Just Overwhelmed

Some days I feel so utterly overwhelmed. 

This is one of those days.

Our family leaves Kibogora in 21 days, and our “to do” list for before we leave, and for the super brief time we’ll be home, feels too, too, too long. 

But that’s not why I’m overwhelmed.

We need to pack up the house so it can be rented while we’re gone, and decide what to bring home with us.

We need to finalize our airplane tickets, our doctor's appointments and about 30 other things.

But that’s not why I’m overwhelmed, either.

The intake room.  At least they do have a TV in this room
with a DVD player.  They show a Rwandan choir singing
beautiful music by Lake Kivu on a repeating loop.    

I’m overwhelmed because I went down to the hospital twice to see Tim today.  The hospital is understaffed worse than they usually are, and many more patients than usual pack out the wards.  I counted four beds in the men’s surgery ward with two grown men sleeping in them, and three in the women and children’s ward.  A guard brought in two extra benches for patients to sit on as they waited for Tim to see them.  They line the wall in the operating room waiting area and wait and wait for hours.  Grandmothers, mothers with toddlers, middle aged men, young men, young girls with their sisters, they all wait patiently, in various amounts of pain, with a multitude of injuries or illness, hoping Muganga Tim will be able to see them today.  Every day, he has to turn so many more away than the ones he sees.  It saddens me to hear about them when he comes home, but seeing them? 

Waiting. 

It overwhelms me.

A feeble, short, bent over elderly woman waited for him today.  She braced a fall two weeks ago with her arms, and broke both her wrists and forearms.  Two weeks ago.  She didn't come to the hospital until now because she didn't have the money.  Can you imagine anyone in the US just "living" with the pain of broken wrists and arms for two weeks?  Without even an ibuprofen?  

Waiting, and waiting, and waiting. 

Now that she finally came, the bones in her twisted arms and hands may have settled so much into their new position that it may not be possible to make them right again.

What a classic little boy.  Could his cast
be any dirtier? :) 

A young 13 year old boy, a friend of Sam’s, broke his ankle two months ago, and the bone became infected.  He has remained on antibiotics ever since, but the infection stubbornly keeps returning.    

Tim's colleagues - they make a great team in the OR.  

An older man broke his arm, and Tim had to give him Ketamine to sedate him enough to set it.  Sometimes, rarely, people have difficulty breathing after sedation with Ketamine, and this happened with this man.  I was in the room when his oxygen saturation went to zero.  Three times.  I nearly had a heart attack as I sat helplessly, praying in the corner of the room on a stool, watching with horror as Tim and the nurse tried to get the man breathing again.  They hollered his name into his ear, pounded on his chest, rolled him to his side (made him worse), slapped his arms and legs and belly, tried many things – and finally, FINALLY, he took a big breath again and all was well.  I nearly had a heart attack during the whole scene, but Tim and the nurse seemed almost non-plussed by it all. I walked through the waiting area for the clinic, and saw about 200 discouraged souls just waiting, hoping to be seen by "Muganga Tim".

Tim and a coworker - cutting up and having some fun during a much needed tea break.  

Everywhere I look, it seems someone needs help.  And there are just so many people.  And they all need Tim.  And I can’t help him. 

Thankfully, we have some great Congolese doctors and nurses trained in obstetrics, because if Tim was doing births as well, he would never get any other surgery done!  So, I guess everyone doesn’t need Tim.  But it seems that way.  The maternity patients are in a whole other part of the hospital, so I didn’t even see any of them when I visiting. 

More lines....Rwandans are very good at waiting.

I brought tea, cookies and hard boiled eggs down to the nurses and Tim in the OR today, because they couldn’t break for lunch.  Tim texted me later and said, “Tea and cookies = survival.  Thank you.”

I sure wish we had some more doctors and nurses here.  It is just so sad.  All these people deserve to be seen within a reasonable amount of time, and to have beds all to themselves while they recover.  The inequity in this world overwhelms me, and saddens me deeply.  It just isn’t right.  It just isn’t fair.  I know it isn’t what God wants our world to be like.  When I allow my mind to expand beyond this hospital, to consider that there are many more hospitals in much worse shape than ours in the country of Rwanda, and many more in the other countries all throughout Africa, and throughout the world – I once again feel overwhelmed and tired. 

What’s the use?  What difference can we possibly make here?  People will always suffer unfairly, children will die from treatable illnesses, people will go to bed hungry.  And on the other side of the world – heck, even on this side of the world, people like us will live in unbelievable luxury – and that is just the way it is. 

Someone does NOT want to be seen by the doctor! 

I wish there was some consolation now, some happy story to soften the blow of this reality, but there just isn't.  

I thank God that I do have one very solid future consolation, and in that I put my hope.  My Bible teaches me that one day, ONE DAY, all of God’s children will walk on streets of gold (Revelation 21:21), we will live in a mansion prepared for us (John 14:1-3), we will all have enough to eat and drink (21:4,6), we will all have shoes to wear , we will suffer no hardships, no hunger, no tears, no injustice, no illness (21:4-5).  There will be no hatred; only love will remain (1 Cor 13).  We will all be free to worship Jesus day and night (Rev 5:11-13, 7:8-10).  None of the stuff of our mortal selves will tie us down or distract us from that aim anymore. 

And it will all be due to Jesus, the One who made things right by his death on the cross and went ahead of us to heaven to prepare a place for his people.  Our good shepherd will take care of us there, but until then, we remain on this earth, living in this broken place, fighting against, trying to understand, but never, ever accepting injustice.