Pause.

Fistula surgeries are already finishing, which just flew by! We have been so busy at work on B ward with our ladies. There has been the usual business, but we have had added unexpected issues with bleeding and other illnesses more here than in past locations. Keeps us on our toes. Needless to say, a shift can go by very quickly. I am ashamed to admit, but the problem with that is I can just get so caught up in completing all of my tasks that I forget to fully interact and love on the ladies. I feel like I am too busy to make a bracelet with them, or have a dance party down the hallways, or sit and chat with them. I feel like I am too busy to pause and take it all in. This is a lie and having recognized it, I have been working hard to not let my busy shifts keep me from truly seeing and celebrating what is happening in this hospital. Pausing. Looking around. It transforms the room, transforms my perspective. Fills my heart with gratitude.

I have written previous blog posts about these ladies, so I just want to tell a few little stories about them instead of describing what fistulas are. If you are reading for the first time, you can click here and also scroll through my old blog posts... there are a few in there :)

I had a patient this week who had a VVF repair. She came in last week for surgery and I got to take care of her the day of her surgery and educate her about what to expect from the surgery and afterwards on the ward. She was very quiet and reserved, as many ladies are... no doubt nervous about the surgery and also still unsure about this new environment and the people taking care of her.  I somehow convinced her to come on a walk in the hallways with the other patients who had already had their surgeries. I saw a smile slowly spread across her face and was hooked. She smiles and her whole face lights up, her eyes beaming, revealing a slightly toothless and altogether beautiful smile. She is so precious. Needless to say, I came back the next day to find she was unable to have her surgery that day due to anesthesia problems, but later she did have her surgery and is now on the ward recovering, and up to this point, she is DRY! No longer leaking urine. And still smiling that genuine, loving smile. She called me over to her bed the other day, removed a bracelet she had made from her wrist, and gave it to me. I was so touched, I quickly slipped it on and repeatedly said "Misaotra betsaka! Tsara be! Misaotra!" (Thank you very much, very good, thanks!) She continued to beam and was just so happy to be gifting me with something.  Pause. Realization... this woman has very little to her name. She has minimal possessions. And she gave one of the only things she has, to me. It may seem small, but this small gift is one of the biggest I have received. It was given from the heart and symbolizes the huge amount of love that she pours out to others and to this world. She is such a gift and I am just so blessed to know her and get to be one tiny piece of her journey. Pause. Remember. Be thankful.

One other story from a couple of weeks ago:
On my routine discharge teaching for my patient, I went through all of the medications with her, which she quickly understood and repeated back to me. I told her how to take care of her incision and she replied appropriately.  I told her all of our instructions... don't lift heavy objects, have others carry water for you, chop vegetables sitting not squatting, eat lots of fruits and vegetables, drink 2-3 liters of water a day, other activity restrictions... she completely understood and happily repeated back to me. Then I told her, OK, you can get dressed, the Hope Center driver will be here to pick you up after lunch.  I turned to start my next task as I was having a busy day. But I sensed some hesitation. She said something quietly to the day crew who was translating for me. I asked what was wrong.  "She says she only has one outfit which she wore here and is dirty. She could not bring any other clothes because her family cast her out. She had to sneak out to get here." ... Oh. Pause. A quick reminder that I am never too busy to pause. Never too busy to look someone in the eye. To hug them. To pray with them. To tell them how loved they are. Right, let me see what we can do. I spoke with our chaplaincy team who started searching for clothes, but were struggling to find any because the patient was so small. The nurses I was working with all started offering up items of clothing we could give her, but they would be too big.  Chaplaincy finally came back with some clothes, they said some were for children because of the size. She got a pair of pants, a couple shirts, and a dress.  Later, she put her dress on and it fit perfectly. It was so pretty! All of the nurses started doting on her, telling her how beautiful she looked and how much we loved her dress. She shyly smiled and laughed and her face lit up.  Pause. These are the moments. These are the moments where I need to pause. Take a deep breath. And never forget.

As these last few weeks are winding down, as the hospital starts to empty and the last patients have their surgeries, I need this reminder. I need to remember to pause, to take it all in. All of the beauty, all of the love, all of the miracles happening around me. This is a very special place, I have not encountered anything like it, and probably never will again.