One of the best parts of the job is being out with people in their own environments, in their homes and neighborhoods. When we visit a patient/family, we go to their house and we usually sit out on their front porch or lawn or whatever they have in front of their house and we talk. There are always so many people around especially children. We visited a family today and there were 17 children sitting with us on the porch and almost all of them lived in the house. Here is a picture of them with our translator Jerry.
We currently have ten patients and four families of patients who have passed away that we visit, usually at least once a week. Some we visit multiple times a week if they need nursing care or if a patient is in the final stages of dying. Fortunately, none of the patients I have seen are in that final stage.
I am going to write about my patients but will leave out many details because I want to make sure I tell their stories without compromising their dignity. But my prayer is that as I write you get a sense of who they are and what their life is like and that you would pray for them and their families as you read.
Today, we started with a visit to the family of Korto. Korto was a three year old little girl who passed away just last week so I never got to meet her. She had retinoblastoma which is a childhood cancer of the eye(s). In the U.S., there are about 350 new cases of this cancer each year and the death rate is 5%. No one knows how many cases there are in Liberia but 4 of our original 22 patients have this. The death rate in Liberia for this cancer is 100%. There is no cancer treatment in Liberia.
Here is a picture of Korto's house. We hung out on this front porch with a million kids and lots of chickens.
We didn't get to talk to Korto's mother today as she was at the market selling her goods. There's no time off from work here to mourn the death of your child. Korto's grandma was home with all those children in the first picture as well as a few of her daughters and sons and sisters (there are so many people you can't keep track). Granny is an amazing woman. She was the primary caretaker for Korto as well as most of these children.
Here's a picture of some of the family. Left to right: Pastor, Korto's mom, Korto on her lap, Oumaru and Granny.
When asked how the family was doing, they say 'we are trying.' I interpret that to mean 'we are sad but moving forward.' I hope that's what it means - they won't talk about death or grief so that is all they will say - 'we are trying.' Nothing more. So we talk about other things.
Last week, during the final stages of Korto's death, Granny became a Christian. Her entire family is Christian (her brother is even a pastor which is why the one little boy is named Pastor) but she was a Muslim until last week. Today, she was joy-filled over this. She was excited to tell us about her new church and how they welcomed her. She was adamant that we know how much her heart has changed in the last week, even in the wake of grief. She said she has so much peace and love in her heart. And she was forgiven - over and over she kept saying this. Her family, obviously, is ecstatic.
Granny is unable to read or write but starting this week, she has been accepted into a literacy program so she is going to learn. I'm guessing she is in her 50s and she is thrilled with this opportunity. Fortunately, she understands the importance of education and all of the children in her household are going to school. Mercy Ships has helped by paying the registration fee for all of Korto's siblings. School in Liberia isn't free - that's why most of the children are not in school.
Since Jean and Granny were doing most of the talking, I was free to sit and watch and pray. I wish I could put into words what it felt like to be on that porch but I'm not sure I can. It felt like pure peace and true relationships. I was envisioning Jesus interacting with all of us and I could see his love for this family. I am absolutely confident that Korto is living in the embrace of Jesus right now.
Tomorrow, I will tell you about Candy, an 11year old girl from Cote D'Ivoire, also with retinoblastoma.
Peace,
Michele
No comments:
Post a Comment