Goodbye for Now

I am leaving Kibogora today. As all goodbyes usually go, it’s a bittersweet moment. Of course I am excited to get back to see my family and friends, wear shorts, drink some Diet Dr. Pepper over crushed ice, go to Starbucks, and eat as much fruit as I want until my heart is content, but the longer I have been here, the more I have grown to love this place and to feel at home. Yesterday we had a final lunch with the surgical staff, and as I looked around the room at the fifteen people there, I realized that these were some of the key reasons why I was sad to leave.  I knew each of their names, from the scrub nurses to the anesthetists to the maintenance staff. They were so warm and welcoming from my first day in the OR, and as we sat around eating lunch, sharing stories and funny cultural differences, I found it very hard to say goodbye.

 

Also, in the past couple weeks I have gotten to know some of the patients very well. Dr. Berg had the brilliant idea of me helping with the physiotherapy for some of the patients. There is a physiotherapy unit at the hospital, but they are usually swamped with many outpatients as well as all of the surgical inpatients, so many patients who need to be doing exercises daily often only are seen about once a week. I started out with about six patients, but after a few were discharged, I ended with four who I worked with several times a day. Marie had a very bad case of necrotizing fasciitis, and it destroyed most of the muscle and other tissue in her leg. She had been in the hospital since April, and was just recently starting to maintain her weight. She was walking with a walker, but she would barely put any weight on her injured foot. My purpose was mainly to encourage her to walk and to force her to put weight on her leg. Basically, I was her cheerleader (literally—I actually did a little chant/dance when I walked with her, which always made her smile).

Beautiful Marie

Samson, another patient of mine, had stage four prostate cancer, which was not realized until after surgery when they saw that it had spread into his colon. When I first saw him last month, he was consistently drenched in urine because his bladder was shred, so instead of draining into the catheter, it was leaking out through any opening, including his sutures from surgery. My heart really went out for him; he seemed so dejected, and he was constantly exposed to everyone. He had the sweetest wife and little girl.  His wife would give him sponge baths and constantly be at his side, and his daughter laughed when I held her (which I loved because many young children are afraid of me). After a month in the ICU bed, he was gaining enough strength to walk, so my job was to support him in walking. This was probably one of my favorite times in the day. We would walk around the hospital, and with a huge smile on his face, Samson would greet just about every person we passed. He would teach me Kinyarwanda, and I would teach him English. He gained enough strength that he will probably be discharged soon. 

Samson and his wife

Marie had a patellar fracture. I had met her during the “prayer rounds” a few weeks before I officially started doing physical therapy with her. [Side note—the prayer rounds are when I go on Sundays to just spend time with the patients and to pray with them. This was something started by another surgeon, Carl Albertson and his wife Francie. I really enjoyed it because one of my good friends translated for me and I was able to communicate well with the patients instead of with random words I knew.]  I learned her sad story—she had given a drink of water to a man who had been working in the fields and was tired, and the man’s wife thought that something was going on, and she hid behind a bush and attacked  Marie when she was walking home and broke her patella. Marie’s biggest prayer request was just go be discharged to go home because had left her baby at home (the village was taking care of her). So when I started working with her, passively flexing her leg to 90 degrees, whenever she complained of pain I just told her, “komera, komera” (the equivalence of be strong)—and knew that the harder that we worked to get her knee functioning, the quicker she would be able to go home.  Obviously, in the states this would be an outpatient PT appointment and no patient would ever be in the hospital for weeks with a broken knee cap, but here, almost every patient is an inpatient because they live far away from the hospital. Anyways, needless to say I was ecstatic when the doctor told me that she could be discharged yesterday! Seeing hard work payoff is such a beautiful thing!

Working with Maria.

Marta had a strange condition—both of her knees were bent up underneath her, stuck like that, so that she could only move around by crawling. For twenty some knees, she had been like that, until she came to Kibogora Hospital and Dr. Albertson had the idea to slowly cast one of her legs in progressions, straightening it over time. He determined which hip was strong enough to support her, and decided to try to work on that leg. By the time I was working with her, the leg was almost straight, and they were trying to work on getting her to hop around with a walker. When I started working with her, the first few times I supported about half of her weight by holding her under her armpits. She soon gained enough confidence to use the walker to get around on her own, and she only needed my help on uneven ground or on stairs. On my last day, we walked past a large group of people waiting in the consultation area, and one woman saw Marta and I walking by and started shouting and screaming “praise God.” I was wondering why she was so hysterical, but then she began acting out to everyone that Marta used to only walk on her knees, and she showed how Martha is now upright and walking almost normally. She could barely recognize Martha. I could tell that Martha was embarrassed, but it was a good embarrassment, because everyone was patting her and giving her a thumbs up and seemed so genuinely happy for her. In a place where handicapped people are often neglected and ignored, I cannot imagine how this change has made an impact on her wellbeing. 

Walking with Marta

Two sweet boys who were both in the hospital for osteomyelitis.

What I have liked the most about doing physical therapy with the patients is seeing how much all of the patients support each other. The hospital truly does become a community. The patients recognize each other’s struggles, they share their troubles, care for each other’s children, share food, and celebrate each other’s successes. Marta, who never before needed shoes because she could not walk, would borrow a sandal from someone else when she wanted to get out of bed. When I walked with Marta, Marie, Maria, and Samson, the other patients and families would give us a thumbs up. Quickly, I learned that “nbiza cyani” means “very good” because the family members and other patients that gathered outside said this to me often as I passed by with a patient.

As I reflect on my trip here, there are many reasons why I loved my time here. I have met many amazing people and formed many lasting friendships with both Rwandans and other missionary families. The Bergs, the reason why I came to Kibogora, are such an amazing couple who have wonderful hearts. The Lands, another family who is here for a year, welcomed me into their home, inviting me to join their family dinners, go on day trips with them, and join their work outs. Stephanie and Regan are such kind, generous people and they have raised three amazing kids. Macy, their fifteen year old, has the wisdom of a 40 year old yet the innocence of a teenager. The Greens were another sweet family who I loved to spend time with. They had a 10 year old, a six year old, and a three year old. It was fun to have kids to play with. I also loved shadowing Joel at the hospital. Paula, his wife, was the sweetest woman and I enjoyed her company greatly. I’m pretty much in love with their entire family.

Valerie, a high school student who was out here to tutor Macy in math, was such an awesome person to be around. She also spent almost every afternoon in the pediatric ward so I was able to see her often. Kim and Beth, two nursing students from the UK, were wonderful as well. Kim was always there to talk with me, share funny stories. She did small things here and there that really meant a lot to me, like preparing chilled coffee for me because she knew my obsession with iced coffee (and then rubbed it in when she returned home to the UK and got to go to Starbucks). Beth taught me my favorite new phrase “I can’t be bothered” and was constantly providing comedic relief. Sherie, a pediatrician who I lived with and shadowed, was someone who I liked and respected immensely. She is very intelligent, kind, and compassionate. She brought all sorts of games and treats for the kids, and you could tell that she cared about each of her patients. I hope to be able to come back and work with her again someday.

Anyways, there is my mini essay to complete my Rwanda blogging series. I am so thankful to have had this experience and that God has continued to open doors for new opportunities and so many wonderful friendships. I have a feeling that this is not my final goodbye to Kibogora.