Joy and sadness

The past week has been tinged with both anticipation of joyful healing and overwhelming sadness.

As I walked into the bare, crumbling ward with children happily jumping around my feet, I saw him lying on the bed in the far corner, a simple piece of material the only covering which his father had laid between him and the grubby mattress. His little body was wasted away with the cancer that had spread to his spine causing paralysis and incontinence. The right side of his face and eye, swollen with the tumour, was covered with a piece of bandage. He had been bought by his father the 400km south from his home to Lome in the hope that Mercy Ships would be able to provide treatment. It soon became obvious that his cancer was too advanced to be treated on the chemotherapy programme that the ship funds for children with Burkitts lymphoma. However despite this the staff at the local hospital had continued to carry out tests and prescribe unsuitable medication all of which the family had to pay for. This is a common occurrence in the hospitals here and a constant frustration for me at the lack of understanding, resources and correct medical treatment that the hospital staff provide. When I arrived to speak with the father, they had not given him any idea how ill the little boy was. I stood in that hot, noisy room and told the family that there was nothing further that could be done and they should take him home to be with his family in his final days. It was heartbreaking when, after giving the father this devastating news, he then thanked us for all that we had done for them and that we had taken the time to talk to them, be with them and show love to them. The following day we returned to drive the little boy, his father and brother to the house of a relative to wait for arrangements to be made for the long journey home. Once the boy had been placed on a mat in the dim room of the house we prayed with him and his family. Sometimes this is all you can do. 'May God bless you in your mission' the father said as we left. I left wondering why God allows all that he does (which is a question that is regularly raised here) but I know, even though the family were Muslims, that we were able to show them some of the love of Jesus through our simple actions. I could see what an impact this made upon them.

At the other end of the scale over the coming weeks VVF (vesicovaginal fistula) surgeries are starting on the ship. VVF’s are common amongst women who have a prolonged labour where the head of the baby presses against the pelvis, cutting off the blood supply to the vesicovaginal wall (the wall between the bladder and the vagina). The lack of blood supply causes the tissue to die, thus creating a hole through which urine constantly leaks from the bladder into the vagina. This leaves the woman incontinent and stigmatised. The women are often left by their husbands and shunned from their communities. Many women come to the ship with no family, no way of supporting themselves and no life. This problem is successfully treated with simple surgery however there is not a 100% success rate with the surgery and there are some who will not be able to be healed. I will have the privilege to spend time with both sets of women on the ward, sharing the joy of a restored life with those who can be helped and grieving with those who have no hope. We had the screening day today with around 70 women coming from all over the country to be assessed for surgery. Sadly, several were not able to be helped. It has been a chaotically organised day with a lot of singing, waiting around and me being roped in to taking medical histories from the ladies on the dock as they arrived! All the ones that can be helped have now been allocated surgery dates so I am sure there will be many stories to tell over the next few weeks as I get to know them all.

People here seem to be so buffeted by grief, loss and sadness that they almost become immune. It is easy to look at them and see a tough, 'everything's fine' exterior. However once you take the time to get to know people, spend time with them and show love through your actions it is surprising how many unspoken issues and stigmas lurk below the surface. I feel blessed to be able to go against the cultural grain and help people to recognise that it is ok to grieve, be sad and to cry.