A bit about the work

This past week I worked 6 morning shifts (7AM-3PM) in a row. These mornings always begin with a healthy dose of the cereal mix that Charity and I have concocted from corn flakes, oats, dried coconut, raisins, roasted peanuts, cashews, honey, and homemade yogurt. I take a shortcut to walk to work, a small path through the forest that goes behind the hospital, and this takes only 4 minutes or less now that the mornings are cool and I jog to warm up.

First I greet the night staff and then I receive “le transmission” – a report of the patients whom I will be responsible for that day. This could be the patients on the north (24 patients + 16 overflow), the south (27 patients + 16 overflow), or the reception (receiving the patients who are admitted that day). In Canada, as a comparison, it is typical for a nurse to be accountable for about 5 patients on a shift. It used to be that as I walked up the walkway to the pediatric building that the hallway would be lined with overflow patients lying on mats on the floor. Ever since the Minister of Health’s visit a couple of weeks ago that the overflow patients have been moved from the hallway into the rooms. They still lie on mats and the rooms are very crowded now but at least the babies are protected from the cold and it is actually a lot more manageable for the hospital staff.

After the transmission I go into each of the rooms, greeting the parents and announcing “under the arm” in Bariba. At that direction, the parents pull thermometers from the bottom of the sacks stowed under their assigned bed and I place a thermometer under each baby’s armpit. After recording the temperatures, I give antipyretic medication to any babies that have fevers. For any patients that have malnutrition or gastro-enteric diagnoses I weigh them using a scale that I hang from a hook in the ceiling (picture a jolly jumper).

From 8-8:30AM, all of the staff in the ward gather together for a meditation. We sing a few songs, read a Bible passage, and pray. The doctor usually arrives shortly after 8:30AM to visit the patients, although when he doesn’t show up (he may have been called to a more urgent situation) one of the chief nurses must make the rounds instead. I accompany the doctor as he assesses each patient and writes the orders for that day. We are also joined by a pastor, who often acts as a translator as well.

The time after the rounds is busy filling the doctor’s orders, which could take several hours to do. If the babies are dehydrated from vomiting/diarrhea or are malnourished, we insert IV catheters into the veins to run IVs of glucose or we insert naso-gastric tubes (a tube that goes through the nose down the esophagus and directly into the stomach). We feed breast milk to the premature babies through the N-G tubes using syringes. Inserting IV catheters is no easy feat on a baby (the veins are so tiny), especially the African babies because the skin is darker and thicker. There are many times when we must poke the baby in each hand, each foot, and finally the head before we successfully access a vein. It is very painful for the baby but it is necessary to be able to give medications or blood transfusions. Often it is up to the nurses to decide if the baby requires an N-G tube or an IV. In order to decipher whether the baby has vomited or had diarrhea recently I have learned these words in the Bariba and Peuhl languages. As I may have mentioned before, my attempts at these languages often make the parents laugh, so we share a light-hearted moment, and then a kind mother from across the room offers to translate. If I have to call a baby’s name, something similar to the game “Telephone” commences as parents begin repeating the name from room to room. Actually, my preferred language here is “hand language” but I’ve also learned that a lot of the signs that might seem intuitive to us are not the same here!

A shift rarely passes without the death of at least one baby. The cultural reaction to death is so stoic that one can almost be oblivious to its occurrence. The child is wrapped in fabric, the parents are handed the bill, and then they leave to bury the body at home or in the cemetery behind the hospital (it is often too expensive to take the body home since the parents must pay for an entire taxi unto themselves because no one would want to ride along with a dead body). An occasional loud outburst of grief from a mother is a somber reminder that the death of one’s child is absolutely devastating. When the parents bring their children to us, it is usually as a last resort, and it is disheartening when everything we try fails to restore health. The following verse has become meaningful to me.

Every day we experience something of the death of Jesus, so that we may also know the power of the life of Jesus in these bodies of ours. 2 Corinthians 4:10

While I don’t think this verse is necessarily referring to physical deaths, I think it does help to explain what has been happening in my heart as I’ve been reminded to turn my focus to the things that have eternal value. Death is a terrible fact of life, but it is also possible to turn these encounters with death towards LIFE. Each moment of my life I can consciously choose to LIVE in the power of God. As my own life intersects with my patients’ lives there are many precious opportunities to share the LIFE I have in Christ with them too. LIFE IN CHRIST. That is what lasts for eternity.

Please pray:

-          For the staff in the pediatric ward, many of whom are fatigued and discouraged

-          That I would be an encourager, especially to the female staff

-          For the parents of the patients, that they would come to know the Lord through the hospital ministry and for the pastors who work at the hospital

-          For boldness to grab a translator and pray with the parents

-          For the leaders at the hospital who are preparing to make big decisions about staffing changes that will happen in the new year