Just another day..

Just a normal day in the Academy: Finish getting reports out for the first quarter then a round of interviews for the teachers after school. This is normal, right?

A Screening full of Emotion

It's been over five weeks since Mercy Ships' patient screening day. It's the biggest single event the Ship coordinates for a field service. Potential patients line up for hours, often overnight, having come from as near as down the street and as far as hundreds of miles upcountry. Now that we're into the swing of the field service, with surgeries taking place every day, screening day seems in some ways a distant memory.

I was asked to assist the Team Leader, Deb Louden, in the history-taking area of screening. From 8 AM to 6PM eighteen nurses took down the surgical and medical histories, as well as vital signs, for thousands of potential patients. It was hard, hot, long work. Every time you looked up there were hundreds more in the sitting area, patiently waiting to be seen. More than once it felt completely overwhelming. As assistant team leader I split my time between taking patient histories and circulating as a support to the nurses who were, as well as making sure there was good patient flow through our area. I answered a lot of questions, scheduled breaks, kept upper management appraised of our flow and personnel needs. Though we were working hard all day, there was a fair amount of time to reflect and take in what was going on around me. The queue outside was immense and, at times, slightly unruly as the day became hot.
More than once that day tears sprang to my eyes looking at those who were sitting in our waiting chairs. They had made it through the initial screening. Would we be able to offer them surgery, or would we have to turn them away? Was all their travel, their time, and their anticipation for nothing? Or could the team onboard the ship help them in their sickness? It was almost too much for me to look at those I knew we couldn't help. I wasn't brave enough to face their inevitable disappointment. But even in my weakness, I could feel the grace of God in me, looking at each one, smiling encouragement. The heartache and years of shame represented in that waiting area was more than any human can stand. But by God's grace each one of us there was able to reach out God's hand of love and of hope, whether or not healing was possible, to each Guinean who came through our door. In my humanity it was hard to look at babies so malnourished they had little chance at life, or faces so contorted by tumor they were unrecognizable as human. But in such a real way, Jesus was there, helping us to tell each that he or she was precious.
At the same time, it felt unbelievably good offering something concrete; to say to somebody "yes, we have specialist doctors who can help you". Knowing so many would get the surgery they so desperately needed was tangibly exciting. The place was a buzz with possibility. There was unspeakable joy and unspeakable heartache all mixed up into one long day.
It stretched us all. As many things are in life, it was difficult and it was amazing.