The Sunday that wasn’t “a Day of Rest”

Yesterday we woke up expecting a nice relaxing Sunday with an intimate church service, an afternoon nap and perhaps a walk in the rainforest. Our expectations were never realized. I slept in a bit, and after feeding the two inside cats, stepped outside to re-hang some laundry that didn’t dry the day before. I found the outside cat, Mixie, lying at the door, panting. Thinking that she is expecting kittens soon, I assumed she was about to give birth to a litter. Upon closer examination, I discovered that she had been injured by a wild animal, her injuries including a badly broken leg. So, church was postponed in order to look up feline pain medication dosages. But while in the process of researching pain medication, we had a knock on the door…
Sufayo was patiently waiting to speak with us. My heart quickened, thinking that he may be bringing bad news about his sister Yeye, who has TB (more about her later). He must have sensed my anxiety, because he had a really hard time stating his business. When he finally found his tongue, he told us that a woman had come to have her arm bandaged. We discovered that this was the same woman that we had seen a couple times about 2 weeks ago. She had come to us with a badly infected cut on her upper arm. It was already sutured, and she was taking antibiotics, but it was infected all the same. Yesterday, I was glad to see that the swelling had gone down and that our patient was much more comfortable. Since she doesn’t speak French or Baka, but only her tribal language and some Pidgin, we instructed her, in very simple English, how to wash the wound today and told her to come back tomorrow for a dressing change. I hope she understood.
Before she left, our neighbor, Angula came to tell us that his wife had an eye infection. We reminded him that we don’t do medicine on Sundays and told him to wait until our church service was over.
We gave Mixie some aspirin and went back to our little church service. We sang some songs and were in the middle of prayer requests when we heard a knock on the door…
It was Sufayo again, this time with a whole entourage of white people! You have to realize at this point that in our corner of the jungle, one rarely sees white people (except when looking in the mirror of course), so a group of 7-8 white faces was a bit of a surprise. They were French students, in Cameroon to help at a hospital and had come to greet us and see what it was that we were doing among the Baka. They got a brief explanation of our ministry and armed with the knowledge that we were in the middle of a church service, were on their way. It was already half past noon when we finally got the sermon tape going, which was entitled, “Being Willing to be Used by God.” Appropriate. It was a long sermon, so it was 2 pm by the time church was over.
Angula showed up at Reda’s door just after I left, so she was left to tend to the eye infection. She took the opportunity to also check in on a young girl with pneumonia who is visiting from another camp. She and her family have been staying with our next door neighbor for the past 3 days in order to get treatment for her illness. Lendo and Sanda, our neighbors have been very gracious to house the visitors in their 120 square foot “house” in addition to their own grandchildren.
After a quick lunch, we all came together again to tend to the injured kitty. I tried to keep her comfortable and still while Reda tended to her wounds. The boys stood by and helped by holding flailing paws and finding the needed bandages and tape. We got her cleaned up, wounds dressed, and a splint placed on the injured leg. Mixie was a good sport about it all, only trying to give me a few warning bites in the midst of all the painful meowing.
By this time, the afternoon was nearly over. We are blessed with a satellite internet connection, but it is not always reliable and we’ve learned that weekend afternoons are the best time to hook up with the rest of the world. Not wanting to miss that opportunity, we sat down to collect and send emails. I was deep into composing my emails when we realized that darkness would be falling soon and we had not yet visited our young TB patient.
We put the internet time on hold and made the short trek to see Yeye, Sufayo’s 12 year old sister, who is fighting tuberculosis. Yeye has been teetering between life and death for the last 2 ½ months while we have attempted to treat her disease with medications and lots of prayer. We were pleased that, though her condition has been getting steadily worse for the last week, she seemed to have improved ever so slightly yesterday. In addition to our patient and her family, there were also two women at Yeye’s home, strangers visiting from another part of Cameroon. One of the women, attempting to be helpful, I think, spent our entire visit instructing us on how to take care of our patient. We were happy to be able to communicate with the family in Baka, a language the women could not understand or easily interrupt.
Then it was back home to finish up the emails and start on dinner. I was cutting up some potatoes when Noah came to my window to say that a woman had been bitten by a snake…
I found the elderly woman outside, sweating profusely and quite scared. Her foot was already swelling, but she was alert and showing no signs of shock. We did our best to stop the spread of venom by using a constricting elastic bandage and electric shock, but, as we have no antivenin, that was about all we could do. For a couple of hours we monitored her pain level and vital signs, all the while concerned about her bleeding gums, which, we feared, could be a sign that the venom had reached her blood stream. There was no place for her to stay in Lendo and Sanda’s already maxed out house, so we made a place for her and a family member to sleep on our teammate’s vacant front porch.
By this time it was 10:30 pm, and neither Reda nor I had eaten dinner. I was feeling the effects of low blood sugar, so I abandoned the planned scalloped potatoes and invited Reda over for some left-over beef stroganoff. We read about snake bites in a tropical medicine book and discussed our planned action. I slipped off to bed while Reda stopped checked on our patient one more time and gave the family some nighttime instructions.

And so ends the Sunday that was not a day of rest…

Our snake bite victim survived the night, and still looked quite strong this morning, but her granddaughter, who has pneumonia, is not getting better. We were able to find a ride to the nearest hospital for both of them with our friend, Pierre, who stopped in this morning before driving to town.

Fight for Life

I remember little Yeye from several years ago when her mother was still living. A small child with the swollen belly and discolored hair of malnutrition, she was clothed in tattered rags, had a dull look on her face and was perpetually ill with fevers and ear infections. Her mother and infant sister developed TB and the whole family was treated. In a short time, her mother and sister succumbed to the disease. Yeye’s treatment was never finished.

Fast forward eight years. We received word that Yeye was very ill and were asked to go pick her up from the encampment where she has been staying and to bring her back to be with her family. I prepared for the worst and went with my teammate to assess the situation. We returned with a young lady who seemed to be on death’s door.

Yeye, now twelve years old, weighs only 20 kilograms, the same as my teammates’ preschool-age children. Tuberculosis has taken over her small frame. Her heart and lungs are working overtime, fighting to preserve life. Her skin is dry and dusky and her eyes have very little hope left in them. She has no energy to participate in the life that goes on all around her. She looks very much like a walking skeleton.

We’ve been treating Yeye for TB for 2 months now, with no noticeable improvement. We’ve been praying all the while that God would guide us and that He would heal, and we have been surprised to see that she has survived this long in her compromised state.

This week Yeye took a downhill turn. Her breathing, already quite compromised, became even quicker, and it became apparent that she had caught the cold that has been making the rounds of her small little encampment. Her poor little lungs don’t need another assault. Knowing that there is little we can do, we encouraged a good diet and lots of fluids, both of which are very taxing on a family with several other starving children. We decided that we would go see Yeye again half-way through the week.

I awoke this morning with a sinking feeling that Yeye’s condition had worsened still and a burden to pray for her. I told God that I don’t really even know what to pray any more. I’ve prayed for healing, physically and spiritually. I’ve prayed for ease of breathing, for a break from the constant work of each new breath. I’ve prayed that her family will care for her well, feed her nutritious foods and supply her with lots of water. I’ve told God that I don’t understand His ways and that I really cannot expect to understand the thoughts of the One who created all. And I’ve determined to trust Him through it all, even when it makes no earthly sense. This morning I prayed all those prayers again, with weeping and a keen knowledge that Yeye’s life hangs in the balance.

Only a couple hours after that prayer Yeye’s older brother, Sufayo, came with word that Yeye is complaining of pain in her chest and belly, that she is having trouble breathing, and that she is not eating. My heart sunk. I feared, of course, the worst. Could this be Yeye’s last day? Did we really do her any favors by treating her TB and prolonging her suffering? Did she ever see clearly the love of Christ in our efforts to heal her body?

As we prepared the necessary medications, I felt as if our efforts were futile, like I was fighting a raging forest fire with a measly little water gun. But this battle must be fought. We must be faithful to the task put before us.

I would want nothing else but to care for children like Yeye, to show them the love of Christ, to lead them to the one who gives life. But that is perhaps where I feel the most powerless. I long to share with her the love and grace and power of Christ, but I do not have the words. I cannot yet speak the language. I told God today how I want to share His Gospel of hope with Yeye and then my heart cried out, ”Lord, please give me the words!”

Yeye continues to fight weakly for life. Her heart, strained by all the work of recent months, continues to do its job, and her lungs, filled with infectious material, somehow find enough air to keep her alive. But in her eyes I see that she is tired, that she knows death may come soon.

I don’t know what our Sovereign Lord has designed to do with Yeye’s precious life. I know not whether this disease will claim her or if she will be miraculously healed; it will take a miracle. I don’t know if she will become a great warrior for Christ or if she will never know Him. I only know that my Lord is faithful and that I am called to follow His example.