She lay there on the operating table, and as I watched her breathing, her hair discolored from malnutrition, her thin frame like a child's beneath the surgical drapes, I knew that despite our best efforts we had not been successful. She was no better off than before we started. And yet, I had an overwhelming, confusing sense of peace. I felt an unreasonable hope for her.
Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give
the reason for the hope that you have. -1 Peter 3:15
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| The OB/GYN ward in the waning hours of the day, around 5pm |
Hindsight is 20/20. The downside to adding her to the schedule was that she went last in the day. We were all tired, and 5:30 pm is not a good time to start any non-urgent case, much less a very difficult case. We started to operate, and immediately I realized there was a ton of scar tissue and very little good tissue left. Secondly, there was not just one but two holes in the bladder (one was clearly visible and fairly "easy" to close). As the surgical team only takes breaks in-between surgeries to eat peanuts, tea, and bread, at this hour, I was quickly becoming hypoglycemic with my pregnancy as well. I switched back and forth being the main operator and assistant with another experienced general surgeon. Long story, a bit shorter, we stopped the operation vaginally after we realized that most of our sutures were just pulling through very fragile tissue, and we then made an incision in her abdomen from above. Upon entry, her bladder literally tore open. And my heart broke with it.
At this point, it was 7pm. I was feeling very poorly, and had to step out of the surgery. Open abdominal operations on the bladder aren't really my specialty, but I felt guilty nonetheless. I went out to take off the hot surgical gown and get some water, but realized I had already finished my bottle of water. This was not good as there was no tea left, and I can't drink the unfiltered water here without potentially getting sick. I sent an urgent message for someone to bring me a banana and water if possible. After the banana and water, I indeed felt much better. The operating room staff instructed me to leave and go home, but I knew I couldn't. She was my patient. I had insisted on her being on the schedule. To top it off, I knew the surgical assistant, herself, was sick with malaria and yet she was still there. No. In good conscience, I couldn't leave.
Back in the operating room, the surgeon told me he had found not 2, but 3 holes in the bladder. He had repaired 2 of them from above, but was now again trying the repair of the 3rd vaginally. As I didn't want to "waste resources" by scrubbing in again and using 2 more pairs of gloves and another gown, I stayed out but offered advice. I think one or two comments made a difference in his management. But he otherwise closed the holes as best he could. (I'd say he is king of doing surgery in the dark- not always precise, sometimes potentially causing harm, but probably more people are helped because he isn't afraid to try.) I certainly would have done things differently, but I had no choice but to abdicate my responsibilities and my position as the operator in this case because of my health.
It was as they were closing the bladder and abdominal incision from above that I experienced that unreasonable hope for her. I've heard people say things about their ailing grandparents like, "I know they will go to a better place..." but I've never really FELT that hope and that gratitude for good endings for someone, let alone someone so young. And that phrase- that cliche- didn't capture the peace that came over me. I have no doubt that God will redeem her, that God will completely restore her health when she is in heaven, and that it will truly be a wonderful ending. I may have "failed" to see God's kingdom come here on earth as it is in heaven through a physical healing now, but I have the HOPE, the CERTAINTY, that His Kingdom will come and she will have a new body. And in the meantime, perhaps she experienced a bit of emotional/spiritual healing by the love shown to her by those of us here at the hospital.
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| Pic taken from the OB/GYN ward towards the lab, surgery, and post-op. |
"There are so many problems here: illiteracy, disease, very limited access to medical care and clean water, violence and so on. Honestly, I want to try to fix them all. Although we can attempt to solve these problems, we want so much more for these people then just clean water. Jesus said himself that everyone who drinks physical water will be thirsty again but whoever drinks of the water that he gives “will never be thirsty forever” (John 4:13-14). If this is what Jesus supplies, then is this not a long-term solution to Simon’s water problem? In the same way, even as we are ready to help Simon pay for a surgery, what we really want for him is to get a whole new body that will never pain him again. Every day he walks very far away on a dirt path to his field, and although it would be nice to have a smooth paved road, what we really desire for him is to parade through the clean, gold-laden streets of Heaven forever."
Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give
the reason for the hope that you have. -1 Peter 3:15
I'll end with a second quote from their blog:
"So when you pray for [our fistula patient], pray big. Pray that [she] will be able to have every needed surgery, but do not forget to pray that [she] will get a whole new body. Pray that the Lord will provide [her] daily water, but remember to pray that [she] will follow Christ and never be thirsty again. Do not just pray that [she] will have a nicer house but pray that [she] will live in a mansion made for [her] by Jesus. Pray [she] will not spend [her] days worrying about what [she] is going to eat, but pray that [she] will seek God and ask God to “worry about” providing for [her]. Let us not just give our neighbors an America here in Africa, let us aim to give them the very Kingdom of God."
http://haretranslation.blogspot.fr/2015/09/how-can-we-best-love-poor.html#links
