Not even close

Three days ago I temporarily switched to working on the wards here on the ship. I had said yes a while back to the switch when a need for a pediatric nurse was brought up for the summer months. Little did I know what was in store. Its hard thinking about not seeing my other patients for the next several weeks.I cringe with the "what ifs" that accompany my line of work in palliative care, then I rest in Gods promise that everyday is His, all of this is part of His plan. He holds each and every patient gently in the palm of His hand, all will be well.

As I got ready for my first shift I felt excitement start creeping into my stomach. I smiled at the familiar feeling. I don't have a doubt in my mind that God made me to be a pediatric nurse. Every fiber of my being is made to love kids, and the fact that I get to be a nurse and work with them full time as a profession, well, that's pretty awesome in my book. I filled up my pockets, slipped my feet into a pair of clogs (a glorious feeling when you haven't done it in 6 months) and made the 1 minute walk to work one floor below my cabin (beats the Boston commute). The girl assigned to orient me was Ali. We both had mischievous looks in our eyes as though we somehow knew it was about to be a fun evening. Ali strives towards excellence in everything she does, her talent and ability evident in her daily life. I am proud to call her my friend. She is one of those 'heart friends' who instantly walks up next to you and remains posted by your side regardless of what you say, do, confess, you name it. Add to that the fact that she also goes bananas over kids and you have quite the duo.


At the change of every shift all of the nurses who are coming and going pray together.
Did you get that?
We pray for each other, for the patients, for the shift. Sorry, I still think that's amazing.
As we walked into 'B' ward I was greeted by Abraham. The drooling maniac of a toddler who belongs to one of the patients on the ward. He wrapped his little arms around my legs and cried out 'mama'. Those who know me reading can tell you this is the exact point when my heart started to swell.
Throughout the shift I found myself in amazement of the patients that surrounded me.
5 month old Maomi, the size of a newborn, steadily gaining ounces and grams after a tumor half her size was removed from her face. Her mama learning step by step the intricate ways of caring for her baby who has been given a new chance at life, but has a long way to go.
Antoinette, a beautiful little girl with a rare case that has eaten away at her face, leaving a disfigured mouth and nose. Her mama crying while removing the ointment and reapplying, a process that is painful physically for Antoinette and emotionally painful for both.
Brightly colored nail polish being applied to women who have had surgery to correct fistulas that left them incontinent and virtual outcasts of society.
Johnnies loosened from playing on all of the little ones, leaving me smiling at every brown bum that scooted past me.
The patter of Abraham's pink feet running around as he cooed and screamed gleefully with anyone willing to play with him.

As the night went on, and I slowly started realizing that I haven't forgotten everything I know in the last 6 months of being away from ward nursing, I settled into all of it.
The electric feel that surrounds me when I'm working, the comfort deep in my soul of holding a baby. The excitement of laughing with a child. The sense of absolute accomplishment when a kid smiles at you for the first time (even if you had to use a balloon as a bartering tool).

I kept kissing Antoinette with an exaggerated 'Muah" sound and after a few minutes had taught her to say "ciao bella" MUAH! Her mama, who had cried just an hour before, beamed when we told her we were saying "bonjour belle" or "hello beautiful" and squeezed my hips with a big 'MUAH'
When Abba came on the iPod mix, the fistula repair ladies started walking the 'catwalk', some holding their catheter bags as they turned and smiled, each one sassier than the last.
I loved every hug, kiss, squeeze (they do a lot of squeezing here, that one is a little harder than the others to get used to). When the mamas started taking out their cell phones and taking pictures of us, Ali and I instantly posed and whispered quickly how our hearts felt like they would explode with happiness. I can't formulate the next sentence in my head without it sounding cheesy, so I'll just come out with it. You could reach out and quite literally feel the love in the air, we were fully immersed in it. Yet, the people, the patients, were only being themselves (which really, I suppose, is the best part)

The next night was more of the same. The nursing felt altogether familiar again as my first patient started throwing up during report. These things always happens during report, ask any nurse you know. Its like patients have some sort of radar or instinctual gut level (no pun intended) reaction to nurses handing over report and all things hit the fan (or my fellow colleagues hands in this case). Things started feeling normal but at the same time so profoundly surreal to me. The wards here are wide open, the beds are all in one room. The kids play together, the parents chat, the translators sing and joke, occasionally picking up a drum or guitar. As I helped one patient, I laughed at a toddler freaking out about his balloon, totally psyched to have it. I charted with a baby on my lap or hip, got kisses every time I passed another one, and laughed out loud when I saw one of the toddlers who split his eye open on a toy wooden dog, still holding on tightly to the tail while his nurse iced his head. Afterall, whats a little blood between friends?
Last night, back on B ward, I had the following conversation with Abraham (obviously nicknamed 'Abe' by me) while he sat on my lap as I flipped through charts. Keep in mind he doesn't talk yet, and I don't speak his language even if he did.

[Abe is sitting, picking at his toes and feet. A little later he casually tries to hand me a little white 'blob' of something]

"Abe, is that a booger, or did that come from your foot?"

[Abe points to his foot, making sure I am seeing that he has a tiny fleck of skin peeling off the bottom.]

This is why I love my job. This is why I love Africa. This is why I love God and thank him for every single day I get to have the privilege of experiencing this life. I am in awe of how fulfilling these last months have been. I can't begin to imagine whats in store.

"The blood in my veins and my heart you invade...The way that I feel and the love in my soul, I thank you my God for letting me know. I am, I'm captivated by you"
-Captivated, Shawn McDonald.

So many things about nursing are the same here. The charts, the tasks, the pukey patients, the energy, the excitement. Simultaneously, its not even remotely close.