Waiting…

It's 5:00pm on a Sunday afternoon and I am on the floor. I have at my charge 2 clinical patients and 1 post-surgical. One of the three is giving me a run for my money. His O2Sat keeps dipping and I am forced to check on him every 15 minutes to make sure nothing worse happens. I have tried taking him off of oxygen two times, but apparently he literally can't live without it. By 5pm he has started to stabilize and I finally have a moment to breathe.

As is my custom, I move over to the side window of the Nurse's station from which I can see out into the main courtyard of the hospital. I see people arriving. I keenly observe them, trying to figure out what their emergency could be - because I am also in charge of the ER during my shift. They are carrying brimming feed sacks, like those 25kg ones filled with chicken feed, and travel bags. At this point it's only two of them and they don't seem to be in a hurry to get medical attention. In fact, they head over the the waiting area, put down their bags, and proceed to prepare tereré (a national communal tea prepared with loose-leaf herbs and drunk through a metal, filtered straw). I am about to go out to them to see if there is anything I can help them with, when the hospital guard walks into my Station. I simply ask him about the new arrivals.

"They are here for tomorrow. They've taken a number and are going to wait their turn for the morning consultation hours. Some of them have been traveling all day to get here."

I had heard about patients such as these, but hadn't had the opportunity to see them for myself.  For some reason, I had stored these stories in a mental box of ancient history. It's one of those stories that is told in churches about how things were in the "old days" when people would walk for kilometers and travel cross-country to make it to the mission hospital; arriving bedraggled and exhausted. But this was just yesterday evening, May 25, 2015. The "old days" were staring me in the eye.

Lost in thought, I don't immediately notice the on-call Doctor walk in. He walks up behind me next to the window to see what I am looking at and looks at me quizzically.

"Why do they come so early?" I ask him. The question is basic, but my interest drives deeper. He doesn't disappoint me with his straightforward answer. I insist.

"It costs 60.000 ($12US) for an ER consult at the hospital and 40.000 ($8US) for normal hours. Why would they go through all this inconvenience and discomfort just for 20.000 ($4US)? Why not just pay the extra and go home?"

I can see the doctor's gaze glaze over and can sense a long answer is being processed. Thus, I take a seat.

"This hospital is well-known to a lot of people. The efforts of those who came before us, going out deep into the interior of the country, seeking out patients and offering them hope and healing has poured over into today. These simple people have heard the success stories from their neighbors, uncles, aunts, friends, friends of friends of how they came to km81 and were healed. Many of them have been screwed over so many times by their local health services and are tired of it all. They are willing to travel for days just to get treated fairly and by good doctors who will fix them up. I have heard it said by humble people (el campesino) that the eucalyptus trees that line the entrance of this hospital filter the evil and sickness. Just by entering this place, your healing begins. Then they get here to us and are received with such enthusiasm and love and care, and another part of them feels healed. All this happens even before they speak a single word to a doctor! Sometimes we are able to fix their problems, sometimes we aren't. But, nonetheless, we take the time to listen to them and to appreciate them as a whole. Sometimes the patient just wants someone to listen to them. And thus the legacy continues… Getting back to your question: They come because they know that there is hope, blessing and healing at this hospital. And they want that."

I was speechless and so moved by his words. I could literally feel God's invisible presence stroking my arm encouragingly as if saying, "I am here. These are my people. This is MY work."

I didn't want to forget this moment and so I stood up, left the Station and inconspicuously put my cell phone on camera mode.

There they are. 

Some of them are sleeping already, while others sit around chatting. All of them waiting... to receive hope, blessing and healing. 

I just gotta say that I love being a part of it all  <3 p="">

Workshop: Leprosy and Kids

The month of May is our Fundraising Month at Km81. As a part of this effort we go out to some of the 32 churches that commitedly support us on a regular basis and give them an overview of the work that is being done. As Pastor and a member of the administration, my husband is often asked to give an update on the hospital. This year was no exception. Although, in addition, one church asked me to talk to the 1st-6th graders in Children's Church about Leprosy and our work here. I jumped at the opportunity! I love our work here and it gives me great joy to share the amazingness of it all.

About 30 kids were present as I shared of the fun activities a kid could enjoy living here at the hospital (as we do): Pony rides, zip lines, fishing, feeding baby calves, etc. But not only are there fun activities, but there is a large building where sick people can go to see a doctor who can fix them up. Our doctors see all kinds of people and all kinds of diseases -- especially Leprosy. I taught them what Leprosy looks like and how it is and is not spread and cured.  We did volunteer  activities where the kids were placed in a situation where they were "crippled" by the consequences of this disease. One child, with socks on his hands had to imitate the loss of fine motor skills and perhaps also digits, needed to close buttons on a shirt. Another needed to serve herself a cup of water and drink it. Yet another needed to write her name on a chalkboard. All these exercises proved difficult and frustrating to all participants. The point was driven home… Many of those who go undiagnosed with Leprosy face the consequences of not having the medication that cures them and therefore are prone to accidents, due to loss of sensitivity. These consequences make life more difficult to some because they are no longer able to do menial activities as efficiently as before. With socks on their hands, the kids got a taste of what "different" feels like.

I encouraged and challenged them to be accept and help those who are different than they are -- even those without Leprosy. Their eagerness to learn was humbling. I can only hope that a tiny seed was planted within each one their lives that will bloom into a gorgeous blessing.


In preparation for my presentation, I used the very helpful guides specifically made for children that a German organization that works with Leprosy designed (click here -- in German).

Person of Interest #2: Ken Gibson

The Leprosy Mission Ireland is a worthy cause to support. They work with educating, curing and facilitating reintegration of those affected by Leprosy.

Leprosy is a disease close to my heart, not just because I live and work at a Leprosy Hospital, but because my husband had his own personal experience with this disease 5 years ago (If you are interested in reading of his experience click here). His approach to processing his diagnosis was to write about it in his blog. The post in his blog made its rounds among others who work with similar ministries as our own and eventually resulted in an invitation for him to attend a workshop in Ireland among peers & partners. To say the least, we were honored by the invitation.

In my first entry of this series on people of interest, I briefly touched on my naïve close-mindedness. In the first entry I unintentionally defined a person´s personality based on a preconceived cultural idea I had concerning this person´s Indian heritage. I was about to make a similar mistake with Ken Gibson.

My husband and I are so relieved to finally make it to the hotel where the workshops will be held. These meetings are the main purpose for our transcontinental trip. Since before even purchasing our tickets we have been wowed by TLMs organizational skills and attention to minute details. I (with my preconceived notions) am imagining this efficiency is due to super serious, industrious, incredibly focused office mice who rarely breathe anything that doesn't have to do with the world of Leprosy. I am imagining that the leader of TLM Ireland must be some intimidating, big headed, dictatorial type who directs everything with just a glance.

We are immediately received in the lobby by a friendly looking man with glasses, disheveled hair and a huge grin on his face. He looks like your favorite uncle. He welcomes us, directs us to the check-in counter, and asks for us to meet up later at the bar to chat. We go up to our room, thoroughly impressed by the organization, the hotel and the friendly people. After leaving our luggage, we move back down to the lobby to meet up with Ken. He and two other men are already there. I don't know that Ken is one of these 3 men. From the mood of it all, I assume that these 3 are friendly participants having a good time before sessions open. We talk about the long trip and about how amazed we are by all we have seen. The 3 guys chat about the weather, give us tips on things to check out in town and comment on the upcoming meetings. I feel completely at ease with the bi-specled man and lucky to be a part of the group.

And then the mood takes a serious turn and formal introductions are made. Guy 1: Emcee and facilitator of the sessions. Guy 2: Administrative Assistant. Guy 3: Friendly Glasses Guy: Ken Gibson, CEO of The Leprosy Mission Ireland. Unintelligible words stumble out of my mouth as I am overwhelmed and slightly embarrassed by the fact that I have been "improperly informal" with the man in charge of the entire workshop and his administrative team. I feel like a shoe. ("What does he think of me? He can't think that I am a serious adult after all this joking around!")

I am once again shot down by my squareness. Ken Gibson is a lovely person, filled with energy and passion for his work. He transmits joy and a desire to put one's best foot forward to further the Cause. I feel humbled by the fact that the leaders in the world of Leprosy are as human as I am. They are actually fun to be around :)

Thank you, Ken, for the wonderful impression.

Follow Ken on twitter and check out his Blog to get to know him and TLM Ireland better.