-Go” (Red Light, Green Light), Tag, and Hopscotch with him and the other children prior to his Ponseti casting and surgery for his bilateral club feet. Watching him run in the games on the tops of his feet absolutely amazed me. You could tell that for him, despite his lifelong deformity, he did not let it get him down. He was quietly resilient. His mischevious grin first met it’s way to my heart when, after his admission to the ward, he and Sahr, another 9 year old orthopedic boy from Kono, were arguing about something as I came to say hello. After a few minutes of yelling backing and forth, Tamba turned to me, crying, “No! She is mine! She be my woman!” Turning to me, he said, “Kono has many diamonds-I give you big diamond”. I met the “proposal” with a rich laugh and teased them back, “No! I am too old! You are too young! MUCH too young!” My reaction was met by an uproar of laughter by both of the boys and all the other patients and local day volunteers who were in the ward. It became our joke after that, and it wasn’t until two or three more “proposals” that the boys decided that neither of them would have me.
These are only a few of the stories of the children and patients I have come to love and cherish as my own family. Stay tuned to meet the rest in "Part 2". :)
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