by JAMES APPEL
The sun beats fiercely from the brilliant blue sky as we make our way along the well-worn path toward the river. The path disappears into a flooded rice field. Removing our sandals, we wade into the warm water.
Occasionally we pass locals and greet them with a friendly "lapia." When we arrive at the river, the half-naked children quickly leave their fishing spears to watch the foreigners swim.
The sun sets as we make our way back across the rice paddies, tired but refreshed. A little recreation helps us focus on the difficult tasks we face working in the mission hospital in Bere, Chad.
One morning a baby is brought in with a severe infection in her lower abdomen and legs. Antibiotics fight the infection, and I remove large patches of dead black skin to save the child's life. Later that day, Sarah, one of our mission nurses, reports that the baby is unconscious. I rush to her and find she is not breathing. Desperately I perform CPR, but it is too late; the child is dead. Sarah is devastated, thinking that somehow the child's death is her fault. But I blame myself. If I had checked on her more often, maybe I could have saved her. We see death all the time, but this child's death troubles me deeply.
A young woman comes in with abdominal pain. The nurse suggests a urinary tract infection; I suspect appendicitis. She says she is not pregnant, but I wonder. A pelvic exam suggests an infection of the uterus or fallopian tubes. I wish I had an ultrasound that could identify the source of infection. I put her on antibiotics.
That evening the staff wants to go to the river. I do too. But I stay behind to check on the woman. She is worse. I ask more questions and search the medical books. A urine test reveals she is pregnant. If it is an ectopic (out of uterus) pregnancy, only surgery will save her life. But if I am wrong, she has undergone major surgery for nothing. I pray, then I decide to operate. I find a swollen mass that is about to rupture. I thank God for revealing her problem, even without proper equipment.
What if I'd gone to the river instead of staying with this woman? How does one find balance in a world so overwhelmed with the never-ending needs of a place like Bere?
Your weekly Sabbath School mission offerings make ministry such as that at the outpost hospital in Bere, Chad, possible.
From: http://www.ssnet.org/qrtrly/eng/06a/less06.html
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