Both Sides

Thursday was quite the day on B ward. I walked in to see a ward that only two days before was sparsely decorated with patients, nearly full with an noticeably increased noise level. The two little boys in beds 1 and 2 caught my eye first. At two and five years old their cleft lips are a large, very obvious disfigurement which send their teeth jutting out in different directions. Still, no cleft lip can stifle the smile of a child. When they break through the initial uncertainty of having a yovo as a friend, the smile that comes next makes everything ok. All is truly well in the world when you have a child smiling widely at you.
Now you have met Kodjovi and Kokouvi.

In the corner Pascale was already wiggling around at the early hour of 7am. I saw his name on the list days ago and was excited. A three year old getting orthopedic surgery=casts from hips to toes=cute. And there he was in front of me. He stopped wiggling when I (too quickly) approached him. He fought the fear and gave in with a small smile, suspicion still lurking in his black eyes.

The morning progressed, we rounded with the doctors, and then I spotted an excited looking boy tip-toeing around the ward. Koffi has the sweetest little face. He is shy but friendly and if one thing is true it is that he loves his dad. He tip-toes around because his achilles tendons are too short. He is in the OR now getting them fixed.
Then there is little bow legged Bobo. On Tuesday, before his surgery, I played soccer up on the deck with him and another bow-legged patient awaiting surgery. We were teaching them moves to get past each other, but they always resorted to kicking the ball through each others legs. I guess its fair if both play off the other's handicap. Bobo was not too thrilled with us when I was getting ready to leave. Before I left, you could hear him behind a curtain pleading with oooooo oooo, eeee, eeeee's while his nurse tried to help him go the bathroom. He initially smiled at me when I went to him in the morning, until I touched his exposed toes. The look of horror that crossed his face, shocked that I would touch his injured extremity, was too much for me to handle without smiling. Those casts are not fun when you're 6 either.

Next door, A ward is housing our feeding program babies. Francois, the little one I mentioned here before we even arrived, is now big enough to have surgery. He is a bit over 3 kilos and looks like a giant compared to the 4 other babies currently working to get fat. Anne and Anna are 12 day old twins who brought tears to my eyes when I uncovered their tucked-in bodies from the soft blanket they were carefully wrapped in. The night nurse was an advocate for bonnets on all of the babies, and I instantly appreciated her persistence in finding them when I laid my eyes on 5 tiny babies wrapped up with knitted caps on their heads. Anne has bowed legs and now weighs in at 1.9 kilos wearing the smallest casts I have ever seen in my life. Before that she was 1.7kg. God bless that little baby.
The other two are boys, Romeo and Marius. Need I say more? I think not.

It was one of those mornings. Ali and I were teamed up again, this time with my trusty friend orienting me to the world of charge nursing on the good Mercy Ship. We were busy but happy. We had heard news earlier in the morning that one of the little 8 year old girls had an inconclusive SIS test. Here on the ship, we use the term 'SIS' rather then HIV in an effort to protect the patient from the whole ward of listening ears. They were still going to do surgery, and re-test in a few months. The woman a few beds down was not so fortunate. Her test results weren't inconclusive, they were positive. We set up for the counselor to meet with her. Shes only 34, a victim to an unfaithful husband and now a lifelong disease.
Across, in another bed, we got the news that the 14 year old awaiting surgery was pregnant, and only in her first trimester. The counselor was getting her workout, carrying the burden of the news that this little girl had miscarried the year before, at only 13 years old.

After the two women left we sighed the kind of sigh that I have only experienced here. Kodjovi and Koukovi were still giggling in the corner, Koffi was tiptoeing around, shrieking in excitement over the bubbles being blown by a nurse. The babies in A ward were bundled up, safe and secure in the big beds with their mamas.

Life is about balance. I like the up close look I have to life in Africa. Its hard, and sometimes your heart aches a little extra, but that also can make the good moments shine even brighter. Little Koffi came back Friday after his surgery held by his dad with light blue casts on his legs, He slept sweetly for the first few hours back. Kodjovi screamed like only a 2 year old can who is hungry, and mad at everyone involved with doing the surgery on his little face.
Life B ward continues, and we continue to dwell on both sides of joy and heartache.
Thank you, God. Thank you for letting us be a part of this.