pain to peace

I wish you all could have been with me today, when we walked into that little house, to see him there, laying in pain. Nursing school 101 burns you out on "pain being the 5th vital sign". I could name you the non-verbal signs of the pain assessment in my sleep. And, if I were to explain this to a novice, I'd have pointed to this patient. Textbook.

 All the clues were there-- facial grimacing, moaning, restlessness. If I had to give it a number, we'd be pushing a 10! (1 being no pain, 10 being the worst imaginable). In America, we'd be calling in the order for morphine and I'd be confident pain relief was on it's way. We did what we could. We re-positioned, we encouraged rest. And then, I thought, he needs a new storyteller (the audio device we use to share Bible stories and songs in the local dialect). Despite the fact that he had destroyed his previous one, this was the time he needed distraction the most. I ran to the car to grab one. We turned it on and as he heard the words of his language, he alerted saying, "where is that, I need it." He reached out his hands, we gave him his player.

My friends, the whole situation changed. He relaxed. His facial expression changed. What was a grimace turned into a relaxed smile. He no longer moaned. He no longer was reaching out for his wife. He had found peace. He held the player in his hand next to his ear. When his edematous hand got tired, he switched to his other swollen hand, never  allowing the hope to be more than a few inches from his ear.  If I were to have to chart his pain now, his number would have significantly dropped. To a 3? A 2? Could I really say that his non-verbals now tell me he's a 1? The evidence proved itself on this visit. We did little but the resources did much. HE did much.

We finished our visit, gathered our things. Headed on our way. I left in awe. A holistic approach-- the beauty of not just thinking about pharmacology! Friends, I wish you could have seen it. The hope and peace was tangible!

Come for a cup of coffee...I'd love to show you the picture or walk with you to see yourself.

Peace.

Tribute: our old friend

"Have you always been this joyful? Laughing so much?"

"Me? Joyful? I never even used to talk to my wife!"

Yes, these are the exact words we heard from this man months after we started caring for him. He became one of our most enjoyable visits. We would laugh, sing and joke together. He held the history of the land in his years. He remembered when the road we drive on did not exist. He helped in clearing the forest to create the road during the colonial days. It then was the main thoroughfare, then after the civil war, the bridge was bombed out and never repaired and now it's our one way dirt track. The dirt track that takes us to these treasured souls.

He was a bit of a medical mystery to us. I'm not sure he'd ever been to a doctor. He'd surely never seen a stethoscope. He reported that his leg had been so swollen and caused him so much pain that he could hardly walk. The pain and body itching kept him up at night. It grieved him, that because of this ailment, he wasn't able to be in the field helping put food on the table for his wife and family. He's one of the few patients that we have that has only one wife. And, once he was feeling better, the joy that they had in the presence of each other was evident. If he was resting, she was shelling her beans near by-- they liked to be together. They loved each other. 

One of the most beautiful things was the simple interventions we were able to do to help improve this man's quality of life. It was impossible for him to get to any sort of health care facility so for us to arrive at his home eager to help was a real blessing for him. And, the response that we saw from giving him calamine lotion, daily Tylenol, Epsom salt soaks for his leg and something to help him sleep at night, turned him into a new man. And fit him back into his old trousers that hadn't fit over his leg in years! Wow!

 Yes, these simple things improved his life but may I share that what REALLY changed him, as a man, was his having his very own audio story-teller. He cherished this bit of God's word and songs of praise. One day when we were visiting and trying to do an interview with him, he wouldn't turn the audio player off. So, in order to get his attention we asked to have the audio player. Well, that didn't work either! He was so concerned that we wouldn't give it back to him that NOW he couldn't concentrate on what we were asking because he wouldn't take his eyes off of his audio player. Yes, he cherished the word of God in his shirt pocket more than life itself. On one visit he was so sad because the cat had knocked the audio player off the roof (while solar recharging) and it no longer worked. He reluctantly let us take it so Chad could repair it. He didn't want to miss a week, a day, of not being able to hear the Word of God! 

We were delighted to be reunited after my 7  months away from Mozambique. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing him, despite a decline, we were pleased at how he was still doing. Laughing and joking with us-- singing and dancing...

...remember when he said he never even used to talk to his wife because he was in so much pain? Praise the Lord!

I took this video last Thursday. I share it because I know he'd be so proud to to have people see it. He was full of joy. As we left last week he said, "Next time you come, I'm going to be dancing on my feet!"

Well, he is right, this week he is dancing on his feet, only he's dancing on golden streets!! Maybe he knew that in a weeks time his body would be healed to fullness and he would be in the presence of His Glory!

We will miss you our old friend. Thank you for all the laughs and all the praises that went up from your home! We praise the Lord as we imagine you dancing on your feet this week! Thanks for sharing your life story with us!

Until...

Tribute 2: a family man

You can tell a lot about an individual from their family.
This patient I only got to see a couple of times upon my return.
From that I learned--
He was a family man.
He cared for and provided for his family.
Many were there, surrounding him on his last day.
Not only were they present out of social obligation but they were present with concern.
And, to see the care and responsibility that his oldest son was already taking on tells me that his father has been his role model, his example, his hero.
This man has obviously worked hard,
on each visit there was produce and harvest busily being prepared and distributed--
not easy horticulture in this desperate land.
After our last visit we didn't know what to pray.
His situation was bleak, his diagnosis grim, not just in Mozambique but it would be anywhere.
What we knew was we didn't want this big, strong man to lose his dignity,
To have to be cared for like a child,
for too long.
We knew this provider would struggle with these changes.
So we prayed, I prayed, asking for mercy and freedom from suffering.
Then, within 36 hours of our last visit, he took his last breath.
To be home with his Father, I pray.
And left in his legacy are his beautiful children,
some being teeny, tiny replicas of this strong, stoic man.
May they not soon forget the care, love and concern their father had for them and their future.
I wish it had been different,
I wish there had been more thorough, wise treatment for this man,
his days weren't meant to be this short--
he had much to teach
and he taught well.
What a privileged it was to know him and to advocate on his behalf.
You are remembered in our hearts.

Tribute: my little guy

To you it may just be a statistic. Besides, what's 1 lost in the mass of 1.1 million who died of AIDS in 2013 (WHO). And, it's far away, they should know better, we have our own problems, whatever it may be that makes you feel separated, far from and really, not connected to problems on the other side of the world. Well, dear friends, I'm here to say, they're not just a number. There's no dignity in regarding a soul as a statistic.  We each have a story to tell. We each have a purpose to share. There are stories that must be heard. Our patients that we care for deserve to be known, they are NOT just a number, far-away....

Tribute #1: MY LITTLE GUY

Born somewhere between 2005 and 2007 he lived with his mother and father. His older brother was there, perhaps others. I'm sure as he learned to walk, he learned to work at the same time. Hauling water, gathering fire wood, cooking over the fire, working in the field. I know he loved his sudza (similar to corn flour grits) and dried fish. I don't know when he started to be sick. Too early though, I know that. I wonder if he ever got to be a kid, carelessly playing, learning, loving life? When I first met him I pegged him at age 4. I was several years off-- blinded by his malnutrition, skinny legs, tumored face and broken soul. By this age he likely had already cared for and watch his mother and father die. And then, finally, grandma was called in-- to step up to care for this critically ill child. She did the best she could despite being sick herself.

Dear friends, he wasn't just a sickly child. That's not his story. He was who wiggled into my heart and the hearts of everyone who got to meet him. He had a tenderness, a gentleness that was paralyzed by a disease that held him back. He was so excited to receive an audio player with Bible stories and songs of faith. Within weeks he had all the songs memorized. And in a few months he was reciting a-long-with the 2 hours of Bible stories-- delighted to hear the word of God in his mother tongue for the first time. His grandma never took him with her to church. He listened to his player so much that within a year the speaker was worn out, we replaced it for him. The thing that grieved me so much about my 2 year involvement in his life was that he wanted his situation to be different. He didn't want to not be able to help his grandmother. He wanted to go to school. He wanted to play with friends. Of course he didn't want to be excluded from other children because he wasn't well. He wanted more than anything for his situation to be different. When asked what we could pray for, he requested, "Please pray that I don't have to take my tablets anymore." I cried with him many times because I too wanted his circumstances to be different.

There were periods when we had glimpses of all that he was meant to be. When he was well enough to be vivacious and full of zeal. Like the time when we came to visit and he was "out" but, as we walked to his house we heard his audio player playing and he came running from behind us. Chad called out, "He's coming from behind you." There he was, chasing us down, winded but ready for his visitors. Or, the time that he saw us walking up to his house and he came out of the veranda chanting, "Sister Dara! Sister Dara!" We would sing, we would dance, we colored and told Bible stories. His million dollar laugh and smile was worth anything that I may have had to sacrifice to be in Mozambique and to start a palliative care program.

We sat with him for hours at the hospital waiting to be attended. We fought to get his cardiac situation checked into. The doctors did all they could. Grandmother did the best she could. He gave us memories and confirmed again and again that yes, this work is worth it, even though it's hard.

I didn't get to see him in his last days. He couldn't hold on until we got back despite asking when Sister Dara was returning. He was fully aware of his situation of injustice until his last breath. The morning before he died he told his grandmother, "Vovo, I'll never live old enough to build you a new house (as would be culturally expected of him)" his was tired of the fight. He passed away a couple hours later.

Our team grieves over this lose. My heart will weep for years because of the love I got to experience for this one. And, may I tell you what a blessing it is that one soul from Remer, Minnesota gets to tell the story of one soul in Cafumpe, Mozambique. Two distant worlds with one loving Father-- caring equally for each of us.

My little guy, I'll see you on the otherside! I'm so glad you're no longer in pain. Tell Jesus we can't wait to be with you both and oh, will we dance!

No, he was not a number.