tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31435032457959032562024-03-13T20:26:05.199-07:00BigNemBilongYu"Honor to you"Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.comBlogger106125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-84242923203282199112023-12-24T01:37:00.000-08:002023-12-24T01:37:48.837-08:00Glories stream<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;">Robert walked along the stony roads of Jiwaka some weeks ago, unaware that his life was about to change forever. A bulldozer worked to clear large trees in preparation for a re-working of the road not far from our home. One tree snapped violently in half and spun out of control, striking Robert directly across the side of the head. He lost consciousness briefly and friends brought him to the emergency room at Kudjip.</p><p style="text-align: left;">After concluding a difficult post-partum hemorrhage management in our maternity ward, a nurse summoned me to the ER where Robert's injuries quickly threatened his airway and his life. One look and I knew that even with aggressive surgery he could die. I phoned my incredible friend and colleague Dr. Ben Radcliffe and we quickly took Robert to the operating theatre.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Fifteen minutes into the procedure we knew Robert was in big trouble. After creating a new airway that bypassed his injuries through his neck, the difficult work of stopping the bleeding and re-creating facial structures for Robert began. After two hours of work, Dr. Ben placed some stabilizing arch bars across his mandible and left large balloons and packs in his nose to slow the blood loss while we prayed for his head injury to stabilize before more definitive treatment could be pursued on another day. I found his brother waiting outside under the night sky and gave him the heavy news. As I bundled some things away in my clinic room and prepared to go home, I said a special prayer for Robert - one like so many I have uttered in the corridors of the hospital during those long call nights. </p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIEtM7HR44k_naiRQSrs6LeJtMHNN-He8MDwMxOh69nFxayZnfHwM6ONSTOZlt4bEFfs0-K54WslzKo6okEl7XUXbQ6C67dQrUOmKRV1Nc4SAQJ_oI-Jxj8RyPhcoTqCy9hvzP3Ytjm2vtgExn9xhaYA2BVp1eTCTiic70FYvhq5b1O1BgkTkaBjefd5d6/s2048/IMG_0281.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIEtM7HR44k_naiRQSrs6LeJtMHNN-He8MDwMxOh69nFxayZnfHwM6ONSTOZlt4bEFfs0-K54WslzKo6okEl7XUXbQ6C67dQrUOmKRV1Nc4SAQJ_oI-Jxj8RyPhcoTqCy9hvzP3Ytjm2vtgExn9xhaYA2BVp1eTCTiic70FYvhq5b1O1BgkTkaBjefd5d6/s320/IMG_0281.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;">Our family just returned from what has become my favorite Christmas tradition.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Each
year the missionaries of Kudjip visit the hospital on Christmas Eve to
bring carols, the nativity story, and small gifts to those in our
community who are too sick to be in their homes to celebrate Christ's
birth. Each year brings tears to my eyes.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I miss the
cold weather and the occasional white-morning Christmases in the U.S.
but if I could choose one sensation to replace them, it would be the
consistent blend of joy and gratitude that I feel during these special
times with family and my patients.</p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYga3IvNMhNN8wjBRoIR73UD39T95KxuWJgXLfbGQzvUaLNerl5Whb92PqlzuGG55QaueSDmIj5ZY2055kQrApYc9PqT4s0lVzKdt8jS7gE6iVFStBjnXYjV3BH4Gfl0YQ3ZKHfMBfx0o1aucVtFo3AHO-3guUwXHPv5DEVHOGxt-b5EBK_Ch4y_-0U5Ei/s4032/IMG_1257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYga3IvNMhNN8wjBRoIR73UD39T95KxuWJgXLfbGQzvUaLNerl5Whb92PqlzuGG55QaueSDmIj5ZY2055kQrApYc9PqT4s0lVzKdt8jS7gE6iVFStBjnXYjV3BH4Gfl0YQ3ZKHfMBfx0o1aucVtFo3AHO-3guUwXHPv5DEVHOGxt-b5EBK_Ch4y_-0U5Ei/w400-h300/IMG_1257.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1cu69ukXSC_qSQDZdMNRplZqwOF8o2yI-OySX2CFNoA5lDX-_B2_GHlXRtalIOcHEyWwbHgrwe3IIT2tTrEEDRN3DGNhmCFvsA7fDMYYo5nu0gqfPhByx-_0gRK-n3dc6gMIumRLjAhrHxmiqk8qOJyiHLn6egYXh7QVacyxvXnkQxIm5N8awHeNhsBP/s4032/IMG_8864.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1cu69ukXSC_qSQDZdMNRplZqwOF8o2yI-OySX2CFNoA5lDX-_B2_GHlXRtalIOcHEyWwbHgrwe3IIT2tTrEEDRN3DGNhmCFvsA7fDMYYo5nu0gqfPhByx-_0gRK-n3dc6gMIumRLjAhrHxmiqk8qOJyiHLn6egYXh7QVacyxvXnkQxIm5N8awHeNhsBP/s320/IMG_8864.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgNuvbOk4mRuMuGVmt_ZmndSJO_n4TFded_iLqvTER7Hom7jy4VabkfXnNKtgEtIgkH2pCrdxUdhToAAMvKW_0oc7_iKSN7ZOt7PZIXuPD6qL0a0IU6CtfshuEEKxwqyYs4dmve0ROz3HbUfMvLl5yzXJtCG_gi24vLnd3umJlP8PkuAeL77P7GEY-LZAA/s4003/IMG_8870.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1889" data-original-width="4003" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgNuvbOk4mRuMuGVmt_ZmndSJO_n4TFded_iLqvTER7Hom7jy4VabkfXnNKtgEtIgkH2pCrdxUdhToAAMvKW_0oc7_iKSN7ZOt7PZIXuPD6qL0a0IU6CtfshuEEKxwqyYs4dmve0ROz3HbUfMvLl5yzXJtCG_gi24vLnd3umJlP8PkuAeL77P7GEY-LZAA/w640-h302/IMG_8870.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;">As we shared Christmas presents with the suffering of the PNG
highlands, a tender moment interrupted me.</p><p style="text-align: left;">After our songs and reading of the Christmas story, a seemingly new Robert smiled and spoke clearly of his gratitude to God in sparing his life as I saw him shaking hands with Dr. Ben. Tears immediately came to my eyes as I recalled the thin, softly muttered prayer in the dark some weeks ago. I took Robert's hand in mine and managed to choke out a "Merry Christmas." I wasn't sure if I'd seen a more glorious sight.<br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1MeoHfM4wJ06_0_gFs-TgKwki84Wks79P5MR3ZiQLdO-YzCuX08VDNuDYwnUZYK0Ea0qoyuY31eqv5gS8sDkiOoicoVeFw9jsNhQizQj_Cux614rk7kGJRqNyOWqpe4q3uSoFOsYeD-TYOs33Gv5hDmXeNT7CTfuPk2aIlHeeEyoYJqArG6cv5D907ab-/s4032/IMG_1256.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1MeoHfM4wJ06_0_gFs-TgKwki84Wks79P5MR3ZiQLdO-YzCuX08VDNuDYwnUZYK0Ea0qoyuY31eqv5gS8sDkiOoicoVeFw9jsNhQizQj_Cux614rk7kGJRqNyOWqpe4q3uSoFOsYeD-TYOs33Gv5hDmXeNT7CTfuPk2aIlHeeEyoYJqArG6cv5D907ab-/s320/IMG_1256.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Our efforts in Kudjip go far beyond medicine. The lives of our friends and neighbors rub, and sometimes grate, against ours in ways that force us to bring God's patience, grace, forgiveness, and love to and through challenging times of ministry. The times our mission family can share in a Christmas party or a Christmas outreach build connections that allow our friendships to transcend the difficulties of bringing health and hope to a hurting place. </p><p style="text-align: left;">And the hallowed halls and wards of
the hospital become much more than just a place to practice medicine. They have changed into a sort of home. Not in the sense that I
live in them - but, in a way, the sacred work and vulnerable people that
they hold now live in me. Sometimes I feel it strongly during times that my family can join the ministry there. But many times I feel it most in darkened halls, whispering last resort prayers to a God that has shown himself willing to embrace the darkness of our world by joining us, dying for us, and lending His strength to us in pursuing His redemption for all people.</p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">Glories stream from Heaven afar</p><p style="text-align: center;">Heavenly hosts sing Hallelujah</p><p style="text-align: center;">Christ the savior is born</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wgLYLvTG5kM" target="_blank">JJ Heller</a><br /></p>Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-2877078913621875332023-09-27T23:59:00.000-07:002023-09-27T23:59:14.315-07:00More Gladness<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“There is a
far kingdom, aways from here -</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Beyond the
storm and the sea”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=19RghmEGw8E" target="_blank">The Gray Havens</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I completed
writing the note for what felt like the hundredth patient for the day – and I
hadn’t even finished rounds yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I
did so, a sinking feeling came over me and I went looking for the newborn I had
delivered about twelve hours prior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
nurses couldn’t tell me where he was, and I didn’t see any paperwork.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ghost-like appearance of his skin when I
did the cesarean section the night before filled my mind and brought a
too-familiar premonition to my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I went to
the nurses desk in search of paperwork – resigning myself to the sense that my
operation of the night before had failed to save the little one I held so
briefly on its way into the world. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unable to locate the forms needing my
signature, I decided to start in on my maternity rounds and return later to
complete them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqr9ReVvRKhKA4qju6y6ocRttkiFVYBejIwkxpEpwEig4PtcYxHuW6G1w2c6ykdug9-ps0vSMbkPxBAG9BB-RdGs1VEFzw9bU6eZqDGpt_8kGpiFnjJF4Lh3TCQ93BgvIbzb_kHtaVMR2CwEw-DiBntR0MO6bgREe5XrkAH2RozDOU07RbCRE0FHIgcLVl/s2048/IMG_3709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqr9ReVvRKhKA4qju6y6ocRttkiFVYBejIwkxpEpwEig4PtcYxHuW6G1w2c6ykdug9-ps0vSMbkPxBAG9BB-RdGs1VEFzw9bU6eZqDGpt_8kGpiFnjJF4Lh3TCQ93BgvIbzb_kHtaVMR2CwEw-DiBntR0MO6bgREe5XrkAH2RozDOU07RbCRE0FHIgcLVl/s320/IMG_3709.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This was
the first of our furloughs in which I did not pursue any locums work and it
afforded additional time for friends, family, rest, relaxing, a trip to Canada,
and some teaching at the In His Image residency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many things that filled my cup.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But I am
glad to return to the care of my highlands community back at Kudjip since our
stay in the US this summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As I round
most mornings, faces with bright smiles alternate with mothers just waking with
the morning sun as I make my way through the hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some I need to disturb for an exam, others I
let sleep while I review vital signs, lab results, nurse notations, or the
reports of medical students.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But in
recent days some great challenges threatened to overwhelm me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQBABiHtOfo7KuF7-sKqyEJaQoj-eclrss5XkRfaJTrr60zChTYy578Zsxv_Pncpi_izkaus6SlzsyYl1x1rXfxy0piBH58GaOrzevMgYTGbvnAU2MLULRo9nyeYF3oSirGH8gtK_5ju0MpyntCj2nKn0AUiuSndlUp-WhtAulAuTScitF02EtXEn5c_T/s2048/IMG_0281.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQBABiHtOfo7KuF7-sKqyEJaQoj-eclrss5XkRfaJTrr60zChTYy578Zsxv_Pncpi_izkaus6SlzsyYl1x1rXfxy0piBH58GaOrzevMgYTGbvnAU2MLULRo9nyeYF3oSirGH8gtK_5ju0MpyntCj2nKn0AUiuSndlUp-WhtAulAuTScitF02EtXEn5c_T/s320/IMG_0281.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A woman came
to Kudjip to deliver her baby in the safety of our maternity unit, but the
child was born with a significant congenital defect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though I attempted to provide the treatments
I knew could help, the baby got weaker over the next several days and eventually
passed away.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As I walked
away from the family, I glanced into a delivery room and saw the face of
another mother I had been caring for smiling at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I instinctively smiled back – but as I walked
on, a heaviness descended as I reflected on who she was.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A colleague
had evaluated her almost two weeks ago when she came to the hospital concerned
about not feeling her baby move for some time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We discovered that her little one had died in-utero and counseled and
prayed for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But her ordeal stretched
on as we struggled to effectively deliver her– hoping to avoid an operation that
would result in a painful and prolonged recovery for a now-deceased child.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Having just
had her baby, her smile conveyed gratitude that, after many attempts over
several days, she did not need to have surgery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I, too, was relieved and grateful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet I pondered on that smile for some time – wondering in what kind of
world a mother delivering a dead baby brings her a comfort and a smile?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shouldn’t the world - shouldn’t I - expect
better than that?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6aMkJ1vyrHSmRg5HGX_6utKPHjLQJSP9z6CWBHdLKmvK37ZCEbU7cdguOf7IrPXed4qtmbndgAWEf8Jj_o3bn4JAlXv8XndTjUhpWxHIxkRatn7bLRYH79eOlCW62Ny8ZUI7_z3EPJwguO83XBKYzq0dPXvqiZR-uxLSjnTDvplDri048cfhhQQlGVRF/s1600/IMG_1537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6aMkJ1vyrHSmRg5HGX_6utKPHjLQJSP9z6CWBHdLKmvK37ZCEbU7cdguOf7IrPXed4qtmbndgAWEf8Jj_o3bn4JAlXv8XndTjUhpWxHIxkRatn7bLRYH79eOlCW62Ny8ZUI7_z3EPJwguO83XBKYzq0dPXvqiZR-uxLSjnTDvplDri048cfhhQQlGVRF/s320/IMG_1537.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The Voyage of the Dawn Treader has always been my favorite book in the
Chronicles of Narnia. Two of the Pevensie children along with Eustace and the
honorable Reepicheep make a journey to the very end of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There they behold an amazing thing: Aslan’s
country. Beautiful beyond description but muted a bit when gazed upon through
a standing wave of the sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though they
do not enter his realm, the sight remains with them for the rest of their lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lewis describes Lucy reflecting on that glimpse of it years later –</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">““It would
break your heart.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Why,” said
I, “was it so sad?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Sad? No!,”
said Lucy.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuCRjITrKaeiBtK20xbvgSHe9EiUhyphenhyphenz_88DQlZFRiI75BVKimgZaHTUi_inQZLtdqC4vTiGqvZ_dnvCOnbuhUyb2ocMBPGhGFPJJrgfwWgX8am7Xgh76pohxgT6sZeDnHazW8P9sfnHlg3rcvDFgxUgfROi7FuIzd7SKvhV_WoDIfUvhwKmq4d_sbvNW_n/s1600/Aslans_country.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="1600" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuCRjITrKaeiBtK20xbvgSHe9EiUhyphenhyphenz_88DQlZFRiI75BVKimgZaHTUi_inQZLtdqC4vTiGqvZ_dnvCOnbuhUyb2ocMBPGhGFPJJrgfwWgX8am7Xgh76pohxgT6sZeDnHazW8P9sfnHlg3rcvDFgxUgfROi7FuIzd7SKvhV_WoDIfUvhwKmq4d_sbvNW_n/w400-h191/Aslans_country.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My blog
entries have thinned out in their frequency down the years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have asked myself if I am getting calloused,
or no longer moved by the suffering that often overwhelms our highland
community in Papua New Guinea.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Have I
given up on the redemption that I have heard about?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spend so much of my time in a place where loss feels like the norm, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">outside of that restored
kingdom, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> and it makes me wonder if I
will ever see it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> I went on with my rounds, anticipating a bit of a hollow day.<br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In bed
number one, a young woman, whose face I remembered well, slept peacefully under
pain medication, while a dutiful grandmother held a beautiful baby against her
breast – delightfully filling himself with a first-ever meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That ghostly child from the night
before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tears rimmed my eyes as I went
through the rest of my ward rounds moving from patient to patient in a glad mist.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGXy4EmrNypp36lMm2whYh42zJNTb24sYgbYZzQI62z-Bp9pifWiUBMdcPMqMJnLsZdPMYUUh0QlCEAFatOEZCOoqSe2RERcEtjb2jV-wWHY-BPUoorkDCV77AgaTjh4YVbU2kUCQq9Tc0wbifSngDdzVQ2stOWNNfFHJ5X9br_kIujeDq-2oMtleViRJ4/s2048/SusanBaby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1530" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGXy4EmrNypp36lMm2whYh42zJNTb24sYgbYZzQI62z-Bp9pifWiUBMdcPMqMJnLsZdPMYUUh0QlCEAFatOEZCOoqSe2RERcEtjb2jV-wWHY-BPUoorkDCV77AgaTjh4YVbU2kUCQq9Tc0wbifSngDdzVQ2stOWNNfFHJ5X9br_kIujeDq-2oMtleViRJ4/s320/SusanBaby.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“There is a
far kingdom on the other side of the glass</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And by a
faint light we see.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Still there
is more gladness longing for the sight,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Than to
behold, or be filled by, anything.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">After so
many years of depending on God’s sovereignty in the face of my many failures,
and successes, here I felt like I learned something new in that moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had been given a glimpse into that restored
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seen, as ever, through a veil and
a haze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet real enough to provide more
than the grace and strength to just continue – enough to receive gladness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I feel it during both the great
privileges and the great burdens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">That it is
more filling to simply stand on a threshold, occasionally peering into God’s
redemption, than to pursue anything else.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“I would
rather be a gatekeeper in the house of the Lord </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">than live the good life in the
land of the wicked”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Psalm 84:10 (NASV) <br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><style>@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:swiss;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536859905 -1073732485 9 0 511 0;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0cm;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}a:link, span.MsoHyperlink
{mso-style-priority:99;
color:#0563C1;
mso-themecolor:hyperlink;
text-decoration:underline;
text-underline:single;}a:visited, span.MsoHyperlinkFollowed
{mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
color:#954F72;
mso-themecolor:followedhyperlink;
text-decoration:underline;
text-underline:single;}.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-50043406526310447892023-04-09T14:25:00.001-07:002023-04-09T17:40:51.619-07:00Strength Indeed Small<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I entered
my clinic room after rounding on about twenty patients in our medical
ward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt the draw of returning to
perform a lumbar puncture and ultrasound examinations but stopped by my office
to pick up some things I would need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
small stack of papers awaited me, left by our medical records officer – death
certificates needing my signature.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">With
several of our doctors out on furlough, I have been working in our nursery in
addition to my medical ward rounds the past few weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has been a while since I’ve consistently
been there and I don’t think I’m exaggerating to say its busier than I think
we’ve ever seen it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mothers and babies
cluster close together in a room designed to trap their body heat and warm the
little lives under our care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IV poles
drip fluids into tiny veins, a cylinder leaks out small amounts of supplement
oxygen through split tubing into frail lungs, medicines are prepared in insulin
syringes to accommodate the miniscule volumes about to be administered, a nurse
dutifully prepares charts, and a missionary doctor scans the room hoping to see
all the faces he encountered yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But some are nearly always missing, their short lives momentarily
recalled in a day or two when I sign that stack of papers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I hear the
savior say,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“They
strength indeed is small.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Child of
weakness watch and pray.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Find in Me,
thine all in all.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A baby I
will call Anna delivered prematurely to an unmarried University student two
months ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few weeks of tending
this little one, her mother returned to school, leaving the child’s grandmother
as her sole custodian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Routinely, I
asked if the baby was breastfeeding and was told, “Nogat – mama I go bek lo
skul pinis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Em mi yet tasol.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No – her mother is gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s just me now.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We
discussed the proper way to prepare formula for this premature baby, being
careful to make sure the water and equipment was clean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked if there were any women in the family
who could breastfeed the baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No – but
grandma was determined that she could prepare and give the feeds properly.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I moved on
to my other tiny patients, their small lungs using every bit of their energy to
take their next breaths, and I feared that their strength would give out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I can do is watch and pray.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQZZF1RL64Tt1JUYD6aoVLJlJ1DJiK7puOIuYIvUzF-Aa1i7o-2cayC2OOZcNSGPbXeKD5eGHOqs2rWfEdXTWzepYalwKCKRrZmO-Q26RfFAt6dbRW2DrlRj2OX9jYVXrzlAxmWtVUEMkKjgNAPEao_9rKD4Uw04WsIhiDENNvIP2JiHnjPsCcNgpnpw/s4032/IMG_7446.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQZZF1RL64Tt1JUYD6aoVLJlJ1DJiK7puOIuYIvUzF-Aa1i7o-2cayC2OOZcNSGPbXeKD5eGHOqs2rWfEdXTWzepYalwKCKRrZmO-Q26RfFAt6dbRW2DrlRj2OX9jYVXrzlAxmWtVUEMkKjgNAPEao_9rKD4Uw04WsIhiDENNvIP2JiHnjPsCcNgpnpw/s320/IMG_7446.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In the next
bassinet I pause before asking mom to accompany me to a more secluded part of
the ward.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“I have
tried everything to help your baby but nothing’s working.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ve been a long way from home for two
months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m worried about your
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yesterday, you asked if you
could just take your baby home and give her to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I agree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This illness cannot be cured.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">She thanked
me for my care, took my hands, heard my prayer of surrender, and bundled her
baby into a string bag hung over her head to begin a long journey into a remote
corner of our province – most likely to begin preparations for a burial.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Lord now indeed I find</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Thy pow'r and Thine alone</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Can change a leper's spots</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And melt the heart of stone<br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When I set
out upon this entry, I planned to draw parallels between Christ’s
triumphant resurrection and a miraculous story of recovery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I began to write the story of how Anna’s baby
returned having gained weight, when I received the phone call from the emergency
room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Dokta, mipela I gat wanpela boi
na ka I bampim em.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A young boy we will
call Norman was crossing the highway after getting dropped off near his home
from Sunday Lotu when a large truck struck him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thrown across the ground, bystanders quickly rushed him to the Kudjip
emergency room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next two hours I
spent administering sedating drugs to alleviate the agitation from my patient’s
severe head injury while cleaning and stitching multiple lacerations, reducing
and splinting his femur fracture, and providing breathing support for his
pulmonary contusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After stabilizing
him to the best of my ability, I took the hands of his parents in our crowded
emergency room on Easter Sunday and prayed that God might join the work of our
medicines and treatments in healing him while giving peace to the hearts of his
parents.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I do not
preach many sermons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do not plant churches,
though the work of our hospital has started several them. But I have found a unique niche in meeting some of the great physical needs of our community
while attempting to bring Christ’s love to bear on my patients. I have seen many of them embrace His salvation and I pray and hope that they will help bring the change to this country that is desperately needed.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">About
two weeks ago I entered the emergency room and examined the first chart
handed to me by the nurse in charge. A young woman we will call Lucy
on bed six had delivered her baby at Kudjip ten days prior, but now
suffered from fevers and weakness. Upon discharge she and her infant
had been given a supply of anti-retroviral medications for HIV.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Her
blood pressure hovered at about 80 millimeters of mercury, her pulse
around 120 beats per minute, she breathed at nearly sixty times a
minute, and she drifted in and out of consciousness. No guardian stood
by. Staff and I scrambled for oxygen, IV access, and powerful
antibiotics while I retrieved the ultrasound machine, worried about a
postpartum infection. As I concluded the scan, her mother and newborn
child arrived at the bedside having just obtained her mandatory health
book from our check-in clerk. As I quickly transferred her back to our
maternity unit, we obtained a chest X-ray that revealed a profound
pneumonia in her lungs. I could not "quick-fix" this with surgery and I
was convinced that she would die, leaving her grandmother to tend
another PNG highlands orphan.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I
explained the situation to this sweet woman, every inch of 4-foot-10,
cradling her grand-daughter in a bag over her shoulders. Her eyes
misted as she considered the severity of the situation and she asked,
"The baby is hungry - can she still feed?" I suggested that her mother
was unlikely to be able to produce breast-milk and we would provide
supplements for a while, but yes, she could still attempt to join baby
and mother for a while. I left the ward, along with one of our new
missionary doctors, catching the image of a frail but dedicated
grandmother latching her new grand-baby onto her daughter's lifeless
form. <br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As I enter
my tenth year serving in the highlands of Papua New Guinea, I field more and
more consults from my fellow doctors: seeking advice on how to evaluate certain
cases, manage specific conditions, or even just to navigate the myriad
challenges that buffet a physician tasked with a burden that should be shared
among more colleagues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In ten years, I
have gained a little knowledge, some experience, and many scars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I supposed one would think ten years serving
in this ministry would make an “expert.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet so many times my strength is small compared to the needs around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like those little ones completely dependent
on the few interventions that we can provide, I feel somewhat helpless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiSjEpYkkMlU60asbBVclW4YDlAXlBTFaLh9RAYLaqKtjdrxk_IbCYSDJErIFw7Wk6EOro46L39R0ZK3Tmtp4ta7fDm9glUcSAy_RfwJEN0IqU_oxPeKAoxbW1HJTd7165ITSd7mAfFqf5s-636zAOObW_EKHI2XbZLU9pclQ8nzTj7nx3aGkNHurj0g/s4032/IMG_7449.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiSjEpYkkMlU60asbBVclW4YDlAXlBTFaLh9RAYLaqKtjdrxk_IbCYSDJErIFw7Wk6EOro46L39R0ZK3Tmtp4ta7fDm9glUcSAy_RfwJEN0IqU_oxPeKAoxbW1HJTd7165ITSd7mAfFqf5s-636zAOObW_EKHI2XbZLU9pclQ8nzTj7nx3aGkNHurj0g/s320/IMG_7449.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But I know
that I don’t need great strength.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
fact, Paul writes that God’s strength is most manifest in my weakness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can and should invest my life into God’s
call for the care of the sick and hurting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But all of it depends on Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
watching and praying allows Him to show Himself strong.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And when before the throne</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I stand in Him complete</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">"Jesus died my soul to save"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My lips shall still repeat.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-size: medium;">Over
the next two days, Lucy lay almost motionless connected to IV fluids,
oxygen, a urinary catheter, and at times to her new daughter - dutifully
placed there by a loving "bubu." And then she started to speak in
sentences, eat and drink, and even sit up on her own power. A few days
more and she was cradling her new baby lovingly to her breast, bathing
her, then allowing her to nap in the ward looked after by our nurses
while she went outside to see the sun a bit - resurrected to a new life
with her child.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Today
Christians all over the world celebrate that Jesus rose out of his grave to
defeat sin and death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is risen
indeed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though our world still hurts
from the bondage of the Fall, He now rules and reigns with His Father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His strength heals broken bodies, cares for
newborn babies, and changes hearts and souls.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Jesus paid
it all</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">All to Him
I owe</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Sin had
left a crimson stain</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He washed
it white as snow</span></p>
<p><style>@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:swiss;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536859905 -1073732485 9 0 511 0;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0cm;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-25419359870985047122022-12-17T12:49:00.000-08:002022-12-17T12:49:45.457-08:00Waiting long<p style="text-align: center;">"Lonely hearts strung across the land -<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">They'd been waiting long for a healing hand."</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XDm_8msbGUk" target="_blank">Future of Forestry </a> </p><p><br /></p><p>I didn't like anything about what I was seeing in front of me. The size of the pregnant abdomen was a little too small. The amount of contraction pain etched in the woman's face was too real. The ultrasound monitor showed a vigorous heartbeat, but the numbers were troubling and the baby was presenting breech. At about twenty-nine or thirty weeks gestation, this baby had a chance to survive, albeit small in our setting. Mom had previously been through two cesarean deliveries in the past, so her uterus was likely weakened and ran a risk of significant damage in any subsequent pregnancies. If I decided to operate on her and give her baby its best chance of survival she would need to be sterilized to prevent this. But there was no guarantee this little one would live.</p><p>For a full minute I took slow breaths and attempted to calm my thoughts amidst the bustle of nurses placing IV lines and getting supplies for mother - and watched the flicker of that too-small heart on the monitor.</p><p>I chose the difficult road of surgery - hoping and praying that a baby's life might be saved - though it would mean the mother could not try for other children if something went wrong.</p><p>A colleague of mine performed the surgery and a tiny baby was quickly brought to my nursery.</p><p>I was disappointed when I saw the birth weight - less than I guessed, and far less than I hoped. But I told her grandmother that we would do everything we could to preserve this little one's life. A prospect now made all the more important after her tubal ligation.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The next morning I dutifully attended to my little nursery patients and knew one was missing. As I concluded and left the ward, the nurse handed me the all-too-familiar paperwork for a baby that had died. I signed it and tried to bury my disappointment and get on with my day.<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ945PGx7Nb5HziSu5iO8qJdx_G5dk4Lf8ItmO_MZvXKsO-zng4kudQrK_p5tflA_HeAay5BSrnmGR267CNHmwBNaKWTT1Y5ISKRE63m_XZiWv6FJyb790iIevyaI5ASnlrbU-mI4rv0Wb1WAcCKBizkZv5Dfy3eoxYePrafcryI3VOBHAy7Y0sW6w_g/s1600/IMG_1582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ945PGx7Nb5HziSu5iO8qJdx_G5dk4Lf8ItmO_MZvXKsO-zng4kudQrK_p5tflA_HeAay5BSrnmGR267CNHmwBNaKWTT1Y5ISKRE63m_XZiWv6FJyb790iIevyaI5ASnlrbU-mI4rv0Wb1WAcCKBizkZv5Dfy3eoxYePrafcryI3VOBHAy7Y0sW6w_g/s320/IMG_1582.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Christmas always gets me. I enjoy nostalgic memories of family, winters, Christmas trees, hot drinks, sledding, carols, a break from school, the crisp nights with brilliant stars, time with friends, and the candle-light service at church.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But what brings me to tears on an almost daily basis during Advent is the reality of that young couple more than two thousand years ago. Treasuring a secret hope for the entire world. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On a daily basis I am blessed and burdened to see new lives enter this world, and to see many take their leave of it. But beyond my comprehension lies the love and strength of a God that would choose all this. Choose to risk the dangers of His Son being born into a small corner of the Earth for the great task of saving it. Choose a young woman to hold His life in her hands. Choose a young man to raise Him. Choose to use this family for the great redemption of His entire creation. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Choose me - to seek and save, and to bring along in His work of restoration in what small ways I might, if I am willing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And in this time we are called to remember it. That God came down with us - Immanuel. Not descending through the clouds into a palace fit for His position, but through the obedience of a girl and her fiance' into a crib of straw still stained with the feed of animals. Those first cries piercing the air like any other babe - but setting the eternal realms ablaze. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxU6WuXezVhJTLRnROKhYKkicq0S4CKN-XLX-g_GQSDQ743PAkv4Ac9EjgUCqU7ahVP-eMqjBDPBbfG2exfbjoQhizPsKCUMgijdHmZmc4x5QG3Iq0GVGxRwk2c5mead8fvI6dChVG7r189kvfb4clHlYKqGplTChhPaVDqjS3vbzrODrhBJqdmVQ3Mg/s1920/DGz8eSF.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxU6WuXezVhJTLRnROKhYKkicq0S4CKN-XLX-g_GQSDQ743PAkv4Ac9EjgUCqU7ahVP-eMqjBDPBbfG2exfbjoQhizPsKCUMgijdHmZmc4x5QG3Iq0GVGxRwk2c5mead8fvI6dChVG7r189kvfb4clHlYKqGplTChhPaVDqjS3vbzrODrhBJqdmVQ3Mg/s320/DGz8eSF.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Just after I signed those papers, I went to check on another mother recently delivered. On the way, I heard a colleague - "Mama, bebi i sotwin! Na mi mas halpim yu inap long karim." I had no doubt in her ability, but felt I might be able to help. I collected some supplies and prepared to receive the baby. After some herculean efforts by both mother and doctor her first baby delivered - weak and floppy - into my waiting arms. I cleared the airway and felt for a heartbeat which was present but slow. I began to give artificial breaths and, after a minute or so without much response, worried that this little one would also fail to see a full turn of this earth. I kept going, from fear or determination I wasn't sure, praying that this one, at least, would fill its mother's arms. So much long waiting in just a few moments. The earth stood still.<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But bit later, a gasping breath raised that little chest. Several more followed and then the welcome noises of soft crying rang in my ears. A refreshing gratitude settled into my heart. I knew I could face the waiting day, with its hopes and fears, remembering the One who gave His birth, life, and death for the help and hope of this world.<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXM0oYDwm_4ZL7uq0Lmc4ZN_LqDJPQC_nbLuqHon6CU_kaEy21NZw59MdK6yHiIuWa5uEZOD_Hi-BKA3JYbOYVHiY30QCrHCnRrUyTal14H0wVAsl6x7mPtpBRLlzYI4ElbkYccViBSHAUNzsZj-Rw4a6dV5EkiDrwpHvEdhiAinkmFP41emMIYyOMA/s1500/Ia4fm9.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="841" data-original-width="1500" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXM0oYDwm_4ZL7uq0Lmc4ZN_LqDJPQC_nbLuqHon6CU_kaEy21NZw59MdK6yHiIuWa5uEZOD_Hi-BKA3JYbOYVHiY30QCrHCnRrUyTal14H0wVAsl6x7mPtpBRLlzYI4ElbkYccViBSHAUNzsZj-Rw4a6dV5EkiDrwpHvEdhiAinkmFP41emMIYyOMA/w400-h224/Ia4fm9.gif" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Shepherds stirred under starry skies<br />Tasting grace that would change their lives<br />The angels trembled and the demons did too<br />For they knew very well what pure grace would do"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br />Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-3973845302827611572022-10-28T14:11:00.000-07:002022-10-28T14:11:55.069-07:00Every Matter<p style="text-align: center;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“My life is
Yours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hope is in You only.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My heart You
hold; because You made this sinner Holy.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">-<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eQssA0HKYxE" target="_blank">All Sons
& Daughters</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I flipped
through the hand-written notes in my patient’s medical record or “scale
book.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had been evaluated in a
couple of hospitals over the past six months due to irregular bleeding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At one she had undergone a biopsy for a
“lesion” in her birth canal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
awaiting the result of this test unsuccessfully for months, she returned to her
home province of Jiwaka in the highlands to seek care at Kudjip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had a young child and looked about thirty-five
years old to me.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I summoned
our clerk as a chaperone and examined her with a terribly un-surprising
result.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A tumor growing from her cervix
encroached on the surrounding tissues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Because of her age, I still hoped that perhaps the cancer hadn’t spread
beyond the higher portion of birth canal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I told her and her “was-meri” that I wanted to perform a scan to
determine the extent of her illness, but that I was worried this might be a
cancer that is beyond our treatment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Dispela sik I look olsem sik nogut I stap, tasol I gat lik-lik chance
we mipela inap ken rausim yet.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Before we
could get to the ultrasound a nursing student knocked on the door and called
from the other side, without opening it, “Dokta Mark – Dokta Angeline I nidim
yu long D-ward hariap.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I have been
working with our newest PNG doctor in training for the past few weeks on the
maternity service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has been a
privilege and a joy to see her embrace caring for the women of Jiwaka and
expand her obstetrical knowledge and skills.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As I
entered delivery room number three, a vigorous but small baby lay in the basinet
next to the bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually this would be
the point at which the room relaxes a bit, but there was still a tension in the
air as Dr. Angeline gowned up and approached our laboring mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While the nursing students started an IV drip,
the midwife informed me, “Second baby I kam breech.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I looked
around Angeline’s shoulder and saw a distinct gluteal cleft approaching the
perineum with mom’s contractions and pushing efforts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I quickly asked, “How many breech deliveries
have you done?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With what I imagined was
a nervous smile beneath the surgical mask, Angeline said, “None.” </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I gently
rotated the emerging baby’s pelvis to keep the back of the baby up, then placed
Angeline’s hands on the sacrum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The legs
delivered and baby emerged to the umbilicus, at which point Angeline guided her
hands over the baby’s back and along the arms to fold the elbows and bring the
arms out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The moment of truth had
arrived – the largest part of the baby, the head, now needed to be flexed
through the birth canal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Angeline
performed the needed maneuver, mom gave a final push, and her second baby made
its entrance into this world with a mighty and healthy cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As the baby nestled onto mom’s abdomen,
Angeline and I exchanged a gloved fist-bump while she prepared to conclude the
delivery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a passion for teaching
medicine, so my heart glowed a bit as I de-gloved listening to the cries of two
healthy newborns and watching my registrar competently care for her patient.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3YqMH7lVUUV7lavIw67VI2PfB7jl3LtbDsDRl3FGd2kov9fXJSM9to8omFguZP80ErEaqMSK8Kp8VghtDCQMINGpVksQ_26hlsf38tc00oGvzzHNjlnH2tGEuwf3KwT1gAP3g2td8ns0u1mnUtXzC44wnkAyVeZOyTeaMUb_w3ZEsNY_gjP_Bsu7CQ/s320/IMG_1516.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3YqMH7lVUUV7lavIw67VI2PfB7jl3LtbDsDRl3FGd2kov9fXJSM9to8omFguZP80ErEaqMSK8Kp8VghtDCQMINGpVksQ_26hlsf38tc00oGvzzHNjlnH2tGEuwf3KwT1gAP3g2td8ns0u1mnUtXzC44wnkAyVeZOyTeaMUb_w3ZEsNY_gjP_Bsu7CQ/s1600/IMG_1516.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In my
excitement, I had forgotten who waited in my exam room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">About
thirty minutes after my abrupt departure, my patient and I made our way to the
ultrasound machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scan confirmed
that the tumor had indeed spread to involve multiple internal organs rendering
it inoperable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The warm glow in my heart
felt like it had cold water poured over it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We returned to my exam room and I shared the diagnosis and prognosis
with her and her guardian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After answering
a few questions, I wrote medicines to help with the symptoms she was currently
experiencing, prayed for healing and comfort with them, and escorted them to
the chaplain’s room for further counseling.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“For
everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A time to
be born, and a time to die”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Ecclesiastes
3:1-2</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Some of our
newer doctors recently took a much-deserved break to recharge and the clinical
work of the hospital increased.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each day
wore on the next and the call nights seemed to come thick and fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The never-ending stream of patients
transformed from an opportunity to share Christ’s love and hope to a bit of an
obligation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My temper shortened and my
thoughts dwelled on all the “bad” – bad outcomes, bad news, and bad sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The good continued – but I saw less of it
than I wanted (or needed).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfDNW2N7BQbb5KlT-cEeCSHRysZjuTgXAHsF2VZ3x0KY2mZAQqdGyC0H0p3rTW9VoZ2tQOGtS6pnGKWzvnY8GjPCsVYpo_g1h5cg1ADCcfH6LZ6D6QGlnHuwVbYm1m5ZVLAHgNrZxZ-95hltpgf1N0tlgA3uk9r65cKk4oo1dYyxflA82lH6aoFGLeTg/s4032/IMG_1503.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfDNW2N7BQbb5KlT-cEeCSHRysZjuTgXAHsF2VZ3x0KY2mZAQqdGyC0H0p3rTW9VoZ2tQOGtS6pnGKWzvnY8GjPCsVYpo_g1h5cg1ADCcfH6LZ6D6QGlnHuwVbYm1m5ZVLAHgNrZxZ-95hltpgf1N0tlgA3uk9r65cKk4oo1dYyxflA82lH6aoFGLeTg/s320/IMG_1503.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In our
first weekend in PNG I accompanied my language tutor, Gabriel, on a walk around
a nearby village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stopped by a “haus-kapa”
with a water tank just as I asked, “Gabriel – are there seasons in Papua New
Guinea?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is there a rainy season?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He walked over to the water tank and pounded
it in a few different places, discovering that the water was near the bottom
and pronounced, “Yes – it is dry season.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">There are
no daily weather reports in our Waghi Valley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No constant measurements of temperature and rainfall nor predictions
about storms to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is difficult to
appreciate what kind of season we are in unless a deliberate pause is made to
reflect upon it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">After
nearly nine years of serving in the highland jungles of Papua New Guinea, I
have discovered the same is often true about the seasons God brings to me in
the work of serving my family, my patients, and my community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While many days feel the same, there are
changes I might notice if I took the time to do so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our latest season has been one of heavier
work in the hospital and more demands on my time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But God’s provision is not less in those
moments simply because I do not feel Him as acutely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, it may be given in a greater share
than at times I feel more composed or relaxed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If I am willing to recognize that a season of difficulty is something
ordained with a purpose, I can learn to dwell there without constantly looking
for an exit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That season can be
something I endure and, one day, even embrace rather than escape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because there is another season coming that
is ordained for refreshing and life-giving waters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Waters made all the better because of the thirsty
and dry ground they land on.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmcnObh9G9GCp-dDnADYOHzrTqlECOVeyFHs8jl3LVxQJv-u_fCUgKB2rnKunXxgmuIP6_E56hBt6fAxEeEf2WtsYoG4BHiTrSva705QjVI6Dgdd9Vm83vKaibJk2OXQImipxJ_YXCZN-zocpRWxPY3lviNp1BR84Y2ocJKSPIA6pkxAAI1iAS6zz0Yg/s1280/erinm-rainbow-over-kudjip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmcnObh9G9GCp-dDnADYOHzrTqlECOVeyFHs8jl3LVxQJv-u_fCUgKB2rnKunXxgmuIP6_E56hBt6fAxEeEf2WtsYoG4BHiTrSva705QjVI6Dgdd9Vm83vKaibJk2OXQImipxJ_YXCZN-zocpRWxPY3lviNp1BR84Y2ocJKSPIA6pkxAAI1iAS6zz0Yg/s320/erinm-rainbow-over-kudjip.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I called to
the front of our outpatient queue for another patient to join me in my
room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a young man rose and made his
way toward me, a smile broke out on his face that gave me pause.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He entered and said, “Doctor, before I tell
you about my illness, I want to share a story.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As one of a
handful of doctors working in the referral hospital for a population of 400,000
people, my margin for listening to stories is normally low and I’ve been known
to interrupt patients before getting there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But at times I bite my tongue and decided to on this occasion.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“About a
year ago I brought my father to you, and he was very sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, you said that he wouldn’t live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You prayed with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took him to another hospital to look for
more treatment, but they were not able to help him, and he passed away shortly
after.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I never forgot that
prayer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not a church-man, but I will
never forget it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you for praying
for us.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Your glory
is so beautiful; I fall onto my knees in awe.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And the
heartbeat of my life is to worship in your light.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Because
Your Glory is so beautiful”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p><style>@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:swiss;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536859905 -1073732485 9 0 511 0;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0cm;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-15121850816083452202022-06-11T22:04:00.003-07:002022-06-11T22:12:59.685-07:00Worth fighting<p> A woman presented to our hospital having seen a rush of fluid and
vaginal bleeding after just five months of pregnancy. An ultrasound
scan revealed twin babies, perfectly formed, measuring about 17 weeks,
but without any of the protective fluid in the womb needed for their
growth. Over the next couple of days, the bleeding continued and the
fluid showed signs of infection. Then the leading baby died. The
second one still had a heartbeat but no fluid, and mom's hemoglobin dropped
two grams in two days. I administered antibiotics and multiple
medicines in an attempt to deliver the now deceased baby and her
sister. I
felt the chances of their mother suffering a serious complication were
too great. But nothing worked. Her body did not respond to the medications we gave and the time had come to remove her deceased baby and her terminally ill sister. <br /></p><p>My heart weighed heavier and heavier as I approached the task ahead of me. I tried so hard to avoid it, but now I prepared to perform one the procedures I have come to abhor. I have only been forced into it a handful of times, but each one is hauntingly painful. I sensed myself bargaining. Perhaps another emergent case would come up and derail this one. Perhaps the surgery team wouldn't be ready in time and I would hand it off to the on-call doctor, who said she would be willing to complete it for me. But in my heart, I knew the burden of my decision and that it should be my responsibility. Mom understood and, having felt sicker each morning for the past three days, asked me to proceed.</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">"It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are."</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYo4jbBPRT0" target="_blank">Lord of the Rings </a><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;">Anyone who has known me for more than a day or two probably knows that I am a Tolkien fan. In the Lord of the Rings, Frodo and Sam undertake a perilous journey to rid the world of a great evil. In doing so, Frodo nearly succumbs to despair. Upon realizing that his own soul is changing because of the evil he sees and carries with him, he wants to give up. But his companion Sam sees beauty and light on the other side of their present darkness.</p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTFQdc9Fhvl6FlQJ_P5YDHVMuMJwnOhSjPxOcF8_jV07Z1d7l_Uh7ZNlj8eCT-GXjvSb_yANoQEU56fscxD6vpn491SJeQJ9_teP6rbE0eU2yIUk45YD9oria--VhMM2rEGIKVMqXp6kIjx7ZsWt4InE80m2FFrw8R7Y6AFtjBnkR325s00RAd9Hq4RQ/s817/d458d113771a921f69c8378f1a76ce03-1114329236.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="570" data-original-width="817" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTFQdc9Fhvl6FlQJ_P5YDHVMuMJwnOhSjPxOcF8_jV07Z1d7l_Uh7ZNlj8eCT-GXjvSb_yANoQEU56fscxD6vpn491SJeQJ9_teP6rbE0eU2yIUk45YD9oria--VhMM2rEGIKVMqXp6kIjx7ZsWt4InE80m2FFrw8R7Y6AFtjBnkR325s00RAd9Hq4RQ/s320/d458d113771a921f69c8378f1a76ce03-1114329236.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">Some months ago a young woman presented to the hospital with painful
contractions after just seven months of pregnancy. She
delivered not one but three very low birth-weight babies ranging from
900 to 1,200 grams. In our setting, these little ones faced almost
impossible odds to survive. In those early days I counseled mom with a
desperate realism - that we would do everything we could for them, but I
did not think they would live. Each day I attempted to prepare her
for the difficult road ahead and the likelihood that at least one, if
not all, of her babies would die in the hospital. When they all started losing weight, I began to dread rounding on those three babies cuddled
together in their single warmer. The smallest developed an infection and
difficulty breathing. When I moved to a different ward of the
hospital I felt guiltily grateful that I might not have to be the one to
pronounce them. I nearly despaired.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">"It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo - the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end, because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?"</p><p style="text-align: left;">Some weeks later a colleague of mine shared a request in our prayer meeting for three small premature babies in the nursery - triplets that, despite being small and seemingly frail, appeared to be making a turnaround. My heart was buoyed by the news. But I have held more tightly to cautious and expectant hope rather than unrealistic optimism. I remained downcast.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh36_HSEIB8GQePx0D7z7jDT0dnhe2dZl8n61xooBiAt8xFmVWM2mbaLLcpP6zvvULNlR8h8Qs1lgAtsMFr0MJpKJ3RXuPA2KmUUwcpG796fYqBN9ye_YzjzmzJiS_jyw-tLwE1uDwwrKcIfFOJeZq63OBml5dq91sILOWIxtwKSsrPUZrTLdTkz08PtA/s4032/IMG_5202.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh36_HSEIB8GQePx0D7z7jDT0dnhe2dZl8n61xooBiAt8xFmVWM2mbaLLcpP6zvvULNlR8h8Qs1lgAtsMFr0MJpKJ3RXuPA2KmUUwcpG796fYqBN9ye_YzjzmzJiS_jyw-tLwE1uDwwrKcIfFOJeZq63OBml5dq91sILOWIxtwKSsrPUZrTLdTkz08PtA/s320/IMG_5202.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">Some time later, I returned to our maternity ward. After a glance over the charts of the twelve expectant mothers we were managing that day, I entered our nursery. I could hear the hymns of the nearby church beginning the Sunday service. The crowded room bustled with young mothers and their little treasures - changing clothes for the doctor's arrival while delicately navigating intravenous lines and oxygen tubing. Several greetings of "moning" welcomed me and I collected papers, afraid that I might need to ruin many of those smiles with the day's news.</p><p style="text-align: left;">The first warmer I came to took my breath away.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Three healthy babies cuddled together wearing matching Sunday dresses. A young mother and a new grandmother smiled at my surprise. They were now the seasoned veterans of our nursery and could even be seen advising newer arrivals on how to look after their little ones. As I perused their growth charts I grew more and more stunned. Not only were they growing, but breastfeeding and approaching a healthy discharge home from the hospital! As the hymns continued in the background, I enjoyed a silent and misty-eyed moment of reverent gratitude. </p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSjEVF6dnwaeVE2sdvBkF1uiMxS-p7qbbF-w_ydBgUzUFn4mhXYxbs-RbwtR00uxVD8jWXSuepNXl5N-XqcNmUsFbE3KWJXmPJ4BUIg0ZJoYeaUOHP58oMrvHB0qFECocu1YmNjtAqaakQU7AUkMrSIPeekicragEfn6hdT43c1H3TAkcAs9DkSZqUdQ/s4032/IMG_5872.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSjEVF6dnwaeVE2sdvBkF1uiMxS-p7qbbF-w_ydBgUzUFn4mhXYxbs-RbwtR00uxVD8jWXSuepNXl5N-XqcNmUsFbE3KWJXmPJ4BUIg0ZJoYeaUOHP58oMrvHB0qFECocu1YmNjtAqaakQU7AUkMrSIPeekicragEfn6hdT43c1H3TAkcAs9DkSZqUdQ/w400-h300/IMG_5872.heic" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;">"But in the end, it's only a passing
thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And
when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those are the
stories that stayed with you, that meant something, even if you were too
small to understand why."</p><p style="text-align: center;">"But I think,
Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had
lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going.
Because they were holding on to something."</p><p style="text-align: left;">A decade ago we felt the distinct call of God to pursue caring for the least, the last, and the lost in the highlands of Papua New Guinea. Over the years, my initial heroic optimism has matured into a persevering hope. The enduring effects of our service here are evident in the children I see running around our village that I delivered, in the new doctors that I have taught, and in the grateful smiles of families I've cared for as we go to and from the market. But every once in a while, a moment of miserable darkness threatens to to blot it out. When another child dies, a mother loses her newborn, or the endless tribal violence fills our wards with casualties, I begin to wonder what I am holding onto. In some of my most challenging call nights, I have thought it would be simplest and easiest to leave these daily battles to someone else. </p><p style="text-align: left;">When I reflect on that call, I know now. I am not called to great accomplishments and great victories. Not even to be successful, though with God's grace we often are. I am called to fight for what Christ fought for - God's redemption of this world through the rescue of individual hearts. A contest filled with miracles, narrow escapes, blood, trials, deaths, and resurrection. At times, the gravity of it escapes me - while at others I cannot escape it. But in all times, I pray I would continue steadfastly in His hope.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">"What are we holding onto, Sam?"</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: center;">"That's there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it's worth fighting for."</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis81qjgPTZ8djzoafo95S2Ht0BTv_ykE5xzWscJEn0S-YdZzkqPNpTpN3hvBV6aJFdmjmiUnw7UG176KpyboYKT8eNh5B8lV-GCzMf8cv192aMrxM18Dtb86j5KhOc3dwmJmSZE8AE-ZtsZN4u3Nky6bA-KQzbPStospJNFq2ivYR6MSr_tdQadVl-7g/s1600/IMG_1616.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis81qjgPTZ8djzoafo95S2Ht0BTv_ykE5xzWscJEn0S-YdZzkqPNpTpN3hvBV6aJFdmjmiUnw7UG176KpyboYKT8eNh5B8lV-GCzMf8cv192aMrxM18Dtb86j5KhOc3dwmJmSZE8AE-ZtsZN4u3Nky6bA-KQzbPStospJNFq2ivYR6MSr_tdQadVl-7g/w400-h300/IMG_1616.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-75422823456980369452022-02-03T21:40:00.000-08:002022-02-03T21:40:53.554-08:00Nearer<div style="text-align: center;">"So draw me nearer Lord</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Never let me go </div><div style="text-align: center;">Closer to your heart </div><div style="text-align: center;">Draw me nearer Lord"</div><div style="text-align: center;">-<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RqoIk-jj0uQ" target="_blank">Meredith Andrews</a><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Our midwife handed me a packet of papers to sign as I rounded in our nursery. I knew what they were … I have signed so many. Black-and-white reminders of tragedies recently played out in flesh and blood. I set them to the side while I finished my work, planning to attend them later.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKZOqRCfX4pLQteb9qtRJw9s3M_97NqcMH7ijMzb3qbyFZ-gemWvkxGPb6CUQsZCY5NAhSJRaZG8gNTXEClbafwGJNKEhFilFXgyuJPeq2WlTKTsL-BzYVRvp0sHAfrmO_gATONAeRaxnjwZs7IDzY2C-B9wGkWpEFhKnBAl03eLdNlStXaxl_6WbEfw=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKZOqRCfX4pLQteb9qtRJw9s3M_97NqcMH7ijMzb3qbyFZ-gemWvkxGPb6CUQsZCY5NAhSJRaZG8gNTXEClbafwGJNKEhFilFXgyuJPeq2WlTKTsL-BzYVRvp0sHAfrmO_gATONAeRaxnjwZs7IDzY2C-B9wGkWpEFhKnBAl03eLdNlStXaxl_6WbEfw=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /> </span><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Before I could, I was summoned to delivery bed three where a first-time mother struggled to deliver her baby girl. The nurses could no longer find heart tones with the hand-held Doppler and mom was getting tired - her pushes shortening and her face showing obvious exhaustion.</span><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I applied a vacuum extractor to the baby’s head and told her, “Mama - mi pulim i no inap. Yu pus i no inap. Yumi wok-bung, em bai inap.” On the next contraction a limp baby delivered into the bed with deeply stained amniotic fluid. But she had a heartbeat. We cleaned her airway and I set to work giving artificial breaths with a bag. The mask was too big for this unexpectedly premature infant, but I started to see some movements in the chest. All the while I awaited the telltale cry of new life … but it wouldn’t come. I stared into that face, challenged in maintaining a good position of the over-large mask. It stared back with a stunned and pale look. I wondered to myself if this image would be a haunting reminder when I was forced to collects its black-and-white specter in a few days or if it might be a moment that I reflected on with privilege as a new life gained traction in our world.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">After what felt like hours but was likely a few minutes, that little blank-faced baby started to gain color and grimace. A few more breaths and the chest moved in and out on its own. A weak cry finally escaped and I set the bag aside, still praying that I would see that face on rounds in the morning … “Just let this baby see a turn of the earth …”</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizdW1fQRnQTsI8zlkbXW3yK9QHIJKI6S057VEw9p5FngubzsQnlh8MxyF_aVUY6UvjSMd2U-4KtL3R4YAuWc-MtF-bAhR4kA9i7pa7w8VeYAWDnfwCcmd-uUp19SjO4cNCD6cQpctVRRQ6CELHEDP915u_Ki6YiIdnYsNN7Yuf1biz752YxlYkd8s7jA=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizdW1fQRnQTsI8zlkbXW3yK9QHIJKI6S057VEw9p5FngubzsQnlh8MxyF_aVUY6UvjSMd2U-4KtL3R4YAuWc-MtF-bAhR4kA9i7pa7w8VeYAWDnfwCcmd-uUp19SjO4cNCD6cQpctVRRQ6CELHEDP915u_Ki6YiIdnYsNN7Yuf1biz752YxlYkd8s7jA=s320" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /> <br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I resumed caring for the patients in the ward and picked up the chart of a woman whose baby bilum rested next to her. She looked like she was ready to leave, even though she had just had a cesarean delivery 3 days ago. I inquired about her pain, her eating and walking. “Na bebi i stap?” A thin mist layered her eyes as she indicated the bag, “Em dai asde na mipela bai planim tude “. Her deceased little one lay next to us, wrapped and shrouded - perhaps to conceal from the public motor vehicle driver that she was bringing a dead body in the car - to which there is a costly stigma attached. “Mi sorri tru“. Had I paid more attention to those papers in the morning I would have known. The chaplains visited them and prayed. Next patient.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">A
few days ago I was really struggling with the experiences of my patients. I
actually kept a running list of those that I had to tell were dying. In
eight years I had never done that before and I don’t know why I did at
the time, but I brought it home, recalled their faces through prayers,
and felt better. </span><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">The
next day in clinic I watched the back of one of my HIV patients. He had contracted the virus at birth 11 years ago and he left my room
having just been told alongside his grandmother that the virus had
weakened his heart and that he likely wouldn’t see his next birthday. I
felt a surge of helplessness. I want to be honest with my patients. I
want them to understand what the road ahead looks like - and where it
ends (in this world). I give so much bad news. I wondered if what I do
made any difference.</span></span></span> </span><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">As the names on my list stacked up and the myriad ailments reminded me of my inabilities, I actually began to dread each pleasant smile entering my clinic door.</span><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">But there was one I could not avoid.</span><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I wrote about <a href="http://bignembilongyu.blogspot.com/2021/11/higher-and-deeper.html" target="_blank">my experience at Sengapi</a>, one of our rural health centers, at the end of last year. One of our nursing officers there was expecting a baby at the time. About a month after our team left, I received a phone call from her husband. His crackled voice and our short conversation told me Melissa needed to be at Kudjip. She had developed pronounced swelling and headaches in her eighth month of pregnancy. She managed to get a medical evacuation flight out but Issac couldn’t join her because Covid restrictions meant that only patients were allowed to travel on evacuation flights now - no guardians. When she got to Kudjip she seemed alright, but quickly worsened over the next few days. We needed to deliver her baby early. Her husband tried to make it, but the rivers were flooded and he couldn’t cross them. Her surgery went well and a vigorous baby girl went back to the ward while we finished. When I went to check on her, a hooded figure was already next to her baby cot holding her hand. There was Isaac. A new father beaming down on his little girl. MAF had managed an early flight and brought him in the morning hours while we were operating. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBQvfQss51AZ6NQZWOzWLf_0q2dGFRlGQXO7hpBXXlfamjQA-_DYvv6MLIc2eofjRDD9EzhQP-nZADYcZvqURlLnD0PfzbPeks4DTdBfvf18fvScRbYEQwVi0YYiQjHDwahMKHkCoIYVKpoE93TO34IbUuqzRLLz61k_zf85NUBrE-isJCKo8_NMn7-g=s1080" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBQvfQss51AZ6NQZWOzWLf_0q2dGFRlGQXO7hpBXXlfamjQA-_DYvv6MLIc2eofjRDD9EzhQP-nZADYcZvqURlLnD0PfzbPeks4DTdBfvf18fvScRbYEQwVi0YYiQjHDwahMKHkCoIYVKpoE93TO34IbUuqzRLLz61k_zf85NUBrE-isJCKo8_NMn7-g=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /> </span><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Melissa and her baby had a few ups-and-downs for a couple weeks. But over time and with prayer they did well.</span></span></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieK4lj8U-98g3isWC-izEowR0EqALEJHVRFa_h6RW00i5jHW0cDO4tTFbZKxz0fPdjheSBQTMQD1i-WpsW4D1L5aAV21o_WmBm73yKDPQasdJSMVMrt6eWZPzFNisk4u0PNNEGoIqOwk7hxzARVPLI_7Tv0naPQoiRj4HpTfXpEwgKIgWGmhMOy7Uv1w=s1024" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieK4lj8U-98g3isWC-izEowR0EqALEJHVRFa_h6RW00i5jHW0cDO4tTFbZKxz0fPdjheSBQTMQD1i-WpsW4D1L5aAV21o_WmBm73yKDPQasdJSMVMrt6eWZPzFNisk4u0PNNEGoIqOwk7hxzARVPLI_7Tv0naPQoiRj4HpTfXpEwgKIgWGmhMOy7Uv1w=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I have never been able to untangle the great mystery of Gods grace. I have seen and felt that it is infinite and that He spreads it far and wide. Yet somehow none is wasted. As though our world's separation from his perfect and peaceful presence means that a profound Grace, even limitless, is simply sufficient. Abundant and extravagant but not wasteful. When I watch my patient leave the room with an hourglass hanging over their days I wonder how I can see the next one in any way that shares that Grace. Yet somehow it works. Hearts are changed and touched - mine most of all. Not because I have solutions. Not because I am a miracle worker but often because I am not. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></span><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">In the next few days, our new mother and her baby girl stayed in the hospital. The nurses dutifully checked on both of them - making sure they were doing well and that this new life was gaining the foothold it would need. As I put my signature on their papers to leave, I reflected on the great redemption of those moments I spent looking into that apparently lifeless face. It would be tempting to pat myself on the back. We did well, it is true. But we were just vessels of a greater intention. A Grace given that I could not create or bestow - merely share.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzEp2rDiP10toe9FDMOFdCTsq5vItMbJvWOsK4WENE2pNsc36NGEdXf2ZuxsuoknuJQPOciRklC1ch6XugvHq1eX3LhNvB9RG3hRTsiyN6ByYA632kc8UpnRXtvVUYFx2WKlKvdTbrAWdS-gCC8BJU4WO9rpPq786YI_3468AeGpHO3P5L8z_HwiuUYg=s2508" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2356" data-original-width="2508" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzEp2rDiP10toe9FDMOFdCTsq5vItMbJvWOsK4WENE2pNsc36NGEdXf2ZuxsuoknuJQPOciRklC1ch6XugvHq1eX3LhNvB9RG3hRTsiyN6ByYA632kc8UpnRXtvVUYFx2WKlKvdTbrAWdS-gCC8BJU4WO9rpPq786YI_3468AeGpHO3P5L8z_HwiuUYg=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">"</span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">In your nearness I take shelter.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Where you are is where I'm home.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> I have need of only one thing - </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">To be here before your throne" <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">As I enter our nursery I am reminded of God's presence. All entrants must remove their shoes and wash their hands, like approaching a temple. I go back and forth performing my doctor duties as mothers watch anxiously. The room has a sacred quality for me because it is a place in which the most vulnerable are tended. It draws me nearer to Him even when the end result may be a tragic reminder that His redemption is not yet full in our world.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">And although I may struggle to see or feel it at times, at others all it takes is a small spark in a dark place to change the entire landscape. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Perhaps that Grace can bring out bright blooms - even in a garden still fighting the weeds.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="-moz-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwWYOG9fFQ0PLqZkROTC6Gi7wb4Dvt1aYdDWZqTG2570ttPn_K67eUdvsbxD9YD8qN9_G_U17iVTLKhIuQlRWa0jGavz95h5K_zjjUujGndz8b6f2pVhpJ-w29c-UZXf7qMs0b9CDLF0XryZ3Qem4LLpb7DTIXW-SOu0161lzKVd7f6A12jPObMohr_g=s800" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwWYOG9fFQ0PLqZkROTC6Gi7wb4Dvt1aYdDWZqTG2570ttPn_K67eUdvsbxD9YD8qN9_G_U17iVTLKhIuQlRWa0jGavz95h5K_zjjUujGndz8b6f2pVhpJ-w29c-UZXf7qMs0b9CDLF0XryZ3Qem4LLpb7DTIXW-SOu0161lzKVd7f6A12jPObMohr_g=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /> </span><p></p>Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-22182140599211816372021-12-23T14:55:00.002-08:002021-12-23T14:55:23.026-08:00The Brightest Light<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Years of
silence</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Waiting on
a king</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">They thought
they knew who you would be”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">- <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJEaLetb6fI" target="_blank">Behold, Plumb </a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> <br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">On a crisp
morning that heralded the oncoming rainy season, I briefly checked in on the nursery
then left our new resident, Spencer, to conclude while I went to the Emergency
Room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Several patients needed attention:
a skull fracture, a case of terminal cirrhosis, one of my young HIV patients
with heart failure, and a young woman with a ruptured ectopic pregnancy – among
others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finished a procedure and told the
operating room to prepare for the ectopic pregnancy patient before heading back
to the maternity ward to check on Spencer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As I went, Dr. Laura approached me, “There’s a baby that was just born
and isn’t doing well – can you come see if there’s more we can do?”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I arrived
and saw a baby that appeared lifeless being given artificial breaths by Spencer
while staff scrambled to grab suction and oxygen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made a brief correction the bag-mask
technique and checked for a pulse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An
exhausted young mother, Maria, took it in as we scrambled to save her little
one.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br />
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How many
times have I been in that place – walking into an apparent darkness, hoping for
signs of life, but unsure of what to expect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Anticipating the worst yet hoping for a miracle.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8PxQU1_4f-uz-aF0EHhTsuLdHcAivcoKflS8k2xmPTEWaEZ1Ah9qJ5jAIMqVHcT4q7j62ju_O18miwi5_fKRuhkXB_xVAWWCo8XZ-0Q8tKGgqoKgT8kjcVEDT75lRTJWyfnYA8XhoV__i7DB7oU7Nmtj8DJPCsfDsknxoVGNjrE1pDyapq--nWkZrWw=s530" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="516" data-original-width="530" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8PxQU1_4f-uz-aF0EHhTsuLdHcAivcoKflS8k2xmPTEWaEZ1Ah9qJ5jAIMqVHcT4q7j62ju_O18miwi5_fKRuhkXB_xVAWWCo8XZ-0Q8tKGgqoKgT8kjcVEDT75lRTJWyfnYA8XhoV__i7DB7oU7Nmtj8DJPCsfDsknxoVGNjrE1pDyapq--nWkZrWw=w200-h195" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The heart sounded
out at about a hundred beats a minute – a reassuring sign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fluid around the baby had been deeply
stained indicating distress during the labor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Spencer continued bagging while I assembled the laryngoscope to open the
passage into the baby’s voice box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
handed him the instrument and he quickly visualized the vocal cords, suctioning
some secretions away from them, just as the baby began to pick up its own
breathing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few minutes of
coordinated efforts, the baby’s breathing improved and we cut the umbilical
cord to take him into our nursery where he would receive all five interventions
we had to offer.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJYDFpduGeLA2K0YlcxRgi6R2IDDk2J9K03RVdtTXqaxnm1lCs3_V_65mVzSeLkbf0eZx2c4TYztLj-34c7P3HWe1kNWroh58RANMxf-9ElSBA1L1LgX018m9mkEu2y8LrVk4kJstuedTd4XUyAX2nkr51THVM8vwh4xzKFJnJ9wN3NlWQXbCuG76Z0A=s1280" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJYDFpduGeLA2K0YlcxRgi6R2IDDk2J9K03RVdtTXqaxnm1lCs3_V_65mVzSeLkbf0eZx2c4TYztLj-34c7P3HWe1kNWroh58RANMxf-9ElSBA1L1LgX018m9mkEu2y8LrVk4kJstuedTd4XUyAX2nkr51THVM8vwh4xzKFJnJ9wN3NlWQXbCuG76Z0A=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /> </span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“So we pray
we ask and seek</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When the
answers don’t come easily</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And when
they’re not what we expect</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Help us to
trust you even then.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Roughly two
thousand years ago, a young woman labored with her first child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The circumstances surrounding his birth were
incredible and, to many around her, unbelievable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What seemed to others a mark of darkness, she
cherished as hope in a miracle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One that
would change the entire world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When the
moment came, did the delivery go smoothly?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not much else in their journey had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I imagine hours of intense pain, focus, anxiety, anticipation, and fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did he cry right away or were there moments of
doubt and concern – awaiting those first and all-important breaths?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But those breaths came - and the life that arose
out of them marched an undeniable path through history and brought long-awaited
redemption.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So often I
forget that what we see in the daily miracle of childbirth here was once lived
out in a Divine way centuries ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Advent
helps to remind me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That the Creator
would choose this path to enter our world – enjoying and enduring the full
human experience so that we would have a personal God who knows us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The brightest light, born in a familiar and
common darkness.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhMFdg5UdqAHkUBtZ5LV799QVKkb8jkPTUABxBTJtUD3ThecZZfx2MSVD2RF3fppz7nkBw1qqfkGHve5bq00QaJpVlk20dByYSKs_eXXHBt2WXp0YYmjmnFdjYqzMGvz5QAlY7r8bignrbLcWxqicXFE-KkOGpjO_lMNykwyodIqR_cRzZSxHaolfgkwQ=s640" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhMFdg5UdqAHkUBtZ5LV799QVKkb8jkPTUABxBTJtUD3ThecZZfx2MSVD2RF3fppz7nkBw1qqfkGHve5bq00QaJpVlk20dByYSKs_eXXHBt2WXp0YYmjmnFdjYqzMGvz5QAlY7r8bignrbLcWxqicXFE-KkOGpjO_lMNykwyodIqR_cRzZSxHaolfgkwQ=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Over some
days, Maria’s baby experienced seizures and side-effects from the medicines we
used to control them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His young mother dutifully
attended to him – changing him, cleaning him, praying over him, and showing an
impressively calm resolve through eyes that betrayed a simmering doubt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she trusted us – and the weight of that trust
sits with me even now.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Five days
into his life, he stopped having seizures and began to drink the small
amounts we offered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the next three
days, we were able to remove the various tubes administering our treatments and
send him to his mother’s bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon
after, she placed him into a string bilum and took him home, walking her
newborn through the crowded marketplace like so many others - with those around
her oblivious to the living miracle she held.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Unlikely
joy</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">anticipated
hope</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Give us
your peace</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Undeserved
love</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Such
relentless grace</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">You are our
king”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> <br /></span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><style>@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:swiss;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536859905 -1073732485 9 0 511 0;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0cm;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-84943388618648271142021-11-18T13:26:00.002-08:002021-11-18T13:26:50.171-08:00Higher and deeper<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"> <span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“I could
just sit and wait for all Your goodness, hope to feel Your presence.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I could
just stay right where I am and hope to feel You, hope to feel something again”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">-All Sons
& Daughters</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The daily
healings and hope at Kudjip have flavored the last eight years well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of the challenges of life in the
highlands have become character-building inconveniences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The patients’ struggles have tempered my
naïve ambitions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a way, what once
seemed exotic has become a bit routine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So,
I looked forward to getting into some of the last places on Earth with a team
that included our newest OB/Gyn doctor, her husband, and one of our maintenance
staff.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0tvGF6q03xY/YZa7GZpfOlI/AAAAAAAAB8E/GQfdeCdBdSkxDJwqIGX_CqiZbBsTV5GSACLcBGAsYHQ/s908/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-11-08%2Bat%2B11.58.19.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="766" data-original-width="908" height="270" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0tvGF6q03xY/YZa7GZpfOlI/AAAAAAAAB8E/GQfdeCdBdSkxDJwqIGX_CqiZbBsTV5GSACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-11-08%2Bat%2B11.58.19.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As the MAF
Caravan started circling I thought, “Where are we going?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had been captivated looking into the
unfolding valleys of jungle, but I certainly didn’t notice anywhere that looked
like a place to land an airplane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the
second loop, it appeared in front of us – a level and well-cut stretch of
ground with a few tin-roof buildings on either side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were in Sengapi – perhaps one of the most
remote health centers in the world.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“I could
hold on to who I am and never let You change me from the inside.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I could be
safe here in Your arms and never leave home, never let these walls down”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">On the
first night I under-estimated the change in altitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I woke up a few times, clicked on my solar
lantern, piled on more clothes or blankets, and tossed and turned my way to
dawn.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9KLcPRvbuWg/YZa78Pd81sI/AAAAAAAAB8M/l94_IoDEIhQMJj-UltMmmcYl6cLfwIKowCLcBGAsYHQ/s2820/IMG_4891.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1115" data-original-width="2820" height="254" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9KLcPRvbuWg/YZa78Pd81sI/AAAAAAAAB8M/l94_IoDEIhQMJj-UltMmmcYl6cLfwIKowCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h254/IMG_4891.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We began
our days with devotions and teaching while waiting for patients to come down
from the surrounding ridges.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mn_25IBVBOA/YZa8P1Pp_-I/AAAAAAAAB8U/G_hIxATsyM0Cyvd6Tn41VIN2wTnIlANVQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4844.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mn_25IBVBOA/YZa8P1Pp_-I/AAAAAAAAB8U/G_hIxATsyM0Cyvd6Tn41VIN2wTnIlANVQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_4844.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A young man
hiked over the hills and arrived mid-afternoon looking weak and
uncomfortable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once the rag over his arm
was removed, it was obvious why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A small
sore in his finger grew into an impressive abscess of his hand and forearm over
some days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With a high temperature, high
heart rate and slightly low blood pressure it was clear the infection quickly
overwhelmed his bloodstream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We gave him
IV fluids and antibiotics and prepared him for a minor surgery to drain the
infection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Thankfully I had packed a
few vials of light anesthetic with me).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
a relatively quick procedure, we admitted him he did well. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8NNBy5uD8GY/YZa9oq1oa3I/AAAAAAAAB8c/4lMe8ArNScEZ-rUQU0puMkY14hAMja3tgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_5149.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8NNBy5uD8GY/YZa9oq1oa3I/AAAAAAAAB8c/4lMe8ArNScEZ-rUQU0puMkY14hAMja3tgCLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h240/IMG_5149.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The
community had gathered on the lawn outside the clinic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Isaac, what topic do you want me to talk
about?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Coronavirus – they are
scared.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave a brief overview of the
virus and the importance of the vaccination, then opened it up for
questions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A local leader stood up: “We
are just bush people, and we don’t know about this, but we have heard a lot of
things about it.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He went on to inquire
about several of the common misconceptions surrounding the vaccine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were right off the pages of FaceBook …
likely propagated into the remote areas of Papua New Guinea through simple
word-of-mouth by unwitting individuals, susceptible to assuming that anything
they read on a smartphone must be smart.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Afterward,
our health staff took the lead by receiving their COVID jabs and several
community leaders came forward wanting to be immunized as well.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“And I will
be yours, Lord – I will be yours for all my life.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So let your
mercy light the path before me.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r4-VC29n4oU/YZa_1o4gKsI/AAAAAAAAB8k/0NatMhke0T8UzLgEMcH0gW9cRSauqRTNwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4879.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r4-VC29n4oU/YZa_1o4gKsI/AAAAAAAAB8k/0NatMhke0T8UzLgEMcH0gW9cRSauqRTNwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4879.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">At the far
end of the clinic building was the gently but appropriately used 4-bed
inpatient ward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A woman slept there but
stayed outside most of the time – because of a personal preference or to
minimize odor, I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had
noticed abnormal bleeding and presented to Sengapi where she was presumed to be
anemic from a pelvic mass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fearing the
worst, the nurses there asked her to await our team, assuming we could provide
some answers.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Using some
new and impressively portable ultrasound technology, we were able to confirm
that she had a cancerous mass in her uterus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In an ideal situation, this could be removed surgically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of the delay in diagnosis, the tumor
had now spread and involved other internal organs – meaning surgery would cause
her great pain and fail to cure her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
broke the news to her and her husband, prayed with them, and entrusted her
ongoing care to the staff and local pastor.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qN_dbrREel4/YZbAO7Rf_SI/AAAAAAAAB8s/LrnhlLGpQLUEG1Jh1dPrqzJmTe1BP0uZgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4859.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qN_dbrREel4/YZbAO7Rf_SI/AAAAAAAAB8s/LrnhlLGpQLUEG1Jh1dPrqzJmTe1BP0uZgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4859.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">About a
dozen ladies had queued to see Dr. Laura.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m certain that for each of them it was the first “well-woman exam”
they ever received.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Laura was able to
bring a new device for treating cervical pre-cancers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She discovered some worrying lesions and
saved five lives by being able to provide instant therapy – likely preventing
the devastating scenario that our patient in the ward now suffered from.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“But You
have called me higher – You have called me deeper.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And I will
go where you will lead me, Lord.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We had
already packed our bags, knowing that we were departing that day but unsure of
the exact time due to a heavy but quickly lifting fog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a devotion prepared to share with the
staff that I looked forward to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I
walked up the airstrip to get a better signal, my phone rang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The MAF operations director greeted me
warmly, “the plane should be overhead in a few minutes.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As if on cue, the sound of an engine crept
over the ridge in front of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
collected our bags, loaded the plane, said farewells and in what felt like a
bit of a whirlwind I was back in the air heading home to Kudjip.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Wnw0yIKDc1M/YZbDylHbwmI/AAAAAAAAB88/rm-EVHRqERALZY1ek3p5cMYgz3qqqNdeQCLcBGAsYHQ/s3160/IMG_5260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="3160" height="202" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Wnw0yIKDc1M/YZbDylHbwmI/AAAAAAAAB88/rm-EVHRqERALZY1ek3p5cMYgz3qqqNdeQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h202/IMG_5260.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Now as I
walk down the corridors of the hospital, I see faces around me in a slightly
different light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What journey led them
to us?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now those little hand-written
scraps of “referral letters” from outlying aid posts carry a new gravitas.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Jesus said,
“to the end of the earth” - and I think He meant it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I admit I am guilty of thinking I am already
there sometimes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I suspect my tendency
is to redefine His phrase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I did my
bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am already in a tough place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ends of the earth are coming to me
anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The work I am doing is sending
others there.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All very legitimate
points - but positions to be held and scrutinized in fear and trembling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Am I, too, willing to go higher and deeper if
I am called there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pray that I can let
His mercy light that path before me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0w5Dzxdwocc/YZbDNdRDNbI/AAAAAAAAB80/Lp4HiVk34ZslSNEKiOiS7q9eELCjqJvDgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_5210.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0w5Dzxdwocc/YZbDNdRDNbI/AAAAAAAAB80/Lp4HiVk34ZslSNEKiOiS7q9eELCjqJvDgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_5210.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><style>@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:swiss;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536859905 -1073697537 9 0 511 0;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0cm;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-17799226236404332082021-10-24T20:05:00.000-07:002021-10-24T20:05:37.931-07:00Broken and scattered<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1">“All these pieces broken and scattered</span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">In mercy gathered, mended and whole.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">Empty-handed but not forsaken,</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">I’ve been set free”</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">-<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fiyYoe678yI" target="_blank">Broken Vessels </a><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">I regretfully collected some papers from the Surgery office. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They contained the records of a boy we will call Will that I had cared for last week … a boy whose family was now grieving over his under-sized grave in the north of our valley.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-align: left;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">Will presented to the emergency room with a distended abdomen and vomiting. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The family said he had been like that for over a week. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With the health system (including Kudjip) getting derailed by a wave of COVID in recent weeks, this was the first chance they had to seek care for him. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Though he was awake, it was obvious that he struggled to remain so. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On our pediatrics ward, our nurses were placing a tube into his stomach to drain the contents there and giving intravenous fluids to support his circulation. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Blood tests and an X-ray revealed an intestinal blockage and, surprisingly, a pneumothorax - probably from an infection eroding into his chest wall.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-align: left;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">Dr. Ben came to the hospital promptly when he detected the concern in my voice. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We both have children about Will's age. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A drainage tube placed in the chest removed foul-smelling fluid and a significant amount of air. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We placed tubes about everywhere we could - to relieve his struggling body and to monitor the effects of our treatments. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He never really improved and less than a day later he died in spite of our efforts.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1"> <br /></span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IfY8dfnVF8Y/TdzhVah_3cI/AAAAAAAAAC8/smOcaSatje0vHLoSJwVr6RFN2VTja2CwwCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_1582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IfY8dfnVF8Y/TdzhVah_3cI/AAAAAAAAAC8/smOcaSatje0vHLoSJwVr6RFN2VTja2CwwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_1582.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-align: left;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">I went into the nursery and discovered that a premature baby I had been caring for had also passed away overnight, not unexpectedly. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Susan's first twin had died last week, suffering from ailments all-to-common for tiny babies in this setting and her second baby had deteriorated over time. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I looked over the other dozen babies under my care - all improving, all feeding, all growing, some going home to grateful and relieved families.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-align: left;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">After finishing rounds in the nursery and pediatric wards I met our resident, Dr. Sheila, in the operating room for a cesarean section. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maggie's baby was “sotwin” and couldn’t tolerate her labor. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although she was only 8 months pregnant, we felt her little one had a good chance to do well if delivered. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dr. Sheila performed the majority of the procedure as I assisted, and a vigorous little boy went to his “bubu” (grandmother) while we closed Margret’s incision and her anesthetic wore off.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-align: left;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">Not long after, we were asked to see Anna - a fifth-time mother who had presented the day before with some mild contractions and edema. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A scan revealed twin babies nearly term but with the second one “slip-across” or in transverse lie. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Her blood pressures were severely elevated, a dangerous condition called pre-eclampsia. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Blood tests showed that her kidney function suffered as well which could jeopardize her ability to receive the resuscitation and medications she needed or to tolerate surgery. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We debated the best way to manage her and decided that we could attempt a vaginal delivery. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When the moment came, she did well. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Our midwife delivered the first baby, I guided the second baby into a good position and Dr. Sheila broke water and delivered a second small but vigorous baby girl.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-align: left;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">Before leaving the hospital for dinner, I went to our COVID ward to follow-up on Wendy. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Wendy has worked at our hospital for about thirty years. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Her presence on station is a mainstay of our community. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In recent years she has struggled with some health problems. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She was one of the first to receive our COVID immunizations when they became available earlier this year. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Six days ago when I saw her in the emergency room with shortness of breath I was worried. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Testing confirmed that she had contracted COVID in the midst of our current spike in cases, likely from the delta variant. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>While she looked good for a couple days, she later de-compensated at home and was promptly brought to our emergency department. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had heard a reassuring update from Dr. Erin - but wanted to see how Wendy was doing today. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When I arrived my concern rose immediately. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Wendy was struggling - to breathe, to speak, to sit and to recognize those around her. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We changed out concentrators (recently mended by our amazing maintenance team), adjusted flow rates, added a couple of medicines. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Esther, the kids and some of our extended missionary family gathered on the porch outside our COVID ward and prayed together. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Wendy’s daughter, another of our nurses and also suffering from COVID, joined us in lifting up this faithful servant into the hands of God. I know that whatever comes next is beyond me.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BRgJL2mWc-I/YXYYtbdkfOI/AAAAAAAAB7M/X1YVE99TxRwAXkSHsSVnjugJuolds876ACLcBGAsYHQ/s758/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-10-25%2Bat%2B12.32.16.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="758" data-original-width="638" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BRgJL2mWc-I/YXYYtbdkfOI/AAAAAAAAB7M/X1YVE99TxRwAXkSHsSVnjugJuolds876ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-10-25%2Bat%2B12.32.16.png" width="269" /></a></div><br /><span class="s1"><br /></span><p></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-align: left;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">“You take our failure, You take our weakness,</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">You set your treasure in jars of clay.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">So take this heart, Lord - I’ll be your vessel -</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">The world to see Your life in me”</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-align: left;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">During our recent furlough one of the most common questions I got went something like, “How can you do that? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It must be so difficult to see that kind of suffering.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Some will ask “How can we help you in that?”</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1"> </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">There is a renewed interest in caring for the spiritual and emotional health of missionaries in difficult situations and I think it is important. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The thoughts, prayers, words and deeds of our supporters give a palpable strength to our ongoing efforts here. In attempting to be whole and healthy to best serve others I have heard something like, “You can’t pour from an empty cup.”</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">That is certainly true and I have had to be deliberate in setting aside times of rest, rejuvenation and fun to maintain myself and my family in this environment.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">But I have also grown to appreciate the workings of the Holy Spirit in spite of my own weakness.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1"> </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">There are times when I am just empty-handed. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A jar of clay with pieces cracking off and scattering.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">But there is a treasure in there: God’s heart for a broken world, which awaits its redemption through the groaning of the lost and dying.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1"> <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span> </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">Perhaps, sometimes, my job is not to gather the pieces but to let the glow of that treasure spill out the cracks. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maybe my tears can be redeemed when joined with the heartaches of the vulnerable and desperate around me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As I read the Gospels, it seems that those places are precisely where Jesus brought his mercy - mending and making His children whole.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="s1"> </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">“I can see You now -</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">I can see the love in Your eyes,</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">Laying Yourself down</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1">Raising up the broken to life”</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1"> </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wSgMM6vMH6g/YXYY6LhjENI/AAAAAAAAB7Q/YjapMwE7eoI5iBVZmar6iu-DeJuRwi2ogCLcBGAsYHQ/s2015/69206960_10161909774425136_4194938306540077056_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2015" data-original-width="1511" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wSgMM6vMH6g/YXYY6LhjENI/AAAAAAAAB7Q/YjapMwE7eoI5iBVZmar6iu-DeJuRwi2ogCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/69206960_10161909774425136_4194938306540077056_o.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></div><span class="s1"><br /> </span><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="s1"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-align: left;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p>Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-63558315515899400242021-09-25T00:58:00.001-07:002021-09-25T03:45:22.887-07:00The fairest Son<div style="text-align: center;">"As we walked through fields of green,</div><div style="text-align: center;">it was the fairest sun I'd ever seen.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I was broke, I was on my knees.</div><div style="text-align: center;">You said yes as I said please"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avT0Rj50130" target="_blank">-Mumford & Sons</a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">"Dokta Mark - we need you in the O.T." </div><p style="text-align: center;">"Auntie" Margret has worked at our highlands mission hospital for about forty years. Why I hesitated when she called is beyond me. I had a rough night, had just turned in my thesis and was preparing for a brief nap before going to our high school to teach. I wasn't on call and I knew we had surgical back-up at the hospital - why was I being summoned?</p><p style="text-align: center;">"Dokta Daniel needs you - we have a complicated C-section and she is pouring out blood."</p><p style="text-align: center;">I felt a bit of a jolt of adrenaline, grabbed some scrubs and made my way up. Why did I delay when a colleague needed me? I have been that position, too.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Throughout the past year and a bit, the demands on our mission doctors escalated dramatically. We shouldered more and more - chops, trauma, difficult obstetrics cases, tropical disease - without the usual supply of volunteers to ease the load. Funding issues weighed us down as well. Over time, every call from the hospital felt like another straw on this camel's back. We were down to the bare bones and were carrying the same the load. Though I felt moments of immense satisfaction during that time, it left a scar.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">"I have no strength from which to speak - when you sit me down and see I'm weak."</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Then earlier this year, multiple prayers were answered. Doctors arrived - some for a few weeks, some who have moved here to join the ministry and bolster our depleted ranks. Two new PNG doctors joined us to serve and receive training. I remember distinctly: for the first time in months, I went to our clinic and tried to use our ultrasound machine but there was another doctor using it that I needed to wait on. I teared up while my patient and I waited - I'm sure she was very confused. It felt like a renaissance. Now, the load is much the same - but the shoulders of those lifting it are broader in number and united in community.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Our surgical resident was busy in a bowel resection when I got to the hospital, so I urgently made my way to the operating room where Daniel was having trouble. I almost instantly teared up again at the sight that met my eyes. Another colleague had received a similar summons and arrived ahead of me. She was scrubbed in helping Daniel. Three young physicians who had responded to God's call and the world's crushing needs were diligently working to save a mother's life. Dr. Daniel, Dr. Laura and Dr. Spencer had each served at Kudjip for a brief time in the past as students or residents, and all joined us this year in the midst of one of our greatest seasons of need.</p><p style="text-align: center;">As I looked around them into the operating field, I could tell that they were making progress in a good direction. I didn't scrub in. This woman's trouble, her very life - which would have been another agonizing call just a year ago - was in the capable hands of three new doctors who now shouldered the weight of this ministry with us.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-urDhAH4WaUE/YU71akr2vMI/AAAAAAAAB6k/XUHf4EaS33oL_P0KWetVQgA6iz4MuJqtACLcBGAsYHQ/s1742/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-09-25%2Bat%2B19.59.56.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="1742" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-urDhAH4WaUE/YU71akr2vMI/AAAAAAAAB6k/XUHf4EaS33oL_P0KWetVQgA6iz4MuJqtACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h213/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-09-25%2Bat%2B19.59.56.png" width="400" /></a></div><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-prWsWVn7zz0/YU7RF6kvodI/AAAAAAAAB6E/ISjfKqPouMAvqytIvZAYzF589mei_8GywCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/4dfde775-d503-4739-bb47-cb52fd6feccb.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">For more than a year and a half, our little rose bush has struggled. It is long and spindly and still growing but has produced nothing but thorns for a while. There had been times that I felt we should just dig it up and get rid of it. Why a rose bush that only made thorns? Earlier this week, as Esther and I walked down the road in the evening she pointed out a new bud that was just beginning to open up. As I admired a blush of pink petals pushing their way through, I noticed three smaller green buds that would soon turn this thorny plant it into a florid tapestry. All that time, there was a life beneath the thorns waiting for an appropriate time to bloom.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K579EIWS6xI/YU7SgVY6QXI/AAAAAAAAB6M/4NM2F141JPg3rnx2Wa5rSygi5XWG-xJpgCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/242657613_10158672464516589_4069112981964271098_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K579EIWS6xI/YU7SgVY6QXI/AAAAAAAAB6M/4NM2F141JPg3rnx2Wa5rSygi5XWG-xJpgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/242657613_10158672464516589_4069112981964271098_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;">At times I have really struggled to understand God's timing. Why don't we get funding sooner? Why don't we get more doctors quickly? Why all this waiting? </p><p style="text-align: center;">There are thorns everywhere without a rose in sight. </p><p style="text-align: center;">But I realize that there is a difference between laboring to see God's redemptive work in the world in a patient way and hastily pushing through my own agenda on my own strength. One could tear out something of great potential. The other could bring impressive beauty from a seeming heap of ashes.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">"We will be who we are,</p><p style="text-align: center;">You will heal our scars,</p><p style="text-align: center;">Sadness will be far away.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Do not let my fickle flesh go to waste,</p><p style="text-align: center;">As it keeps my heart and soul in its place.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I will love with urgency but not with haste"</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4qXZu866-8s/YU7S9HnCQII/AAAAAAAAB6U/m4wmlTXspRElpAdZkGHABTEaKdtTN5XKgCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/242821316_10158672464481589_648002169502512087_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4qXZu866-8s/YU7S9HnCQII/AAAAAAAAB6U/m4wmlTXspRElpAdZkGHABTEaKdtTN5XKgCLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/242821316_10158672464481589_648002169502512087_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-81944880635990684582021-06-02T13:38:00.002-07:002021-06-02T13:43:43.829-07:00No expeditious road<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">I moved through the crowded emergency room toward bed 4 where a young man lay
with his leg wedged in improvised pillows made of tattered old clothes. He was
disoriented and his eyes drifted in and out of focus. His young mother,
similarly clothed in a torn second-hand t-shirt, wasn’t sure exactly how old he
was but I guessed 11 or 12. </p><p style="text-align: center;">For a brief moment I thought, “We should be playing
soccer together with my son.” </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> But the impressively swollen leg made that
impossible, and his delirium told me that the infection in his leg was rapidly
progressing through his bloodstream. With a crowded emergency room and
outpatient clinic still full of patients to be seen, I hastily told the mother
he would need powerful medicines through a “blood-tube” in his arm and to stay
in the hospital. She looked a bit lost - as though she had never seen a
permanent building before – but there was an implicit (and terribly beautiful)
trust in her eyes as she committed her son to my care. I grabbed a nursing
student to begin the IV antibiotics, wrote orders for an X-ray and made my way
back to the clinic. </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">The noise of a helicopter made me pause. Time to get changed
into scrubs. Our provincial health team notified us earlier that a sick mother
was being transported due to delivery complications. As I went to delivery bed
number 1, our Papua New Guinean medical resident Sheila was already working with
the nurses on emergency stabilization. Her lifeless form was pale and her eyes
she searched the room for anything familiar, but quickly rolled into the back of
her head again. While she wasn’t actively bleeding now, she had been for the
past 3 days when her baby was delivered at her home in one of the most remote
corners of the globe. A nearby aid post attempted to deliver the placenta the
next day but the cord broke, oozing blood. After another day’s journey to the
health center, the nursing officer at a small Anglican clinic at Koinambe
managed to radio out for a helicopter and she arrived at Kudjip clinging to life
with a hemoglobin concentration of 2.8 g/dL [normal range 12-14]. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Dr. Sheila
aggressively resuscitated her with IV fluids and 2 units of emergency type “O”
blood in addition to strong antibiotics. But we knew that shortly we would need
to remove the decaying afterbirth and pray that she responded.
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yeb9Sdu3ppQ/YLarHixQ3cI/AAAAAAAAB1I/ovyT8hynf7Ev0KbHNmq8nhCLcmws3pa0ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4061.HEIC" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yeb9Sdu3ppQ/YLarHixQ3cI/AAAAAAAAB1I/ovyT8hynf7Ev0KbHNmq8nhCLcmws3pa0ACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_4061.HEIC" width="400" /></a>
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Our family of six will soon attempt the journey back to the US for a short
furlough after one of the most grueling terms of service I imagine a medical
missionary has faced. And once again, I am terrified. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Due to airline-imposed
restrictions, we will need to pull off 18 negative COVID tests between the six
of us to actually board our planes to get home. Airports are skeletons, planes
are devoid of food service (never helpful with 4 young mouths to feed) and we
are praying that we don’t land ourselves in a traveler’s purgatory of hotel
quarantine. But none of those are the reasons I am scared to go back to my
passport country. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">During our first furlough in the US some years ago, Esther
phoned me to ask if I could stop at a store on the way home to pick up a few
items (milk, butter and chocolate chips if I remember correctly – it sounded
promising). We had only been in the country for a day, and I was still
convincing myself to drive in the right lane. I got to the store and found my
purchases but thought I would pick up band-aids. One step into the pharmacy
department and I quickly turned around, made my way through the self-check-out,
then bustled to the car and stared through tearing eyes at my dashboard for
about 10 minutes before going home. The much-anticipated cookies helped calm me
down. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Now, as I glance into the pages of news sites or Facebook, I am similarly
stunned. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Just a year ago, those pages were flooded with the gestures of
sympathetic people throwing together programs and projects to help amidst this
new COVID “pandemic”. Health workers were applauded, meals were delivered to
them. Everyone was encouraged to “look for the helpers” as Mr. Rogers taught us.
I remember feeling a strong sense of global solidarity. Finally, the affluent
world is having their eyes opened to the kind of reality that affects the 2/3rds
world every day. Maybe this is the moment in which those nations decide to
embrace the places of the world struggling to keep children and mothers alive
against the miserable odds created by their poverty. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">But the vaccine arrived and
is now available to pretty much any (rich) person who will take it … so we are
instead trying to decide if our pets need to get COVID vaccines while opening
clubs, bars, restaurants and movie theaters. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Don’t get me wrong. I hope to enjoy
some of our old favorite stomping grounds while getting a bit of a break and
seeing family. I just hope I don’t say or do anything to get myself into too
much trouble. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">“I could tell you my adventures – but it’s no use going back to
yesterday, because I was a different person then.” -Lewis Carroll </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">After two
units of blood, Dr. Sheila and I addressed our now conscious mother. I explained
to her and her cousin (the only relative that lived nearby) that she was
incredibly sick – her placenta was rotting inside of her sending a cascade of
infection throughout her body. Without removing it she would die. If we removed
it, she had a chance to live. They agreed to go ahead. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">We saw the desperation
melt from her face as the anesthetic took hold. Over the next grueling hour, my
resident and I removed necrotic afterbirth and repaired lacerations in the birth
canal as the septic smell assaulted our senses. Once finished, she returned to
the ward with additional blood transfusions hanging and an anxious family member
praying her through the night. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">My young patient with an infected leg looked
worse the next day. His X-ray did not show infected bone, so I drained fluid
from his joint and attempted to find a purulent pocket to aspirate in his leg –
without success. I hoped that whatever germ was running amuck would respond to
our antibiotics. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">As the on-call doctor, I drifted from the emergency room to the
labor and delivery unit throughout the day. Reducing and casting limbs broken in
heated tribal fights, counseling cancer patients, failing to resuscitate a
newborn baby, repairing difficult birth trauma, admitting a COVID patient,
completing miscarriages that threatened to take a mother’s life, balancing feeds
and fluids in babies with malnutrition, and myriad other now-routine tasks that
would seem quite exotic to many doctors in my home country. Lives were saved and
lost. Prayers were said. Hearts were changed (including mine). </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">“There is no
expeditious road to pack and label men for God, and save them by the
barrel-load” -Francis Thompson </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Like many young Christian physicians, I set out
feeling like I had been called into this. I felt that God’s broken world could
use the efforts of more doctors attempting to bring Christ’s redemptive healing
and hope in the deepest dark. I have come to realize that, while I am called to
be a minister of medicine, none of my patients are called to be sick. They are
created to be whole – redeemed and rescued out of ferociously hostile enemy
territory. While I cannot provide that, I can partner with the One who does. Not
because I am a miraculous healer, but because I am not. I have not, yet,
physically restored anyone with a simple touch or a word. But I have touched and
spoken into some of the deepest miseries I could imagine. And each time I see
that He’s already there. At times giving strength for the groaning road of
restoration. At others, providing a safe haven for tears. But there in all.
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TMzaanwuDac/YLargvATNyI/AAAAAAAAB1Q/kUesBBn-rzkePGpsITYx-oozhehyWimwwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4077.HEIC" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TMzaanwuDac/YLargvATNyI/AAAAAAAAB1Q/kUesBBn-rzkePGpsITYx-oozhehyWimwwCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_4077.HEIC" /></a>
</div>
Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-55400758704664046702021-01-07T23:03:00.000-08:002021-01-07T23:03:03.479-08:00The Hope You Hold<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">"Awake my soul to the hope You hold, Your grace is all I need."</p><p style="text-align: center;">-<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-i-sIjswD94" target="_blank">Mercy Mercy</a><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">As we waved another doctor off of Kudjip station I thought about the days, weeks or months ahead. </p><p style="text-align: center;">The damage of the Coronavirus pandemic on our mission so far has been decidedly collateral. While we have established triage protocols and increased our use of PPE in specific areas of the hospital, our entire highlands region has <i>confirmed</i> only 28 cases at the conclusion of 2020 - none fatal.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Meanwhile, the burden from pediatric pneumonias and diarrheas, vaccine-preventable-disease, premature newborns, trauma, difficult obstetric deliveries, HIV, tuberculosis, typhoid, cancer and myriad other ailments continues. The workload which was previously managed by our missionary and PNG physicians and supplemental volunteer doctors has now been funneled onto a dwindling "Gideon's Army."</p><p style="text-align: center;">As part of that ongoing effort, we are adjusting the workflow so that the most demanding cases, surgeries and deliveries are reserved for the doctors. While it empowers our nurses, it means that nearly every patient I see, every day, might be facing a life-or-death condition that I am supposed to help them with. And I know my powers and my profession are limited in the light of such miseries. Even my prayers are wearing thin.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">"Heaven's story breathing life into my bones -</p><p style="text-align: center;">Spirit lift me, from this wasteland lead me home" </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">As I scuffled from the emergency department to the clinic to the delivery rooms on Thursday morning, I was interrupted by our labor and delivery nurse still wearing bloody gloves (never a good sign) nearly running across the corridor to find me. "Dr. Mark, mipela nidim yu!"</p><p style="text-align: center;">I entered delivery bay 1 and saw blood-soaked clothes and bedding being removed while IV lines were hung. Unable to palpate a radial pulse to match what I heard through my stethoscope, I asked the woman her name. A feeble voice answered, "Maria." So she was semi-conscious and knew who she was - better than I had thought. Her heart rate pounded out at 130 beats per minute and the blood pressure cuff could detect nothing.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Maria had delivered her seventh child in the bush of the Jimi Valley - one of the furthest habitats in the world. Her placenta did not deliver and she bled for hours until she could manage transportation to Kudjip.</p><p style="text-align: center;">As we rushed to get unmatched type O negative blood for a transfusion I hastily scribbled some orders for antibiotics and went to retrieve the anesthesia and instruments I would need to remove the placenta and stop her bleeding.</p><p style="text-align: center;">With the assistance of our midwifery student I removed the afterbirth and gave strong medications to contract the weakened uterus. A unit of blood infused during the procedure. The cuff read out a systolic blood pressure of 80 millimeters of mercury ... my heart nearly sang. As I left to attend to the outpatient department patients, I hoped that we did enough to prevent seven new PNG orphans.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Our senior clinic nurse said that they had already used up their quota of doctor clinic visits for the day but people were upset. I looked at the line of patients and charts still awaiting me and said that I would work as quickly as possible, but if they were truly emergencies to send them to the ER and I could see them when I finished in the outpatient clinic.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W1fwyc8827c/X_f_LCZ6HHI/AAAAAAAABt8/X0-sa1vp3lUciUk5eb9uDZXYadw34NQnQCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/HospitalQueu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W1fwyc8827c/X_f_LCZ6HHI/AAAAAAAABt8/X0-sa1vp3lUciUk5eb9uDZXYadw34NQnQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/HospitalQueu.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">An hour or so later I picked up the record book of a man named Gideon. He had paid no physician fees. He had not been entered in the list of patients to see the doctor. But his wasted frame sat on bed 7 of the ER and I immediately knew his diagnosis. After sedating a pediatric patient for our nursing student to repair a laceration and setting a fractured bone, I walked Gideon to the now-closed outpatient ultrasound room. A quick scan confirmed my suspicions - a massive hepatoma, a slowly growing liver tumor, now consuming his body and impeding his ability to eat.</p><p style="text-align: center;">We took some time to discuss his illness. I answered his questions. I reassured them that our medicines could help his pain, but would do nothing to cure him. </p><p style="text-align: center;">What was his faith like? Gideon and his watchman, Glen, had been baptized in the church as kids, but walked away. Gideon engaged when I shared that we would all face a burial in this ground ... but that a new life awaited those who trusted in Christ's redemptive sacrifice at Calvary. His misty eyes told me that he wanted and needed to hear that. </p><p style="text-align: center;">They both prayed to receive Christ in that moment. </p><p style="text-align: center;">And we all agreed to place whatever the next steps were in His hands.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">"Now I find my life in Yours -</p><p style="text-align: center;">My eyes on Your name."</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BRVhQrsqUfA/X_gDXaHSrAI/AAAAAAAABuY/OU4jqSBcUHYTRQy9YBF0CnwewdjpeWVywCLcBGAsYHQ/s2015/69206960_10161909774425136_4194938306540077056_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2015" data-original-width="1511" height="419" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BRVhQrsqUfA/X_gDXaHSrAI/AAAAAAAABuY/OU4jqSBcUHYTRQy9YBF0CnwewdjpeWVywCLcBGAsYHQ/w314-h419/69206960_10161909774425136_4194938306540077056_o.jpg" width="314" /></a></div><br />Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-86671253937295284692020-11-20T13:35:00.001-08:002020-11-20T14:04:12.414-08:00Eyes to serve<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">"Keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn." </p><p style="text-align: center;">-<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZVVXGuurXbA" target="_blank">Below my feet</a>, Mumford & Sons</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">My colleague, Dr. Dave, approached me as I concluded my rounds on medical ward to get some guidance on a lady who had just come from the Jimi valley. After just a few words I knew we were in trouble. I wrapped up seeing my patients, made a few notes for the nurses, and prayed with our team before going down to the maternity unit.</p><p style="text-align: left;">In Labor Bed 6, a pale and nearly lifeless woman breathed fast while Dr. Dave oversaw nurses placing IV lines and starting antibiotics and then went to notify our surgical team that we needed the theatre ready urgently. Her unborn baby had become obstructed in the uterus. After strong contractions for a day, a hand and the umbilical cord presented through the birth canal and the baby asphyxiated. </p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">"And all I knew was steeped in blackened holes." </p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">As a blood transfusion was prepared and nurses placed a foley catheter, I asked where the woman's husband was. They had just arrived - having traversed some of the most hazardous roads on the planet - and he sat nervously on bed D-5, the only man in a sea of young women and speaking only a little of the lingua franca, Tok Pijin. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I explained, as best I could, that his child had died inside his wife's womb and that she was also in significant danger of dying as well. "Mi laik karim i go katim na givim chance we em bai inap laip yet" - "I want to do an operation on her to give her a chance to live." He agreed and the team prepared for surgery. I went back to her bed and uttered a hasty prayer - "Papa, giv stea long mipela inap ken sevim laip long dispela mama" - "Lord, guide us so that we can save this mother's life."</p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1m-IpAFK9Nc/X7gy-iixHmI/AAAAAAAABsM/q5c8EziBHzg2Cua7K05xyzY7qFe3CR38gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_8665.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1m-IpAFK9Nc/X7gy-iixHmI/AAAAAAAABsM/q5c8EziBHzg2Cua7K05xyzY7qFe3CR38gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_8665.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><br /><p style="text-align: left;">Our hospital has been operating with a "skeleton crew" of doctors for nearly a year. The usual supply of volunteers has dried up thanks to COVID restrictions on travel, and our dwindling physician work-force has been stretched. We have poured sweat and tears into this work and wearied ourselves. Thankfully, God's grace has continued, and our doors have remained open to the sick and hurting in our highland jungle - whose daily miseries continue. I have asked myself where the ongoing strength will come from.</p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">"I was still, but I was under Your spell.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">When I was told by Jesus all was well - so all must be well.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Just give me time. You know Your desires and mine.</p><p style="text-align: center;">So wrap my flesh in ivy and in twine - for I must be well."</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Dr. Sheryl opened the abdomen and a large haematoma presented itself to us. The uterine artery on the right had dissected creating massive blood loss. We quickly removed the deceased baby and set to work stopping the bleeding and removing the severely damaged uterus. Each clamp and stitch needed to be placed quickly but appropriately while blood was being squeezed in by our anesthetic officer. After a diligent operation, the monitors showed the heart rate lowering and the blood pressure rising. She returned to the ward to recover - while her deceased baby was wrapped up by our nursing staff to await one of Papua New Guinea's many under-sized graves.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-epcPfSYTN7s/WsDHm2--bMI/AAAAAAAABLs/P29XWKrGpg487cYFXOQL0C4MJQcFgWMdgCPcBGAYYCw/s2006/Screen%2BShot%2B2018-04-01%2Bat%2B9.48.28%2Bpm.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1324" data-original-width="2006" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-epcPfSYTN7s/WsDHm2--bMI/AAAAAAAABLs/P29XWKrGpg487cYFXOQL0C4MJQcFgWMdgCPcBGAYYCw/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2018-04-01%2Bat%2B9.48.28%2Bpm.png" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Near the tail end of clinic that day a young woman walked toward my clinic room. Her gait and girth told me we needed to stop short of my exam room and we detoured to the ultrasound machine. As she lay on the table I glanced through her record book. An astute nursing officer in a health center at one of the corners of our province felt that this first-time expectant mother might have a baby lying sideways. With the potential ramifications of such a dangerous condition fresh in my mind, I scanned through her abdomen and discovered that she was, in fact, in breech presentation - also a dangerous condition, especially for a woman who has never given birth before.</p><p style="text-align: left;">We went to the maternity unit - to the same bed on which my dying
patient lay so recently - and I gave some intravenous fluids and an
injection of medicine to relax the muscles in her uterus. Using the
ultrasound machine to guide me and check on the baby, I was able to turn
her little one into the cephalic or "head-down" position. After thirty
minutes of monitoring they both appeared well and I sent them home with
instructions to come back and check the position of the baby again in a
few days. <br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">"Keep the earth below my feet.</p><p style="text-align: center;">From my sweat my blood runs weak.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Let me learn from where I have been. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn" <br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">We don't know when our world will open up again. News about vaccines emerge and it seems life may get "back to normal" soon. But "back to normal" for the majority world doesn't mean family gatherings, the Olympics and movie theaters. It often means a continued struggle against the majority killers. Please pray for the health workers of the world - that we might continue to learn and serve and be well.<br /></p>Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-10186761410142435302020-08-29T13:47:00.000-07:002020-08-29T13:47:59.942-07:00For the love<p style="text-align: center;"><span> </span>"Brighter than the sun, more beautiful than words could ever say."</p><p style="text-align: center;">-<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDcEithyEUg" target="_blank">Nothing Like Your Love</a><br /></p><p> </p><p>I got the call from our PNG medical student late at night on a Friday. "Dokta - we have a young girl here with an open fracture of her arm." Though our eager student wasn't on call that night, he was working in the ER in an effort to get some additional experience. I made my way up to the hospital to help administer sedation and attempt a reduction. When I got there, the 10-year-old girl thrashed about on the trauma bed. Her ulna protruded at a disheartening angle through a break in her left forearm. But her chaotic demeanor concerned me more at present.</p><p>She and some friends were walking across the roof of a large building near one of the coffee factories in our area. I didn't stop to ponder what they might have been doing up there ... perhaps they had been promised some much-needed cash if they kept the roof clean. In any case - she suffered a fall from the roof onto the cement floor some 8-10 meters below.</p><p>While the obvious fracture created a bit of a squeamish upset in my stomach, the bruising around her eyes and her altered mental status worried me most. She had suffered a significant closed head injury. I put her to sleep and our nurses established IV access, got suction available for her airway and brought the ultrasound machine over. Over the next 30 minutes we stabilized her neck, ruled out significant internal hemorrhage, and ferociously reduced her open fracture and applied a splint. But then came the hard part.</p><p>I took her mother aside and explained that her daughter likely had a significant head injury. She was resting now, but if the damage was severe, there was a chance she would never wake up. As the fear grew in her eyes, our little patient - her child - was taken to the pediatrics ward. We prayed together and as I made my way home I wondered what would happen to this little girl - scared that she would breathe her last before I could come back for morning rounds.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vz93wXlZxz0/U3xjoJGNWVI/AAAAAAAAAeU/QXtXFvFm02QxDasd83o6BfcE28ybv8eGQCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/IMG_3709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vz93wXlZxz0/U3xjoJGNWVI/AAAAAAAAAeU/QXtXFvFm02QxDasd83o6BfcE28ybv8eGQCPcBGAYYCw/s640/IMG_3709.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>On March 11th, about a month after our return to PNG for our 4th term of service at Kudjip, the WHO declared a pandemic of COVID19 - the illness caused by a novel Coronavirus which first emerged in China at the end of last year. Shortly after that, a case was detected in Papua New Guinea in a traveler from overseas. A state of emergency was declared, travel was halted, the health system made every effort to prepare for this infection which seemed to be ravaging Italy and parts of Europe at the time. And my spirit entered a season of fear I hadn't known previously. What would happen to our facility? Our patients? My family?</p><p>I went to my usual service in the hospital - performing C-sections, delivering babies, handling emergencies, stabilizing AIDS patients, hunting out Tuberculosis and caring for malnourished infants. I washed my hands until my fingers were raw, put on my medical mask, and kept my "Peter Parker" glasses on in case of getting coughed on. But something was different. I wasn't grabbing my patient's hands to pray with them much. I was "efficient" in my exam - trying to minimize my exposure. I was keeping my distance because I was afraid.</p><p>Weeks went on. Our hospital physician staff dwindled - overwork and travel restrictions taking their toll on us. It felt like this new illness would push us past a tipping point ... not because we were overrun with its victims, but because of so much collateral damage.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ehbK6f5Kqys/X0q972REJzI/AAAAAAAABqI/IFzzd0niqEQ2p6qI9QxkuLd1p5QWgAeFQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1708/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-08-30%2Bat%2B06.42.43.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="1708" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ehbK6f5Kqys/X0q972REJzI/AAAAAAAABqI/IFzzd0niqEQ2p6qI9QxkuLd1p5QWgAeFQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-08-30%2Bat%2B06.42.43.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>In the garden of Gethsemene, Jesus' soul was grieved to the point of
death - he was sweating blood. He was afraid of His coming execution -
with a fear that could easily have crippled Him and left Him incapable
of fulfilling His mission to endure and defeat sin on the cross. What
could move Him past that and give him the strength to pursue a shameful
death? <br /></p><p>As I sat on my porch swing looking out over the mountains as the sun rose, it hit me. "Perfect love casts out fear" (1 John 4:18). </p><p>His love.</p><p>And I was free.</p><p>The next day, my little patient showed no sign of change. She was completely unresponsive. Her mother's fear gave way to a couple hours sleep, but the emotional toll was evident in her entire countenance. I set a few things in order regarding her fluids and medications and again prayed for her life to be spared - but more convinced that we would soon see an empty bed there. But the next morning, a little girl sat in that bed with a bulky splint covering her arm, two significant bruises around her eyes and a small smile that her doctor and her mother had nearly given up hope of ever seeing.</p><p> </p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ClPzopjxRjI/X0q6xmMYXGI/AAAAAAAABp8/OZqITCt1cvMkapSe7NDipOh6auqr0psbQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2669.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1539" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ClPzopjxRjI/X0q6xmMYXGI/AAAAAAAABp8/OZqITCt1cvMkapSe7NDipOh6auqr0psbQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG_2669.HEIC" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I still put on my mask. I still wash my hands. I still wear my ugly glasses and come home with a checkered face for a couple hours. But I can, once again, embrace the mission. Not because it is free from risk or fear, but because there is a way to drive that out - replacing it with the Love that put me here in the first place.</p><p style="text-align: center;">"Your Love amazing - fills my heart and I sing out.</p><p style="text-align: center;">There is none like you. There is nothing like your Love."<br /></p>Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-64670935256023073252020-04-01T04:45:00.000-07:002020-04-01T04:45:22.299-07:00Going viral<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
It's been nearly 3 months since my last blog post and the world seems a completely different place. The daily case and fatality count of COVID-19 fills every space of my laptop screen, mobile phone, hours of meetings and even my dreams. I wake up each morning unable to turn off the gears that make me contemplate each possible action I can take to protect my family, prepare our community for an outbreak and somehow continue to bring much-needed essential care to over 300,000 Jiwakans in the highlands of Papua New Guinea.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
10 days ago, Papua New Guinea reported its index case of novel Coronavirus in an expatriate mining worker recently arrived via Europe. I was asked to join the Jiwaka government's COVID-19 Preparedness and Response Committee. This is a multi-sector task force currently working under a State of Emergency order by the Prime Minister. Police, Justice, Health, Administrative and Education sectors are involved as well as representatives from UN and disaster agencies.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wY9UqBbXWSg/XoQ3nKFbANI/AAAAAAAABfY/7XCBpndbb1gd1UiEb0kq94rxj4J_LBlAgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/90548464_10222567785008842_3460160618709909504_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wY9UqBbXWSg/XoQ3nKFbANI/AAAAAAAABfY/7XCBpndbb1gd1UiEb0kq94rxj4J_LBlAgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/90548464_10222567785008842_3460160618709909504_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Jiwaka COVID-19 Response Committee</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-93HvASeHq3k/XoRJj3orsuI/AAAAAAAABg0/gNbLEu9anB4BEAJJvM28nQa4DJ_hUGF1gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1919.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-93HvASeHq3k/XoRJj3orsuI/AAAAAAAABg0/gNbLEu9anB4BEAJJvM28nQa4DJ_hUGF1gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_1919.HEIC" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 1</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
What happened next has been a surreal "trial by fire" into the field of Public Health that I never anticipated going through.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For the first two days, the effort was to enforce the State of Emergency directives from the Prime Minister which included limited mobility of persons. I went with the police patrols to the various market areas clustered around the highway and gave a brief 10-minute overview of Coronavirus infection and the basics of how to contain the spread of the virus (Pasim Kus, Wasim Han, Noken Bung - "Cover your cough, wash your hands, do not gather in crowds"). Within a day, this basic message was codified by the various players in PNG health into leaflets and information that could be disseminated quickly. We need this information to go more viral than Corona.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CNyrVakwM4g/XoQ5a7rKbXI/AAAAAAAABfk/8HL-tAMSjDk41GQXGsBqH6ol0Lzp0ieIQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/90644506_10222567785288849_8876923267336634368_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CNyrVakwM4g/XoQ5a7rKbXI/AAAAAAAABfk/8HL-tAMSjDk41GQXGsBqH6ol0Lzp0ieIQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/90644506_10222567785288849_8876923267336634368_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Briefing the patrol officers on COVID-19 basics - there is a lot of fear and misinformation which has preceded the arrival of the virus.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b7bXt0Wcd4I/XoQ71g80L1I/AAAAAAAABgI/JkTrv30PC1kOz2X6ErFZg0UBO1WCr1NBgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1921.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1203" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b7bXt0Wcd4I/XoQ71g80L1I/AAAAAAAABgI/JkTrv30PC1kOz2X6ErFZg0UBO1WCr1NBgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_1921.HEIC" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riding in the police cruiser - it felt important to me that basic health information should be conveyed alongside the orders for limited mobility</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TK7uSm_nS8Y/XoQ5kfSxTgI/AAAAAAAABfo/wl_RLtOpA5waVFJcR_WsSLHhBRMiAaRMQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1941.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1203" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TK7uSm_nS8Y/XoQ5kfSxTgI/AAAAAAAABfo/wl_RLtOpA5waVFJcR_WsSLHhBRMiAaRMQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_1941.HEIC" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Atop the Toyota Land Cruiser preparing to conduct some basic awareness teaching</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The next step was to identify centres in our province that could accommodate patients, oxygen therapy, and isolation. Our Jiwaka Health team had already identified three and I was asked to consult on making preparations for the facilities and the staff in the event of a surge of patients. While I understand the need for ventilators in places like the US and Europe (and re-tooling manufacturers to create them), in our setting we need to do as much as we can to get the basics right. Until a specific treatment or therapy is available for Coronavirus, we will need to mitigate its severity the best that we can, given our limited resources.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QK6myS99M8A/XoQ66kb7DRI/AAAAAAAABf8/JqjQmGvgwTot6IRSdtsxUUvSGmdMMLUmQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/2636ce0d-79d3-4d9f-a6df-ef7942e58773.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QK6myS99M8A/XoQ66kb7DRI/AAAAAAAABf8/JqjQmGvgwTot6IRSdtsxUUvSGmdMMLUmQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/2636ce0d-79d3-4d9f-a6df-ef7942e58773.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As a "triage" option, patients can be maintained on cylinder oxygen while awaiting admission to an isolation facility</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cG9vQ62TXRo/XoQ66nEBx4I/AAAAAAAABf4/eILkSPtsL8Ic_RQ4o2aJrzqFAI8WiOnhQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/79e72287-c468-46aa-8ba6-3f7655bf457e.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1599" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cG9vQ62TXRo/XoQ66nEBx4I/AAAAAAAABf4/eILkSPtsL8Ic_RQ4o2aJrzqFAI8WiOnhQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/79e72287-c468-46aa-8ba6-3f7655bf457e.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Powered by solar and properly divided, this unit could provide 2 liters of oxygen per minute via nasal cannula to a maximum of 4 patients in need, who will be spaced 2 meters apart in an isolation unit.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LrzzGVaJKtQ/XoQ9tyw5_6I/AAAAAAAABgc/vdXZpMUPEWEsJ0-jZ7q0865YHbEXbrBDQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/b4c306dc-8764-461e-8e0b-e82cc8c32d02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="773" data-original-width="1600" height="154" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LrzzGVaJKtQ/XoQ9tyw5_6I/AAAAAAAABgc/vdXZpMUPEWEsJ0-jZ7q0865YHbEXbrBDQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/b4c306dc-8764-461e-8e0b-e82cc8c32d02.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Preparing an isolation unit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There needs to be a way to protect the workers at those facilities that both screen and treat patients. The use of separate triage / staging areas for patients with fever and cough can minimize the number of personnel potentially exposed to the virus and can maximize the efficient use of the VERY limited supply of personal protective equipment (PPE). I developed algorithms based on the current WHO case definitions to risk stratify potential patients and allow workers to identify those that might be a "suspect case" or "person of interest" - which includes travel history, severity of illness and the lack of other explanatory reasons for their acute infection.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TX7Mq4mEL88/XoQ9TCmap5I/AAAAAAAABgU/7tG2wEEUnRg0CrK3PZ1_88-mX4_Je7QkgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/ce5aa625-d667-45c3-9a91-5064dec0c183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TX7Mq4mEL88/XoQ9TCmap5I/AAAAAAAABgU/7tG2wEEUnRg0CrK3PZ1_88-mX4_Je7QkgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/ce5aa625-d667-45c3-9a91-5064dec0c183.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Separate "cough tent" screening area at Kudjip where health workers screen patients using algorithms to identify any potential "suspect case"</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In an ideal world, potential cases would be tested to confirm infection, trace contacts and recommend self-isolation during treatment for those that can be managed at home. With limited testing supplies, we are over-aggressive on patient
education and recommendations for self-isolation in order to create an
environment where the restrictions on mobility can be upheld in an
effort to contain spread.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i2h2DwbovvI/XoQ_cRS5bzI/AAAAAAAABgo/rXHO1H5ynP01YwFdOVIMWcJk1l3FkxOkACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/0b6f9013-0ca2-4dfb-a13f-8c2166134c3b.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i2h2DwbovvI/XoQ_cRS5bzI/AAAAAAAABgo/rXHO1H5ynP01YwFdOVIMWcJk1l3FkxOkACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/0b6f9013-0ca2-4dfb-a13f-8c2166134c3b.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So you think these are rare in the U.S.?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Infection Prevention & Control will, I think, be a significant weapon against any potential COVID outbreak in settings like ours. Patients wearing masks / covering their cough is the first step to reduce transmission to others - including health workers. Health workers with PPE (ideally mask, goggles, gloves and a gown) can also reduce risk to them. There are not enough. I get that. There is a shortage of PPE supplies in the US, but it breaks my heart to see what <i>truly</i> limited supplies are like in the current environment around here.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zd3m_z698zU/XoRLMFP1yEI/AAAAAAAABhA/aSxHXq38OAAKfuPUxkQ-UbZKpEjEU3ZFgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/f2b37f76-6ce8-4fed-8d3b-e2d11d2b1e26.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zd3m_z698zU/XoRLMFP1yEI/AAAAAAAABhA/aSxHXq38OAAKfuPUxkQ-UbZKpEjEU3ZFgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/f2b37f76-6ce8-4fed-8d3b-e2d11d2b1e26.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3 boxes of basic PPE made available for our provincial health workers attending a population of 300,000 - praying for more to come!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In light of those limitations, hand-washing becomes very important for the community, the patients and the health workers. Alcohol-based sanitizer? Not so much. Running water? Sometimes. What can we do? We create basic wash-stations and use them ALL - THE - TIME. There are a variety of options and thankfully, Papua New Guinea receives plenty of rain. The difficult part is catching it, storing it and distributing it with sporadic electricity. But I had time to bring a basic wash-station to one of our nearby facilities, instruct the personnel on using it and we plan for the provincial health leaders to create and distribute these things around the other centres.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LZOPeZJpie8/XoRMh2pE3lI/AAAAAAAABhM/alb9iqr3PYUdKhEcT_nHwoDKIP9_I6SrACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/99757b8c-7daf-44d3-97a9-515ac5b10c14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1008" data-original-width="567" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LZOPeZJpie8/XoRMh2pE3lI/AAAAAAAABhM/alb9iqr3PYUdKhEcT_nHwoDKIP9_I6SrACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/99757b8c-7daf-44d3-97a9-515ac5b10c14.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready to see a patient in one isolation unit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So the rapid response to an outbreak in our setting follows the same basic principles in any other place: awareness, infection prevention and control (including PPE for healthworkers), surveillance and testing, isolation and treatment - recovery. Unfortunately the challenges will be felt on an exponential scale if there is a significant surge in ill patients. Praise the Lord there haven't been other confirmed cases - but with limited surveillance capabilities it is possible they are coming and we are taking an active and precautionary approach.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
While this happens, the essential services that were provided before the outbreak need to be provided during it and be continued afterward. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The only place in Jiwaka that a patient can receive surgery, advanced maternal care or a blood transfusion continues to be Nazarene General Hospital at Kudjip. We need to provide this care because we are the ONLY facility that can do it. We can help other centres establish screening, work on hand-washing and protection, advise isolation and even, in some cases, administer oxygen. But we cannot create operating theatres or blood banks rapidly.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This was brought home to me last night on call. One of the other doctors and I were covering the Emergency Department and Maternity units. I triaged a cough/fever patient in our screening area (donning and doffing one of our limited sets of PPE) before returning to the Emergency Room to perform a lumbar puncture on a patient with meningitis. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Just after getting home, I received the call from Maternity ward, "Doctor, there is a patient here who has a breech baby stuck. The baby has already died." Patient X felt contractions at home during her 4th pregnancy and before she could get to her local health centre the baby was born, feet first, to the belly-button. At the facility, the baby delivered up to the entrapped head, which couldn't be relieved there. During transport to Kudjip, the baby died.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
On arrival, the mom was in distress from a hyper-stimulated uterus which was contracting without pause in an effort to relieve the obstruction. After establishing IV access and giving her some fluids and antibiotics, I performed a special maneuver to flex the deceased baby's head through the birth canal. After the delivery, I examined the mother and realized that there was extensive damage that needed repairing in the operating room. An hour later, cutting the last stitch, I was summoned to the Emergency Room again to attend a child with a diffuse infection in the leg threatening to penetrate into the bone. After days of making preparedness plans for a potential outbreak of a deadly virus, I was reminded of the very real and equally deadly challenges facing my Melanesian neighbors in the here and now.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I pray that we do not see a significant outbreak of Coronavirus. If we don't, we have made preparations and improved the resiliency of our health system for today's needs and future difficulties. If we do, we will continue to provide the care that we can, for those that we can, in the ways that we can, for as long as we can.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Pray for our hospital, its staff, the community around us, our leaders - and for the financial provisions needed to support the ongoing work here - which will likely be significantly impacted by this global race to stem the pandemic.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-79703145068485230202020-01-08T13:15:00.001-08:002020-01-08T13:15:27.790-08:00Freed from optimism<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A couple months ago, during my on-call night, a
young woman came to the labor and delivery room at Kudjip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The feet and legs of a baby presented through
her birth canal, but the unborn head had been trapped in her uterus for several
hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sister Theresia, a dedicated
nurse working at Kudjip, assisted in delivering a deceased baby boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lo and behold, another baby quickly
presented, head-first, and delivered – kicking and screaming – into Theresia’s
waiting arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After addressing this
healthy girl’s immediate needs, our nursing students, alongside the
grandmother, turned their attention to her baby brother’s preparation for
burial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bittersweet blend of joy and
sadness, so pervasive in the highlands of Papua New Guinea, weighed down the
room.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f-E38Ffdi3Y/Tc-vCzN1EgI/AAAAAAAAABk/XcXsrABWyF447bO8I9lRHTI3KXWz29BQACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_1537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f-E38Ffdi3Y/Tc-vCzN1EgI/AAAAAAAAABk/XcXsrABWyF447bO8I9lRHTI3KXWz29BQACPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_1537.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Our family has been in Tulsa the
past few months on furlough, giving me a little breathing room from the daily
grind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have reflected on an important
spiritual lesson that my mentor, IHI alumni Dr. Bill McCoy, taught me as we
shared heartaches in the crowded hospital halls at Kudjip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hope is not the same thing as optimism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Optimism posits that something good is going
to happen, regardless of circumstances.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>While something good may happen from any situation, I do not believe
that, as Christians, we have any guarantee of good outcomes in this world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Conversely, hope is a persevering belief that
anything can be redeemed for good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God
can take difficult, even devastating, situations and redeem them for His
purposes – not because those times are good, but because He is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Hope is one of the three abiding virtues (I Cor
13:13).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is also an anchor for the
soul (Hebrews 6:19).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The suffering of
this world, that we battle daily, is not a piece of some optimistic
jigsaw puzzle – it is a field of hopeful opportunity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I can appreciate this and leave the
outcomes and results to God, my faith may be pressed – but it will not be
crushed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This faith, as David Bentley
Hart says, “has set us free from optimism, and taught us Hope instead”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Some weeks ago, another young lady arrived into
the labor and delivery ward at Kudjip with a referral note hastily scribbled
onto scrap paper by a nursing officer working in a remote corner of our
province.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This mother was barely
conscious, having been struggling to deliver her baby for almost two days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the nurses scrambled to establish IV
access and begin administering medications, I hastily performed a bedside
ultrasound – with saddening results.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
baby was lodged in the uterus with its face presenting at the cervix, unable to
deliver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no heartbeat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mobilized our operating team, but knew that
we were only performing surgery for this mother’s sake, since her little baby
had already died.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kn0RBBVZR70/VFihjvG0gWI/AAAAAAAAAmI/gWKuLI8-McotVr81MQevpSTGHjLY9EHagCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_8665.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kn0RBBVZR70/VFihjvG0gWI/AAAAAAAAAmI/gWKuLI8-McotVr81MQevpSTGHjLY9EHagCPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_8665.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In the operating room I worked quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I removed the lifeless form of this little
one, I told the receiving nurse not to attempt any resuscitation – the baby was
dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On her way to the basinet, she exclaimed
– “Dokta Mark, em pulim win!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Dr. Mark,
he took a breath!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She got to work
bagging the baby and, in a few moments, we heard cries of new life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I repaired the uterus and finished mom’s
surgery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the next week, mom and
baby recovered nicely and that fizzled spark of hope was fanned for me
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">This is what the Sovereign <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> says to these bones: I will make breath<sup> </sup>enter
you, and you will come to life” (Ezekiel 37:5).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v83RE1Tz5U0/VPLob9Fdf_I/AAAAAAAAApk/fhg8qoukBCE7vk7ZhFIIaJFF9daxMFXqwCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_0481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1487" data-original-width="1600" height="297" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v83RE1Tz5U0/VPLob9Fdf_I/AAAAAAAAApk/fhg8qoukBCE7vk7ZhFIIaJFF9daxMFXqwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_0481.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Now entering our seventh year
working in Papua New Guinea, we see the challenges through hopeful lenses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our hospital has recently expanded to
accommodate our growing maternity care services and surgical disease
burden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have entered into a working
relationship with the government to provide referral services for our entire
province.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are taking UPNG medical
students and have taken our first surgical trainee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our recent Rural Health graduate has been
elected President of the PNG Society for Rural & Remote Health.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through it all, patients are being ministered
to, both physically and spiritually – to the tune of about 70,000 each year!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Our family prays to continue in
God’s calling for us – in the ways that He plans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please consider joining us in prayers for
perseverance, guidance, provision and continued Hope as we serve in the
highlands of Papua New Guinea.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:swiss;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536859905 -1073732485 9 0 511 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0cm;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}
@page WordSection1
{size:612.0pt 792.0pt;
margin:72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt;
mso-header-margin:35.4pt;
mso-footer-margin:35.4pt;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}
-->
</style></div>
</div>
Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-74225912304661852162019-10-22T13:31:00.002-07:002019-10-22T13:31:34.402-07:00PNG Crouch Family on Mission - Open House Dates 1 & 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E5yN8BCrbk0/Xa9nAvKUEWI/AAAAAAAABag/GqUPL61ahxUgkidW2G1gnqPRV8NsyoYewCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/71016303_10156647723401589_5531532459767758848_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="942" data-original-width="960" height="314" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E5yN8BCrbk0/Xa9nAvKUEWI/AAAAAAAABag/GqUPL61ahxUgkidW2G1gnqPRV8NsyoYewCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/71016303_10156647723401589_5531532459767758848_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Our first two PNG Crouch Family Open Houses are confirmed in Tulsa! </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Monday, November 4th at 5:30pm at the Crouch home </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thursday,
November 21st at 5:30pm at Believers Church</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Dinner and childcare will
be provided. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Please RSVP by email or phone so we know how much dinner
to have and how many babysitters.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Come see our family and hear some
stories about what God is doing in the Melanesian highlands! Message me
if you need contact information.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
[We plan future open houses in December and January as well if you cannot make the above dates]</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
crouchm@gmail.com</div>
</div>
Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-62114178344635975962019-10-11T18:24:00.001-07:002019-10-11T18:24:51.323-07:00To return<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
“But oh, oh, my heart still burns<br />
Tells me to return<br />
And search the fading light”</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
-<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_p143Nk4GU" target="_blank">Josh Garrels</a><br />
<br />
I walked through the Paediatrics ward with my son Gabriel in tow. A young man reached out to take my hand and I recognized him as a boy I had drained an abscess on recently. It struck me that although I will soon leave this place, the sick and suffering of the PNG highlands will still make their way here and receive care from compassionate doctors. The thought gave me comfort as Gabriel and I went to my office to make a few last adjustments before closing that door for a few months. All my daily sights and sounds impressed me more and I began to miss this home already.<br />
<br />
A few days ago I lumbered home in the late afternoon after an exhausting Sunday morning of call. Overnight a young lady came with bleeding at just 22 weeks gestation. Her baby passed as I began evaluating a woman in the emergency room in the same scenario. The nurses asked me to write admission orders for another tiny baby born at home the night before weighing just 800 grams. A mother laboring in our maternity unit needed a cesarean delivery so I notified the operating theatre. I made my way back to the nursery and watched three premature little ones take their first and final breaths.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QkmQL70Hwmg/VARhbp7dwJI/AAAAAAAAAiE/WDBG-UxBJQQibopWsOl1S0Mr6u3og0wQQCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_8624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QkmQL70Hwmg/VARhbp7dwJI/AAAAAAAAAiE/WDBG-UxBJQQibopWsOl1S0Mr6u3og0wQQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_8624.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
So many of the memories I make in this place seem like dark sights. But as I prepare to return to the US for our missionary furlough I find myself more apprehensive about what I will see there. Though I am challenged every day to encounter and combat very raw needs in our rugged highlands, I recognize that they are changing me. I worry that I am no longer truly at home in America. <br />
<br />
My loved ones are the reason I want to be there. Yet I shudder a bit to think of re-entering an old life and wondering where to start my days when my new normal has been defined by my family’s presence here in PNG.<br />
<br />
From afar it seems that things are changing and perhaps in ways that don’t fit me. Meanwhile, I am changed by the place I now call one of my two homes. Its burdens, its people, its joys and its sorrows - surrounded by a ring of tropical mountains like a crown of thin air.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zx_22ZqauZc/TcMQIRn0jQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/IYo3ijBOSDcC6XrQ93Wnn6s2_r0S86LHQCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_1439.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zx_22ZqauZc/TcMQIRn0jQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/IYo3ijBOSDcC6XrQ93Wnn6s2_r0S86LHQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_1439.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
I made the incision with a heavy heart, considering the new lives we were unable to help just moments before. A minute or two later that heaviness lifted a bit as a vigorous baby boy cried fiercely in my arms. After concluding surgery this little one rested comfortably - ready to begin his own journey in this place. Outside his expectant grandmother grabbed my hands. Though she spoke no Pijin, her tear-brimmed eyes said “thank you” in a universal language. I went to the emergency room, where more of my neighbors needed help in challenging times.<br />
<br />
I am torn between two worlds. Not just America and Papua New Guinea. I am indeed a pilgrim in this earth - created for another eternal home but finding myself wandering a bit in the Creator’s world with a calling to seek and serve and save those that are lost. Many times I may not know my real destination - what I am supposed to learn or how I am to change into the man I need to be - but I can trust the One who is directing my course. <br />
<br />
The thought brings peace to my anxious heart as I ready my family to journey across the world to another home. And I can embrace the rest and privilege to spend time among loved ones there - remembering that it is not a destination, but a continued part of this journey.<br />
<br />
“So tie me to the mast of this old ship and point me home”</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8qYdvE52KZ0/XaErDCQzxZI/AAAAAAAABaE/sBxFI3bMpTI0rKM4f76TyW3L-E1qMyAqACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_1127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1334" height="223" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8qYdvE52KZ0/XaErDCQzxZI/AAAAAAAABaE/sBxFI3bMpTI0rKM4f76TyW3L-E1qMyAqACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_1127.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-2704773266350553022019-08-19T13:56:00.001-07:002019-08-19T13:59:01.827-07:00The thinnest air<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
"<span>I'll take the last climb</span><br /><span>Up the mountain, face my fears</span><br /><span>The time has come, to make a choice</span><br /><span>Use my voice for the love of every man</span><br /><span>My mind's made up, never again</span><br /><span>Never again, will I turn round"</span><br />
-<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOEU3xt29Lk" target="_blank">Josh Garrels </a><br />
<br />
Many of my blog posts center around a patient's story. This one is no exception, but it is dramatically different than most.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I was recently blown away by an experience among the mountaintops of Papua New Guinea. Four of the doctors here, along with a couple of our closer friends from Kudjip station, made the arduous journey and trek up Mt. Wilhelm - the highest mountain in Papua New Guinea (and Oceania). For several weeks leading up to our trip, I would load up my backpack with water bottles and textbooks and climb the various hills around Kudjip. Other times I would strap Gabriel on and take him to "enjoy" these long walks. I knew I needed to build up some muscles and stamina to climb 14,793 feet above sea level on rocky and narrow ledges into the clouded heights above our Waghi valley.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Our two-day adventure started on a Saturday, departing Kudjip in the morning for the nearby Simbu province where we would drive as close to the base of the mountain as we could - a town called Gembok. Once there, we parked our car, grabbed our gear, hired a few "carriers" and started a 3-hour trek up to base camp at 11,000 feet. As we climbed higher, the cool air began to thin and the light drizzle of surrounding clouds soaked us. Once at camp, a small fire provided a little warmth to our chilled feet. We needed to get an early dinner (noodles and tuna fish) because our next day's march would begin in the pitch dark at 2 o'clock in the morning.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PDBygvTtAH0/XVsJJv17bkI/AAAAAAAABXU/xD_6pMVjqjcfxz3tqdGB2vG0OSdLl1BYgCLcBGAs/s1600/67756800_10107800121141597_3830250189600325632_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PDBygvTtAH0/XVsJJv17bkI/AAAAAAAABXU/xD_6pMVjqjcfxz3tqdGB2vG0OSdLl1BYgCLcBGAs/s400/67756800_10107800121141597_3830250189600325632_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
As we ate our noodles trying to retain some heat in our extra layers, a sacred thing happened. Our dear friend, pastor Apa, told his story.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I will not relay all of the details, but as a young man, Apa found himself entangled in many of the struggles facing Melanesians. Through a series of tragic events, he lost his son in a flood and found himself ostracized by his family - culminating in some of his brothers beating him and leaving him for dead. He was brought to Kudjip where he underwent surgery with Dr. Jim Radcliffe and then months of rehabilitation in the hospital. He described times of incredible challenge while he recovered - questioning the Lord and himself, wondering where he was headed.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We finished our supper early and wrapped up in blankets and sleeping bags to snatch a few hours of sleep before the long march the next day. At 130 I was stirred by Matt's alarm and the light of some headlamps clicking on. Our team put some food and water into backpacks and started the trek up Mt Wilhelm. In the pitch dark we could only see our footing by headlamps and relied heavily on our guides, but about five hours later the sun touched the horizon and we saw high ridges around us and a large mountain still above us. We had hoped to hit the summit near sun-rise, but it took a couple more hours winding around it to strike the path that would take us to the top.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OfkoQpz7xFc/XVsJWR_EmiI/AAAAAAAABXY/4KoFrIE9HJMVHXqfK21DItgRHifEJunFwCLcBGAs/s1600/68406474_10107800883748327_8001482114912485376_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OfkoQpz7xFc/XVsJWR_EmiI/AAAAAAAABXY/4KoFrIE9HJMVHXqfK21DItgRHifEJunFwCLcBGAs/s400/68406474_10107800883748327_8001482114912485376_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7-X3450FNFY/XVsJqC4H8VI/AAAAAAAABXk/Sf09AbdM6d09NVPFbV_R0FLsOOYh_UoKgCLcBGAs/s1600/67818139_10107800130128587_7408415399840055296_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7-X3450FNFY/XVsJqC4H8VI/AAAAAAAABXk/Sf09AbdM6d09NVPFbV_R0FLsOOYh_UoKgCLcBGAs/s400/67818139_10107800130128587_7408415399840055296_o.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
During Apa's injury and recovery at Kudjip, he turned his life over to Christ and began to seek
a new road. He ultimately landed a job working security for the
mission station and then went through Bible College after being taught
to read by the Bennetts - a former missionary family here. Many years later, he now he works on station helping to keep the hospital and mission houses in good repair, but he still pastors a church and is building a home for the disabled - people often neglected in this place. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
After nearly giving up circling the summit, our guide finally directed us to the path that would take us up the steep climb to reach the top. Apa's son, Bol, led the way showing his youth as the rest of us followed behind. I never thought I could find a place so cold and windy on our tropical island home, but the noise of the wind and the damp of the clouds reminded me of the incredible diversity of PNG - and the incredible resolve and endurance of our Melanesian brothers and sisters to face whatever comes at them.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a5o0s-IxJOI/XVsKMKoq7TI/AAAAAAAABXs/7tN9Gde9Ja8vpgCp52yRchXtseBsNRIuwCLcBGAs/s1600/67910356_10107800130537767_5408571591942471680_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a5o0s-IxJOI/XVsKMKoq7TI/AAAAAAAABXs/7tN9Gde9Ja8vpgCp52yRchXtseBsNRIuwCLcBGAs/s400/67910356_10107800130537767_5408571591942471680_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I thought I would find the thinnest air in PNG on the chilly heights of
Mt. Wilhelm. But the most sacred presence I felt was huddled into the
small A-frame house at base camp listening to Apa recount his incredible
tale of being lost, injured and broken - receiving healing and new
spiritual life at the hospital - and his ongoing journey into
God's path for his life.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cUYpbNVcQVs/XVsL7GIankI/AAAAAAAABX4/pB3Q5aCn4XcUTCRNlB7R3ph_OQrRq6ImQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cUYpbNVcQVs/XVsL7GIankI/AAAAAAAABX4/pB3Q5aCn4XcUTCRNlB7R3ph_OQrRq6ImQCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_0541.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-36626124000324393512019-05-17T19:53:00.001-07:002019-05-17T19:53:36.686-07:00A glass darkly<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
“I need to know that You're still
holding the whole world in Your hands.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
-<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGhmvNGFENE" target="_blank">All Sons & Daughters</a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G9z4N0joOSs/TeS_sWc0FeI/AAAAAAAAAEE/axOcNwnn7MApKK422w8AKUUqWVXFAcGEgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_1616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G9z4N0joOSs/TeS_sWc0FeI/AAAAAAAAAEE/axOcNwnn7MApKK422w8AKUUqWVXFAcGEgCPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_1616.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The sun ascended slowly over the hills
surrounding Kudjip station as I completed some paperwork in the
operating room. I wanted to get home and eat a quick breakfast
before starting my ward rounds and the full day of clinic ahead of
me. But my hands literally shook as I tried to pen the last words of
my note in Lucy's chart.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She arrived about 10 days before that
eventful night and her difficult story unfolded like a slow train
wreck. Only 25 weeks pregnant, she started bleeding. She left her
three children in the care of relatives and made her way to Kudjip.
An ultrasound showed a premature baby and a previa – the placenta
implanted over the birth canal leading to a dangerous situation in
which Lucy could bleed to death if she tried to deliver her baby
vaginally.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For a week or so she stabilized. The
bleeding stopped. Every few days I watched her little baby kick and
suck its thumb, checking his fluid levels. Every day I notified the
on-call doctor of the difficult truth – that Lucy would die if she
went into labor and didn't have a cesarean section. We all knew,
sadly, that this little one couldn't survive in this place.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was on my watch that the call came.
“Dokta Mark – Lucy em karim plenti blut nau”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I went to Lucy's delivery bed as a pool
of blood steadily formed. Two more bags of blood were brought down
to transfuse her. I prepared her for surgery and choked out a prayer
that we could save her life. While the surgery felt mostly routine,
the little one that I clutched in my arms before handing him over to
the nurses was agonizingly small. There were no cries.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I managed to complete my notes and the
orders for Lucy's post-op recovery. She needed some sedation at the
end of the procedure and drowsed comfortably as they took her back to
the ward. I skipped breakfast and went into the nursery. A tiny but
perfectly formed baby passed away just as his mother was opening her
eyes to the first rays of tropical sunlight. The birds were singing
– but somehow the songs seemed all wrong.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
To the deceased,</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I hope you can forgive me.
I did what I thought had to be done. Perhaps my prayers and tears
at the end were enough to convince you.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Your mother loved you and
wanted you in her arms. Even in the short couple of days that I saw
your heartbeat I wanted you to join them. Your brother and sisters
wanted you. But I think they needed your mother more, and I couldn't
save you both.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
If we lived somewhere else
perhaps it would be different. But in this place – where lives are
broken and the earth groans for its redemption – it simply cannot
be.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I hope that your new home
is a true paradise. I hope that these last few days can be
forgotten. I hope that you can tell Him I'm sorry – though I have
a million times. I hope you can receive me with forgiveness when my
time comes.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nnnyPslQ0wA/VzOlNR6NEPI/AAAAAAAAA1g/oBqStQ8MEy44rQw7kLQJy8lK2codWqGJgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/Isolette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1196" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nnnyPslQ0wA/VzOlNR6NEPI/AAAAAAAAA1g/oBqStQ8MEy44rQw7kLQJy8lK2codWqGJgCPcBGAYYCw/s320/Isolette.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I recently discussed with
one of the other doctors the challenge of having to make difficult
decisions and seeing subsequent poor outcomes here. From the U.S. I
remember imagining myself bringing critical medical care to the truly
hurting and sick of our world. I believed there would be lives I
could change or save. I failed to grapple with the hard truth that
many of the things determining life and death in this place would be
completely out of my control. My patients are often sicker than any
illnesses I would encounter back home. I must make decisions that
seem like a cold calculus at times: thinking about the number of
blood bags the hospital has, how many patients the nursing staff can
truly handle, or whether I have the physical, spiritual and emotional
reserves to take on ill-fated heroic efforts.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My son Levi provided the
answer. We sat on the porch, swinging in the hammock enjoying some
down-time during my Saturday call. I asked him to practice some
memory verses with me and he gave me the entire chapter of 1
Corinthians. I teared up as he approached verse 12: “But now we
see through a glass darkly”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So many of my challenges in
taking care of patients here come from staring at that dim looking
glass. I don't have the information, the resources, the specialists
or the technologies that I would want. I must make hurried decisions
affecting life and death as I wander in a fog of uncertainty. Yet I
have this hope as an anchor for the soul – that I may be greatly
encouraged. Though I must make decisions that are beyond me, I do
not make them alone. Once my knowledge, strength or skill have been
exhausted, another joins my efforts. One day I will see clearly, but
for now I must pray and trust it is enough.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-goIPQcuXi78/XN9zWUZp5kI/AAAAAAAABVk/pRKPp146KL8ZlDHVXa948jQN_VUrT1YwwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2370_preview.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-goIPQcuXi78/XN9zWUZp5kI/AAAAAAAABVk/pRKPp146KL8ZlDHVXa948jQN_VUrT1YwwCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_2370_preview.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Later that day I met a pleasant and
nearly unbelievable sight. I made my way between wards taking what I
call my “bed biopsy” - assessing how many spaces were available
in the hospital for the patients I would soon be tending in the
clinic and emergency room. A young woman stood in crutches with her
unmistakable smile. Moana had been in the hospital for a few months.
When she first came she looked like a wraith – skin and bones,
covered in chicken-pox and bed sores. The infection in her bones kept her from walking,
leaving her debilitated and unrecognizable. For several weeks she received
treatment and once the infection
stabilized, the difficult task of recovery began. Thankfully a
visiting physical therapist worked with Moana every day –
mobilizing her tender limbs and teaching her to use her slowly
gaining strength to walk supported.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Throughout her difficult stay, Moana
kept a special joy and smile – even on her toughest days.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On this day, I needed that smile more
than most. A reminder that God was present among the broken lives groaning for healing in this place.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-enH1TKmVa5M/XN9qxG65_9I/AAAAAAAABVY/ccMMKUvKWiMj5QSB6IDGu_WLr7-5PhKfgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG-1910.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-enH1TKmVa5M/XN9qxG65_9I/AAAAAAAABVY/ccMMKUvKWiMj5QSB6IDGu_WLr7-5PhKfgCLcBGAs/s320/IMG-1910.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style></div>
Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-68505263556389868662019-02-22T19:57:00.002-08:002019-02-22T19:57:59.193-08:00Tearless morn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"O joy that seeks me through the pain</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I cannot close my heart to thee</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I trace the rainbow through the rain</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">and feel the promise is not in vain -</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">that morn that shall tearless be"</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">-<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_xz7LsWRvI" target="_blank">Ascend the Hill</a></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I have struggled for several weeks to put down in writing the myriad emotions that have descended upon our mission here. Our mentors and forever friends the McCoys left a career of ministry in PNG last month and I felt I needed to honor that. We have some new physicians joining us this year and it has been exciting to see where that will go in the future. And with it all the daily triumphs and tragedies of working in the highlands of Melanesia.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This post was supposed to be a positive reflection of Bill's more than 30 years of medical service in Africa and here in PNG. So on our last call night we performed what we thought would be our final surgery together. Esther came to take pictures of Bill, who attended my birth 36 years ago, performing a C-section with me. Those pictures will not be seen, though, because like so many unfortunate times before, our interventions for this young family were unsuccessful and while Doris survived, her baby never took a first breath. As Bill and I despondently washed our hands after the case, he said, "it makes me realize that the work isn't finished." </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QkmQL70Hwmg/VARhbp7dwJI/AAAAAAAAAiE/WDBG-UxBJQQibopWsOl1S0Mr6u3og0wQQCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_8624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QkmQL70Hwmg/VARhbp7dwJI/AAAAAAAAAiE/WDBG-UxBJQQibopWsOl1S0Mr6u3og0wQQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_8624.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Bill's legacy is palpable in this place. There are not (yet) plaques with his name on them, but the enduring compassion that he poured into the lives of people continues in those of us that refined our own ministry alongside him.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
While I have learned innumerable medical pearls, I have grown the most in my ability to feel the comfort of Christ in situations that seem unbearable. There is no way to <i>teach</i> this. Only through fire can something like a persevering faith be refined. There are few doctors in this world that possess those skills ... and those scars. Those that do must often put on an armor that allows them to see a stream of tragedies without becoming paralyzed. But the thick skin can be reopened, and must be at times.</div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
Two days ago one of our new doctors and I stood around the trolley carrying the charts for our pediatric patients, deeply discussing how we approach all of the suffering we encounter. There were a few simple ideas I could come up with ... journals, exercise, reading scripture ... because the truth is there is no anesthetic for grief. </div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
As if on cue, later in that busy clinic day, a young man I have known for a few months came to see me with his grandparents. He bears the name of my own son and he thinks he is about 8 or 9 years old. He was born with HIV and while his family has taken great care of him, the reality is that he is approaching the end of his short life expectancy. It became clear that he was no longer responding to my care, and had developed a cardiomyopathy from a combination of his longstanding HIV and the drugs used to treat it. I excused him to the waiting area and told his grandparents that I would try to make him as comfortable as possible, but that he would likely die within a month. The three of us ... William, Mary and I ... clasped hands and I prayed as I often do for the peace and comfort of Christ in the face of a certain, yet tragically preventable, death. I held it together until they left to collect some pain medicine and diuretics at our pharmacy. Then I went to sit on the stone wall of the hospital, cry, and look over the breathtakingly beautiful scenery of the mountains. A five minute respite before returning to the long line of patients still waiting to see a doctor - some of them for the first time in their lives.</div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zw4dxHefSBI/Vw22svfYWJI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/5T0JJJhI7-YNPY7aMB-LK21GjSjVdMxzACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_4008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="936" data-original-width="1600" height="233" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zw4dxHefSBI/Vw22svfYWJI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/5T0JJJhI7-YNPY7aMB-LK21GjSjVdMxzACPcBGAYYCw/s400/IMG_4008.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
As Bill and Marsha departed PNG our mission family honored their dedicated service here in a special evening of fellowship and sharing memories and stories. I was grateful to hear these words that night and they give me strength to continue a journey, through times of suffering, to that tearless morn:</div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"I have many times felt overwhelmed by suffering and death. However, <i>feeling</i> overwhelmed is not the same as <i>being</i> overwhelmed. If I were to count the cost of waging war on suffering and death, and my ledger was the sum total of my gifts, my strengths, my courage, and whatever other resources I might possess in myself, the result would be catastrophic. Death wins by a landslide. But that is not my fight, not my war. Christ Jesus faced suffering and death and overcame them. They still spit and fume, but they shall not have the last word. The last word belongs to Christ. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px; text-align: center;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We have this hope as an anchor for the soul (Hebrews 6:19). Our response to suffering and death, very real and formidable enemies, is the test of everything we as Christ followers hold to be true. There can be no such thing as “gospel” or “good news” unless that news addresses death. Thankfully, it does. And therefore, so must I."</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">-Bill McCoy </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l7Mbmw55Lfg/XHDAcy9xKDI/AAAAAAAABTk/FKeaUk1aQqAOqVkqwzbcvyw3dwiY1aTwACLcBGAs/s1600/49307652_10156059213561589_8588024916396212224_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l7Mbmw55Lfg/XHDAcy9xKDI/AAAAAAAABTk/FKeaUk1aQqAOqVkqwzbcvyw3dwiY1aTwACLcBGAs/s320/49307652_10156059213561589_8588024916396212224_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-38333720443844786262018-12-24T03:26:00.001-08:002018-12-24T03:26:04.812-08:00Hopes and fears<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
“The hopes and fears of all the years
are met in thee tonight”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
-<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SvC5kYqd5cI" target="_blank">JJ Heller</a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
I was seeing patients alongside a
visiting resident in the clinic when we were summoned to the delivery
room by a nurse to assist a mother who was struggling to deliver her
first son. She had been in labor for some hours and hovered on the
verge of exhaustion. An aunt was there attending her, along with a
couple of our nurses, each giving encouragement. But etched in her
face was a look I have seen hundreds of times. A look of fear –
that this child would not come, that she didn't have the strength.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
I instructed Daniel, our resident, in
preparing a vacuum extractor to assist with the delivery. She looked
doubtful as we made the instrument ready, but a brief explanation
seemed to allay her fears. She pushed. Daniel pulled. A vigorous
baby boy soon rested in the arms of his exhausted but obviously
joyful mother. The hope of those nine months now breathed against
her chest.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
When I see expectant mothers in our
antenatal clinic or outpatient department I notice the mingled hope
and fear of the new life growing within them. Hope of a child with
all of its innocent promise and the expanding joy of their family.
Fear of all that may happen in a place challenged by difficult
maternal and perinatal mortality figures.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
I am perpetually wonder-struck at
Christmas. I have grown up knowing that God chose to become man for
our sake and that his arrival was marked by a humble birth. But
until I saw the challenges of childbirth in Papua New Guinea, I don't
believe I appreciated the incredible courage of Mary and Joseph. I
did not fully comprehend a God who was willing to take any chance to
safeguard His children. Nor did I grasp His love – that would put
his own Son in harm's way from his first breath. But when I see the
faces of those mothers, full of concerned anticipation, I take a
moment to ponder the miracle of Christ's coming.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
“Awaken your forsaken hope and look
upon your king.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ft9u3WxVf7w/Ux6JYG5Vd3I/AAAAAAAAAeo/K2o8zHv6GXQt98yVVsUoqikQq_Xwci-mgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/Kepis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ft9u3WxVf7w/Ux6JYG5Vd3I/AAAAAAAAAeo/K2o8zHv6GXQt98yVVsUoqikQq_Xwci-mgCPcBGAYYCw/s320/Kepis.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style></div>
</div>
Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-31725704149794899512018-11-04T12:51:00.003-08:002018-11-04T12:51:54.440-08:00Nevertheless<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Launch out <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FBJJJkiRukY" target="_blank">into the deep</a> and let down your nets for a catch"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
-Luke 5:4</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
I got the phone call at about midnight late Sunday. The previous day I was bumped and jostled up the highlands highway returning from the national medical symposium 9 hours away on the coast, so I was a little sore. The calmness of the voice on the other end of the line clashed with the message delivered. "Doctor, your C-section patient is in arrest."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I flew out the door and up to the hospital. It didn't make sense - her surgery had been fairly routine a few hours before. Her baby simply wouldn't come vaginally so I took her to surgery and delivered a big, vigorous baby. But when I arrived in the ward, there she was without breathing or pulse, receiving chest compression from a nursing student while an anxious family looked on. I quickly placed a tube in her airway while nurses prepared drugs to try and restart her heart. After several minutes and rounds of exhausting CPR, she had a pulse. One of our anesthesia officers arrived to help but she kept losing her heartbeat so we started a continuous infusion of adrenaline to keep her alive and took her back to the operating room, allowing our ventilator to provide artificial breaths while we tried to reverse whatever happened to her. Did she get too much anesthesia or pain medicines? We reversed it. Did she bleed too much? An ultrasound of her abdomen suggested no. What happened? After many hours being kept artificially alive, her body eventually wore out and she passed away - her cause of death shrouded in mystery. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I got some hurried breakfast and went back to the hospital. Only hours later another mom came to the delivery room who had been laboring in a bush health center without any progress, awaiting a car's availability to bring her to Kudjip. Her baby was clearly obstructed in her pelvis and she needed surgery. The nurses had reported a strong fetal heart beat before surgery, but it
became apparent they had detected the mother's pulse. I delivered a baby that seemed to have died some time before. I put the last stitch into my patient's skin and went on to clinic, preparing to work my way through a steady steam of the destitute sick of Papua New Guinea. I was mere hours back into work and I was already feeling drained. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kn0RBBVZR70/VFihjvG0gWI/AAAAAAAAAmI/gWKuLI8-McotVr81MQevpSTGHjLY9EHagCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_8665.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kn0RBBVZR70/VFihjvG0gWI/AAAAAAAAAmI/gWKuLI8-McotVr81MQevpSTGHjLY9EHagCPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_8665.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
After an invigorating time teaching at the PNG national medical
symposium, I returned to the maternity ward at Kudjip. For the
past several weeks, I have experienced the highs and lows of helping
deliver babies in a country that struggles with some of the worst maternal and
perinatal mortality rates in the world. And it felt like I was losing the never-ending battle against them.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Some years ago my mentor, Dr. Bill, shared about his journey through the perils of trying to save the world through medical missions. He points out the story in which Jesus encounters Simon. After a long night of fruitless toil, Jesus asks him to help him teach the people. Simon likely didn't need to be there, but I believe our Lord saw something that he needed to learn. Scripture doesn't actually give us the sermon - but his message comes through loud and clear when he asks Simon to go out into the deep waters. The waters where had just spent hours of work with nothing to show for it, where he had just failed - where he lost. Although he was ready to give up, his response motivates me every day:<br />
<br />
"Nevertheless, at your word I will let down the nets."<br />
<br />
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HEyGkv0pBLU/V88yHZ_P8vI/AAAAAAAAA48/dhqK44qEaO0JDwOe42vdNab5mrPGX8kxwCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/200_23.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="395" data-original-width="590" height="214" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HEyGkv0pBLU/V88yHZ_P8vI/AAAAAAAAA48/dhqK44qEaO0JDwOe42vdNab5mrPGX8kxwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/200_23.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
"Doctor, the baby's head is stuck." Once again, I raced up to the hospital, convinced that this baby would die in those hurried moments as I made my way up the stony road. When I arrived at the delivery bay, I saw a nurses clutching the body of a baby in her arms, the head still inside its mother's womb. Without any antenatal care, this breech (feet first) presentation had not been detected until the mother arrived at Kudjip ready to deliver, with the baby being partially born immediately after she laid on the delivery bed. As I worked to relieve the obstruction of the head, I felt the body in my arms grow limp. After what felt like hours, the baby's head delivered and its lifeless form lay on the bed. I wanted to cut my losses then, to give up - to clean my nets. But there was a slow, faint heartbeat still. Seeing an opportunity to teach newborn resuscitation (but without any real hope), I instructed our nursing students in doing CPR for this baby boy. In a minute or two, that heartbeat was a little stronger. I placed a breathing tube while a small spark of hope nestled in a corner of my heart - the corner where so many fizzled out in the past. But the baby "pinked up", began to move, took his own breaths and tried to cry. A short time later, we removed the breathing tube and that baby lay resting comfortably at its mother's breast. A couple days later, they went home to his big sister who had been eagerly waiting for him.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5MIIHChts4A/W9ob1w4pu6I/AAAAAAAABRo/B2hixk7xlMYYthcIV7x0axAuE_OqNi_aACLcBGAs/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2018-11-01%2Bat%2B7.11.01%2Bam.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="838" data-original-width="1140" height="235" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5MIIHChts4A/W9ob1w4pu6I/AAAAAAAABRo/B2hixk7xlMYYthcIV7x0axAuE_OqNi_aACLcBGAs/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2018-11-01%2Bat%2B7.11.01%2Bam.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
As I make my way through our maternity ward every morning, I must choose to let down the net. There are days that it remains empty, when it seems like it will spoil. There are days when perhaps I haven't pushed out far enough into the deep. Nevertheless, there are days when when it nearly breaks with the new lives that we are part of bringing into the world here at Kudjip. <br />
<br />
"Never again the shallows. Never again the same."<br />
-<a href="https://www.medicalmissions.com/resources/4301/is-there-not-a-cause" target="_blank">Bill McCoy</a></div>
</div>
Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143503245795903256.post-44297885469943567602018-08-10T18:36:00.000-07:002018-09-12T23:56:36.397-07:00Hearing the brokenhearted<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"He hears the brokenhearted</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He binds their wounds"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
-<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RMwVXlWfK4M" target="_blank">Estherlyn</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div>
Not for the first time, my vision blurred as I examined the patient in front of me. This baby, less than a few hours old, appeared healthy. Pink skin, good muscle tone, breathing well, crying strongly. <br />
<br />
It was the crying that went to me and brought my own tears, clouding my vision. I knew what this child couldn't yet comprehend - that she would never know her mother. Only a few minutes prior, I removed the breathing tube I had inserted in our attempts to resuscitate her, and helped prepare her body to give to the new grandparents.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Josephine" had delivered her baby at home. After the delivery, as her father explained to me, she bled heavily and simply wouldn't stop. She collapsed, and the desperate family scrambled in the early morning hours to find someone with a vehicle to bring her to Kudjip. When they arrived, our newest doctor, Matt Woodley, and I saw them carrying her limp body onto one of our exam tables. An anxious relative walked in behind her, with a new baby bilum over her head. We attempted CPR and placed a breathing tube, giving medicine to try and restart her heart but she likely had died before ever arriving in our hospital and I couldn't bring this baby's mother back for her.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ciZD1mpDv18/W2TEVBzr4FI/AAAAAAAABOs/NGY4grOuTikJM07RPLSFIO3vdyUqtrOqQCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_1591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1196" data-original-width="1600" height="239" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ciZD1mpDv18/W2TEVBzr4FI/AAAAAAAABOs/NGY4grOuTikJM07RPLSFIO3vdyUqtrOqQCEwYBhgL/s320/IMG_1591.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Josephine on the left behind curtains, her mother and baby on the right at bed 4<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
USA Today recently ran an investigative article looking at the maternal mortality rate in the US, bemoaning how high it is and highlighting a few stories from the 700 cases of mothers who died around childbirth there last year. The piece makes for compelling reading, a call for action on the "abysmal" safety of delivering a baby in the US. But it also captures something else ... the impressive ability of our human condition to focus on us ... our country, our people, our problems and what we can see. What it neglects is the tragic reality the rest of the world faces - that becoming a mother often truly represents the most dangerous thing for a woman to do. The reality of orphans around the world, crying fruitlessly for their first feed at their mother's breast.<br />
<br />
“We’re not talking about a Third World country, we’re talking about us, here. This shouldn't be happening here." <br />
-Trainer, The American Hospital Association<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TSlwKaYJ_pw/W2VLI0fXmhI/AAAAAAAABO4/fwxvYSG0avET9jrdEAu1xLkI2luW506oACLcBGAs/s1600/ebola.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="620" height="339" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TSlwKaYJ_pw/W2VLI0fXmhI/AAAAAAAABO4/fwxvYSG0avET9jrdEAu1xLkI2luW506oACLcBGAs/s640/ebola.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Josephine's grandmother watched attentively through muffled sobs as I examined her new granddaughter. She said that another woman in their tribe recently had a baby and could breastfeed this hungry child. Her father was already helping some of her brothers to lift Josephine's body back into a vehicle that would take her home for burial. In less than thirty minutes their grief and struggles became the overwhelming reality that swallowed the heart of this medical missionary. Then she disappeared out of sight again, back to a family that is tragically all too familiar with this kind of loss. And much of the world could care little less, only occasionally remarking on depressing numbers. Numbers that it has somehow chosen to accept as inevitable for orphans in the "third world." </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Crying is all right while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
-CS Lewis</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For nearly five years I have absorbed some of the challenges of the PNG highlanders whose crumbling health services remain conveniently shadowed in the remote jungles of this Pacific island. But as many as I can touch, help, suture and resuscitate I know that there are important ways to move upstream. For me, teaching is an important step in this process.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
During our last furlough, I became an instructor for a <a href="https://www.aafp.org/cme/programs/also.html" target="_blank">course</a> that teaches practical obstetrics skills in an effort to curb the suffering of mothers and babies in childbirth. In a few weeks, a team from <a href="http://inhisimage.org/international/" target="_blank">In His Image</a> in Tulsa, Oklahoma will join me in conducting the first of these courses here in Papua New Guinea. We are aiming to teach staff from many hospitals throughout Papua New Guinea during the PNG Medical Symposium.<br />
<br />
While I trust that skills we teach can make a difference in the lives of mothers throughout Papua New Guinea, my other prayer is that we could raise the awareness of their struggle. A struggle shared with mothers around the world who deliver babies in surroundings that have no access to services that are often taken for granted in other places.<br />
<br />
While I look to teach others some skills to make a difference in these women's lives, I hope that those challenges may one day catch the attention of a world sometimes spinning too fast to take notice.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<br />
-----------------------<br />
Update<br />
-----------------------<br />
<br />
<br />
In the last 2 weeks we have hosted the first 2 ALSO courses for Papua New Guinea physicians.<br />
What a privilege to be part of the Society for Rural & Remote Health and to meet and<br />
work with great doctors who want to make a difference for the mothers and babies<br />
of rural Papua New Guinea.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mdnidd_mDBE/W5oJ1jKFB3I/AAAAAAAABQc/u0XzOoLZPSgEHMsj8ocZQIbuoWb3N5ruACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_6747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mdnidd_mDBE/W5oJ1jKFB3I/AAAAAAAABQc/u0XzOoLZPSgEHMsj8ocZQIbuoWb3N5ruACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_6747.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--YNoi1yXCHg/W5oJWbwhihI/AAAAAAAABQQ/Ig7mjAM9rVE2p3MOQ5t6S0EU0bVZY2-NwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_6761.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--YNoi1yXCHg/W5oJWbwhihI/AAAAAAAABQQ/Ig7mjAM9rVE2p3MOQ5t6S0EU0bVZY2-NwCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_6761.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Mark Crouchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09753831479438478593noreply@blogger.com9