Two Years Not Wasted
In the middle of Sunday afternoon lunch, my phone rang.
"Hi Ashli," a missionary friend greeted me, "I'm here at the hospital with Mo and he is not looking too good."
Mo is a little eight pound, six month old boy with a heart condition since birth that needs immediate surgical correction that cannot be done in Burkina. My missionary friend has been working hard to jump through all the hoops to get him to the United States as soon as possible. In the meantime, he has been staying at a hospital awaiting his ticket to the States.
On this Sunday afternoon, she went to visit him only to find him ashy, limp, and almost completely unresponsive. Over the telephone, I walked her through a few instructions and started to make my way to the hospital to be at their side.
Mo had actually been fine and stable even with his heart condition until last Friday when he came down with a respiratory infection. With his respiratory function already compromised due to a hole between the ventricles of his heart, a respiratory infection became an emergency. He was referred to a pediatric hospital, but upon arrival they found that the hospital was completely full, so full that children were dying in the waiting room. Without a bed in the pediatric hospital, they took Mo to a clinic that specialized in cardiology but not pediatrics, which was where he was now having this hypoxemic episode. Although the hospital was well equipped for adult cardiology, they just didn't know have the equipment and expertise related to children, especially tiny babies like Mo.
Knowing a private pediatric clinic with a well-trusted doctor, I made a quick phone call to Herndon number stored in my phone asking if she could receive this baby. I then negotiated between both hospitals and doctors and assisted in transferring Mo. We spent the afternoon Sunday and almost all day Monday in getting the exams and medications he needed, making necessary phone calls, making sure the new doctor understood what had been done and what needed to be done, and acquiring medical documents to enable him to get a passport and medical visa to the United States.
You must understand that the medical system here in Burkina is unexplainably different than that in the United States. In the US, doctors and nurses and all medical personnel work together to coordinate the care of the patient. In Burkina, that doesn't exist. The responsibility of coordination belongs to the patient, which means if you don't know how to navigate the system, you won't get proper care. For example, the doctor gives an order for an x-ray, writing it on a piece of paper and handing it to the patient. Now the patient must go find radiology. He must figure out a way to get there if he needs a wheelchair (or if he has to leave the hospital and go to a radiology center). He is responsible to get the X-ray done, then pick up the results at a designated time, then take the results to a radiologist to be interpreted, and then give the interpreted results to his doctor. The same is true for all exams and prescriptions. Getting exams and finding medications often takes multiple trips around time to multiple places just to find what you need. Someone to walk you through the system is critical, even essential.
Complicate the matter by not only trying to navigate the medical system but also organizing a medical evacuation to the United States. Needless to say, Mo's case was not an easy one.
I left Mo's bedside after several hours of multi-tasking as I sought to assess and intervene on behalf of him, advocate for him, get him to the proper clinic with the proper care and ultimately to America, and interpret between French and English using medical terminology. He made it through his little crisis, and I left feeling comfortable that he was admitted to a trustworthy pediatric clinic, hooked up to oxygen with a saturation of 96%, eyes wide open, alert and ready to eat.
I drove home with a realization. The past two years while I was pining over being a bedside nurse, complaining to God and asking him why he was not allowing me to do the kind of nursing that I desire to do in Burkina, he was doing something's behind the scenes. All the medical cases I've helped with, all the doctors I've met, all the clinic visits, pharmacy runs, phone calls, and experiences I've had were teaching me how to work the medical system. Now, two years later, I did something I never could have done when I first arrived. Some people showed me the way, and some of it I just had to figure out on my own the hard way, but thanks to all that, I was able to walk another patient and family through it all. I may not get to be a bedside nurse, but I get to be an advocate - a hand-holder through the complex system, and that is not an insignificant job.
I have learned the importance of connections. How would we have gotten into that pediatric clinic if I didn't I know the doctor personally ad have her phone number? Because of our previous relationship and history, I could ask her politely to write the medical recommendation, and she willingly accepted, which saved us incredible time and multiple headaches.
I have also learned the importance of speaking French. Just being able to speak somewhat intelligibly using some medical terms increased my credibility and reduced frustration and rudeness of the medical staff. It completely changed the dynamics between me and the nurses and doctors.
Of course I learned the importance of advocacy. Without an advocate, the baby could have been dead in the waiting room.
Lastly, I learned the importance of patience. Perhaps the last two years were not wasted like I thought they were. I have been so fearful of forgetting how to be a bedside nurse, but God has been teaching me how to be a care coordinator in a way that only a nurse could do. While I was complaining about what I thought I was missing, God was working on something new. While I wanted to be a bedside nurse, he called me to be an advocate...at least for now. And for the first time, I'm not fighting it.
Sometimes I think we tell God what we want to do for him, but he has other plans in mind. And they are always better. Instead of fighting him and accusing him of stealing something from us, maybe we should just practice acceptance and open our eyes to look for the treasure buried within. I'm so thankful he doesn't let us settle for the lesser things we want; he patiently shapes us and allows us to suffer want until we realize that what he has in store is a thousand time greater.
"Hi Ashli," a missionary friend greeted me, "I'm here at the hospital with Mo and he is not looking too good."
Mo is a little eight pound, six month old boy with a heart condition since birth that needs immediate surgical correction that cannot be done in Burkina. My missionary friend has been working hard to jump through all the hoops to get him to the United States as soon as possible. In the meantime, he has been staying at a hospital awaiting his ticket to the States.
On this Sunday afternoon, she went to visit him only to find him ashy, limp, and almost completely unresponsive. Over the telephone, I walked her through a few instructions and started to make my way to the hospital to be at their side.
Mo had actually been fine and stable even with his heart condition until last Friday when he came down with a respiratory infection. With his respiratory function already compromised due to a hole between the ventricles of his heart, a respiratory infection became an emergency. He was referred to a pediatric hospital, but upon arrival they found that the hospital was completely full, so full that children were dying in the waiting room. Without a bed in the pediatric hospital, they took Mo to a clinic that specialized in cardiology but not pediatrics, which was where he was now having this hypoxemic episode. Although the hospital was well equipped for adult cardiology, they just didn't know have the equipment and expertise related to children, especially tiny babies like Mo.
Knowing a private pediatric clinic with a well-trusted doctor, I made a quick phone call to Herndon number stored in my phone asking if she could receive this baby. I then negotiated between both hospitals and doctors and assisted in transferring Mo. We spent the afternoon Sunday and almost all day Monday in getting the exams and medications he needed, making necessary phone calls, making sure the new doctor understood what had been done and what needed to be done, and acquiring medical documents to enable him to get a passport and medical visa to the United States.
You must understand that the medical system here in Burkina is unexplainably different than that in the United States. In the US, doctors and nurses and all medical personnel work together to coordinate the care of the patient. In Burkina, that doesn't exist. The responsibility of coordination belongs to the patient, which means if you don't know how to navigate the system, you won't get proper care. For example, the doctor gives an order for an x-ray, writing it on a piece of paper and handing it to the patient. Now the patient must go find radiology. He must figure out a way to get there if he needs a wheelchair (or if he has to leave the hospital and go to a radiology center). He is responsible to get the X-ray done, then pick up the results at a designated time, then take the results to a radiologist to be interpreted, and then give the interpreted results to his doctor. The same is true for all exams and prescriptions. Getting exams and finding medications often takes multiple trips around time to multiple places just to find what you need. Someone to walk you through the system is critical, even essential.
Complicate the matter by not only trying to navigate the medical system but also organizing a medical evacuation to the United States. Needless to say, Mo's case was not an easy one.
I left Mo's bedside after several hours of multi-tasking as I sought to assess and intervene on behalf of him, advocate for him, get him to the proper clinic with the proper care and ultimately to America, and interpret between French and English using medical terminology. He made it through his little crisis, and I left feeling comfortable that he was admitted to a trustworthy pediatric clinic, hooked up to oxygen with a saturation of 96%, eyes wide open, alert and ready to eat.
I drove home with a realization. The past two years while I was pining over being a bedside nurse, complaining to God and asking him why he was not allowing me to do the kind of nursing that I desire to do in Burkina, he was doing something's behind the scenes. All the medical cases I've helped with, all the doctors I've met, all the clinic visits, pharmacy runs, phone calls, and experiences I've had were teaching me how to work the medical system. Now, two years later, I did something I never could have done when I first arrived. Some people showed me the way, and some of it I just had to figure out on my own the hard way, but thanks to all that, I was able to walk another patient and family through it all. I may not get to be a bedside nurse, but I get to be an advocate - a hand-holder through the complex system, and that is not an insignificant job.
I have learned the importance of connections. How would we have gotten into that pediatric clinic if I didn't I know the doctor personally ad have her phone number? Because of our previous relationship and history, I could ask her politely to write the medical recommendation, and she willingly accepted, which saved us incredible time and multiple headaches.
I have also learned the importance of speaking French. Just being able to speak somewhat intelligibly using some medical terms increased my credibility and reduced frustration and rudeness of the medical staff. It completely changed the dynamics between me and the nurses and doctors.
Of course I learned the importance of advocacy. Without an advocate, the baby could have been dead in the waiting room.
Lastly, I learned the importance of patience. Perhaps the last two years were not wasted like I thought they were. I have been so fearful of forgetting how to be a bedside nurse, but God has been teaching me how to be a care coordinator in a way that only a nurse could do. While I was complaining about what I thought I was missing, God was working on something new. While I wanted to be a bedside nurse, he called me to be an advocate...at least for now. And for the first time, I'm not fighting it.
Sometimes I think we tell God what we want to do for him, but he has other plans in mind. And they are always better. Instead of fighting him and accusing him of stealing something from us, maybe we should just practice acceptance and open our eyes to look for the treasure buried within. I'm so thankful he doesn't let us settle for the lesser things we want; he patiently shapes us and allows us to suffer want until we realize that what he has in store is a thousand time greater.
Ashli, so AWESOME to see how God is using you to be a blessing to those in Burkina. LOVE and can relate in so many ways to what you say about the need patients have for an advocate here, the frustrations and challenges of advocating, and the joy at the end of the tunnel. I recall some of our conversations and just marvel at how God is using you as you submit to Him. To Him be the glory!!!
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