shanksteps 112

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Shanksteps 112
Another Miracle!!! I saw her when I got back from a trip to Maroua to buy saline. I got back and the nurse asked me to see a patient that had come in during the day. She had been “sick” for four months. She had been to numerous health centers and other hospitals, and had been given antibiotics and nothing was getting better. I couldn’t talk to her because no one spoke her language. She was about 50 and was with two other old women and one young man. He tried to communicate to me in English
or French. “De troat worry her all de time!” “Do you mean it hurts her?” I ask. “No it worry her big.” I assume he does, in fact, mean pain, based on what I hear from other Nigerians. “She take soup and no go down.” I switch to French hoping it will be better. His answers are either not what I was asking or the proverbial “Yes!” When all answers are YES I know they have no idea of what I’m talking about. The nurse with me cannot talk to them either. They say a few words in English, and
he appears to understand their English better than mine. The information I get after much back and forth is that she drank soup and something stuck in her throat 4 months ago and now she cannot even swallow water, due to this, she has lost a lot of weight.
The next morning I find out the real story with another visitor who really does speak enough English; She ate some sauce with meat in it and a bone got stuck in her throat… or so she thinks. Four months with a bone is quite unlikely but it seems anything is possible here, so I do a laryngoscopy and attempt an upper endoscopy. I find an inflammatory mass or tissue just behind the larynx in the esophagus and I attempt to dilate this unsuccessfully. I probe it for any hint of a hard structure
(bone) in it without results. After working an hour and attempting to pass the Gastroscope I give up and decide either she has inflammation around a retained bone I cannot find or esophageal cancer. I also think of a slight possibility of TB but after reading some text books I find no indication of this in the esophagus.
I tell the family that I did not find a bone and that she likely has esophageal cancer and that if they have “money” maybe she could see an ENT specialist in Garoua or Yaoundé. They apparently do have money and agree to go, but not for another week, they are busy with other things in Kousseri. She is very dehydrated so I decide to put in a gastrostomy tube. I thought I had one somewhere but can’t find it. So I put a large Foley (urine) catheter surgically into the stomach through the abdominal
wall and I tie a plastic piece on top to keep the balloon up against the abdominal wall. She is severely dehydrated and the normal glistening intestines are not really damp and stick to each other because of lack of fluid. I decide to start her on local porridge and TB meds.
The next morning I remember I have NOT prayed for her at her bedside like I try to do, especially with the patients I feel I have nothing to offer them. So I pray with and for her, asking God to heal her in a way that He is glorified, and that it’s obvious what He has done.
The following morning they ask if she can have some water and I say sure, knowing that I have not rectified anything in her neck and that it will be the same as before. They inform me that she is swallowing water in small quantities and the next day, she is taking lots of water. The following day she is drinking porridge and taking meds orally, then, today she was taking normal food, sauce, boule, and meat! I have nothing to say but to praise our Creator for His healing of this woman right before
our eyes. We serve an awesome God, who loves us more than our families and friends. He is worthy of our praise! Thank you God! Greg

Shanksteps #114

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He was about 2 years old and breathing hard, but appeared to be the size of a 9 month old baby.  His palms and the soles of his feet were white as was his conjunctiva. His hair was reddish brown and rather straight.  His skin hung in folds around his bones. After much badgering the father finally went to give blood.  At first he refused saying that he was to weak.  He was “sick”, didn’t feel well.  The child’s mother was obviously pregnant near term again.  Having already dealt with some difficult
patients that morning I wasn’t about to have another man not give blood for his child.  I informed him that he was truly “weaker” than all the women in the room. They could loose blood every month and work hard in the fields, have malaria and deliver babies.  But he couldn’t even loose 200cc’s of blood once in his life. Well this time it paid off, he chose to give. (I still haven’t decided wether  that’s the best way to deal with these ignorant fathers, but it is sometimes more effective than begging
and pleading, ?Christian tactic- I doubt it).  So he went off to give blood.  I put him on oxygen while he waits for blood.  The one next to him is also breathing badly, unconscious and has a bulging fontanelle. The nurse gives the antibiotics I order and I prepare to do a lumbar puncture.  When I come back with the things I see that he has already stopped breathing.  I bag him for a while, his heart is still going.  He starts to breath on his own.  He is keeping up his oxygen on his own at the moment.
Another one unconscious comes in to the ER and I look that child over before doing the lumbar puncture on the first.  By the time I come back his pupils are not moving any longer and he has just stopped breathing again.  I decide to not do more for him but take the lumbar puncture anyway to see what bacteria can be found (at the reference lab in Garoua), so that if an outbreak of meningitis happens, I might be better prepared.  I am very discouraged by the sick kids that have come in the last few
days.   Six have died in the hospital in the last 3 days.  Two with meningitis, one child with severe burns, neonatal infection, a teenager with a throat infection after his uvula being cut, and a 19 year old with hepatitis.

It is very discouraging to have so many deaths in the hospital.  we are praying that someday we will have enough faith that we could have a hospital of prayer and miraculous healing.  Pray that we have faith and that we have wisdom for each patient that we see that we know what’s best to do in our circumstances. Greg

Shanksteps 111- What’s in a name?

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Shanksteps – What’s in a name?
I found out the other day that Koza was actually named by a Westerner.  The area all around Koza is mountainous and rocky.  As the story goes, a white man came to this area and pointed to a stone and asked what the Mafa people called it.  They responded, “Kwa.”  Then he pointed to a different stone and asked what that was called. The response was, “Kwa za’a.” meaning another stone. Thus the name Koza was born; simple yet descriptive.
The Muslims here have a few names that are used over and over, such as Aissatou, Fadimatou, or Djaratou for girls; and Amadou or Ibrahim for boys.  I have asked what these names mean, but most just say they are names that they like, are Biblical, or have family members with those names.
If you are a female Christian, most likely your name is Marie. Most of the male Christians have a Mafa name, and a given Christian name like Esaie (Isaiah), Jacques (James), or Jean (John). Unlike other African countries, we don’t see many with names like Joy, Peace, and Patience.
Traditional names almost always have a story behind them. Usually a child is named for what the mother experienced during pregnancy or childbirth.  Often the family will wait for a week or longer before giving a child a name – in case they don’t survive.  One of our nurses tells the story of his name.  Apparently when he was born, he was very small and his father didn’t really want to keep him.  His grandmother rescued him from neglect, and he was given the name Kaotem, meaning “neglected”. Or perhaps
you would like the name Tchougui, which means “irritates the home”.  When I first saw a number of children with the name Bonné, I thought, “That’s nice, they named him/her beautiful.”  Then I found out one day that Bonné in Mafa means “suffering”; possibly named for the experience of childbirth.  Or you could be named Guymatakon meaning “the one who causes suffering”.  In fact, the Mafa tribe used to be called Matakon, which in their language means sickness or suffering. There are in fact many men
here named Matakon.  The name Kaldoussa means “thrown out”.  Dougdje is the name of one of our cleaners; his name means “garbage”.  I think that ZaÏna is a pretty name, but I wouldn’t want to name my child “lost”.  I definitely wouldn’t want to go through life with the name Viché, which means “enter into the ground”.
I guess all of these people are in good company though.  A man in the Bible named Jabez, which means “Child of my pain”, found favor with God.  Jabez called out to God in prayer, asking God to bless him, enlarge his territory, and keep him from pain. “And God granted his request.” (1Chron 4:9, 10).
May we never forget that despite the situation we grew up with, or the name we were given, that God can bless us, and do so abundantly.
In His Mighty Grasp, Audrey