Education full circle

Leading up to Christmas has been difficult.  Shifts are waning in the hospital as the census goes down.  There are substantially fewer people on the ship, as the mass exodus occurred on the 20^th when many crew members left before Christmas. It’s been tough, it doesn’t really feel like Christmas, but there are decorations everywhere.  Sort of feels like we’re limbo.

Last week I worked with our day crew from B ward, all the Malagasy workers that interpret and help in the hospital.  Along with several other nurses, we taught on different subjects relating to our work, in hopes of equipping them with more knowledge and understanding of what we do and why we do it.  The week was fantastic; they gleaned so much from our presentations despite some difficult medical terminology.  In between lectures we sang, danced, played games and got to share our cultures in each of these areas respectively.

They had some awesome shadow puppets for comic relief

On the first day of teaching we went around and said a few things about ourselves and what our favorite experience has been in B ward thus far.  One of our day crew stood and said “I enjoy acting silly and making funny noises for the kids because if I make them smile or laugh, it means they forgot about the pain or itching for just a few moments.”  The nurses all just looked at each other stunned! Who says that stuff?!

This same day crew worker floored me again.  We have a patient in the ward with some developmental delays, nothing diagnosed and he is relatively high functioning, but talking with the crew physician it is unlikely congenital.  His delays could possibly be from trauma as an infant. 

I’ve seen this day crew working with this patient quite often.  Whenever he is on shift, he gravitates toward this child.  Lately, the patient has been having some behavioral outbursts or tantrums, making care challenging.  This worker has turned it up a notch, singing, dancing, holding his hand, playing…etc.  One day at lunch I asked him about why he is so drawn to this one patient- I was also fishing because I had an interest to see how the Malagasy people view the developmentally delayed (Shout out to my JH people!).

B Ward Bearcubs day crew!!

He described how he had met this patient, Norbert, out in the community during screening.  Norbert lives with his grandmother, both his mother and father died several years ago, and now it’s only him and grandma.  Norbert’s story touched him, and he wants to make this time in the hospital as easy as possible for this boy because of everything he’s been through.  He said, “It’s like I’ve adopted him as my son, because I love him like he was my son.”

Tears started welling up in my eyes as this adult Malagasy man was pouring his heart out to me about a boy he barely knew, but felt so much loyalty for. 

The next time I worked in the hospital, Niry was on shift.  The patient had been having some struggles with tantrums and crying loudly, and Niry devoted the whole shift to entertaining this boy.  Nursing care has been very minimal, as surgeries have ended for the year, so day crew and nurses have ample time to play games, sing songs and dance.   I watched as Niry sat at the end of Norbert’s bed, another day crew on the guitar, and dramatically sang a Malagasy love song to Norbert. His theatrics and comical gestures entertained the entire ward, but Niry was only concerned about making this one boy feel special.  It was love in its purest form.

What a beautiful picture to witness when believers of the church use their Spirit-given gifts and talents to further the Kingdom.  Niry does not dwell on what he cannot do for this boy, like give him back his parents or take away his disabilities and challenges, but instead gives him everything he does have, which is love and joy in performing (Niry is an amazing dancer in Madagascar).

It’s easy to get wrapped up in what I don’t have this season: my family, friends from VA, a Christmas tree and a warm fire, peppermint hot chocolate and scarves or my puppy, but then I think about Niry’s example.  When I start to feel sorry for myself, I remember our kids in the wards that don’t get to go home for Christmas, I remember my gift of healing and creativity that enjoys coloring and crafting with these kids, I remember my enjoyment of serving and investing in the people with whom I’m surrounded, I remember the people who are given the bad news that we cannot help them.  It’s a constant temptation to look at the things I don’t have, but Niry provided what it looks like to be called higher.  If my brother can do it, there’s hope for me as well.