Daily Miracles

Last week was our first week of surgeries here in Liberia (finally!) and it’s been amazing! Some highlights:

We’ve started eye surgeries again, which had stopped by the time I joined the Ghana outreach so they’re new for me. They make us very busy in the Sterilizing Room, but they’re fun to watch. We do mostly cataract removals, which are just a short 20-30 minute operation, allowing us to see 8-10 or more patients per day. There’s nothing quite like watching someone walk into the OR completely blind, being led by both hands, and walk out less than an hour later with an eye patch indicating that they’ll be able to see again later that day. I got to watch one of the surgeries, and the patient was squirming a bit (as would I, if I had never seen a hospital before and all of a sudden I was strapped to an operating table with someone stabbing me in the eye) so I held her hand throughout. When Dr. Glen finished removing the cataract in one eye and inserting a prosthetic lens, she could already see his two fingers held in front of her – the first thing she had seen in years. She left praising God for her sight.

Many of our current patients are from up north in a region called Maryland. These patients were actually flown in on a Red Cross plane because transportation is either too difficult, too expensive or both. My own ‘adopted’ patient is named Esther, a shy teenager from Maryland with a large tumor that has been growing on her right eye for 3 years, claiming her sight just two months ago. She had surgery to remove the tumor and insert a prosthetic eye, not restoring her sight but giving her a normal face again at that oh-so-painful age of 16 – I would imagine the problems of adolescence transcend most cultural barriers, and my heart goes out to her for having had to deal with disfiguration in addition to rampant hormonal mood swings.

And now for the tearjerker: One of the patients onboard is an older man from Monrovia who was separated from his daughter 18 years ago due to the war when she was forced to flee outside the city. They had no contact during that time, so he didn’t know that she had married and given birth to several grandchildren. She recently was able to return t Monrovia, and found a cousin who had heard that the father was coming to the Anastasis for a surgery. She came to the port to find him, and the nurses working on the ship’s ward were privileged to witness their reunion here – after 18 years!

I feel so blessed to be here and to be a part of writing these stories, and I want to thank you all for being a part of it too. It’s amazing to think that behind every one of the 300 people working on this ship is a network of families, churches and friends supporting them with their encouragement, prayers and finances. It wouldn’t be possible without you!