Final Post

Hi all: well, we're back in the UK. We had a good flight overall: back from Maroua to Yaounde, then a day in Yaounde, then back to London via Douala and Zurich. We got back to Oxford just this morning and are in the process of unpacking, etc. There are approximately 9 million Emails in my inbox, so sorry if I haven't got back to you yet.

So this is the last blog post: thanks for following us.

Thinking back over the last couple of months, here are some of my closing thoughts, if you don't mind indulging me one last time:

First of all, as I think back on what we observed during our trip, I find myself pondering what an amazing thing is was that this hospital (and all the ministries that accompany it) should exist at all! Right up in the ‘extreme North’, in a small village called Meskine, a long way away from anything, in a country where (at the best of times) there’s little in the way of infrastructure or services, there it stood, offering crucial health-care to people who, without it, would have had none. When I think about it, in the cold light of day, it seems to stand there as one of those ‘hardly-explainable’ facts on the face of the earth, a testimony to the faith of a few people, themselves (in one sense) very ordinary, but who had an extraordinary vision for something, and the energy and perseverance to see it through. I’m grateful for people like that, who go out and do something extraordinary. I wish I could be like them!

Second, there was the sheer abundance of need. In my limited experience, there’s something about Africa that seems, almost, overwhelming in the scale of its need. New-born babies with kidneys that don’t work, women having miscarried, young men lying in beds just waiting to die from conditions that it’s hard or impossible to diagnose, school-age children prevented from attending classes because of something; and all the time the families themselves were bearing the cost of that illness, whether in terms of money to pay, lost working time, or crops back home that were waiting to be harvested and would soon wither and die. And in a sense these were the lucky ones, the ones who managed to get into the hospital; I know there are many who don’t even have the resources to do that, and (I guess) whose stories never get told.

Third, having said that, every day there was so much to rejoice over: successful operations, families supporting one another, staff being great at their jobs, those who can’t afford it being supported to purchase the crucial medicines they need, and so much more. In fact, spending the time as I did in the role of ‘hospital chaplain’, one of the best moments of the day was when you knocked on the door of a ‘cabine’ and entered, only to find the bed empty and those wonderful words: ‘le malade est liberé’ (‘the patient has been sent home’). I guess it's one of those paradoxes of hospital ministry that, in one sense, it’s better when you don’t see the patient than when you do! I really loved seeing those things.

Fourth and finally, I’ve tried to keep this blog as general as possible, because I know there are loads of different people reading it. But it was very clear to me (and the people running and supporting the whole project would be the first to say it) that all this work was upheld by something more than just strategic planning, good-will and money sent over from the West. Every morning we prayed for the day ahead, and every evening I think the whole hospital was able to say that God himself had been 'in' it:

‘I will say to the Lord, ‘you are my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I will trust’ (Psalm 91)

... and he was, in all things!

Thanks to all those who’ve offered to donate: I’ll get back to you asap with the details. And once more, do let me know (timhowles@gmail.com) if you’d like to donate to the hospital poor fund.
  
And to finish off, here's a photo of a board that I used to pass every day in the hospital. It shows the number of spare beds that were available in the male and female wards for that day. Suffice to say, it rarely changed from this! I think it shows nicely both the need that remains and the amazing service being offered by the Hopital de Meskine. Thanks!

Great opportunities!

Some of you will know what this is ... :) 

Physiotheraphy

A quick peek at the 'kinesthesie' (physiotherapy) ward: our friend Kerry and her staff do a great job here, and it's a lifeline for the many patients who are stuck in a bed with a wound or an amputation: 

Note the bikes, the 'walking bar', and other great equipment.

The Poor Fund

One of the things I've been really moved by is the 'fond de pauvrete', that is, a fund offered by the hospital that helps provide medical services, surgery and medicine for those who are too poor to afford it. 

People come from a long way to get here (in fact, especially for the patients from Chad or Nigeria, I really don't know how they manage to get here), and sometimes once here they have nothing to eat, drink or live on, let alone pay for medical services that may run to many thousands of CFA (central african francs).

If you'd like to donate to the poor fund for the hospital, everything helps, and it can be done quickly and easily. Please let me know via the blog, or at timhowles@gmail.com otherwise. Thanks.

In the meantime, some more photos from the hospital; this time, the paediatric ward (all with permission):

(Above): this is a very sad case indeed: a little boy called Y. with kidney problems. He's 2 months old, but you can see how small he is.

(Below): again, another sad case. This young girl, E, spent a whole year in the hospital in 2009 - 2010 with complications arising from an infection: she's now back. But she's got the best smile in the ward!

You can't quite see it, but my little friend here is sporting a Manchester United shirt (last season's too - not bad!):
 

So, please do let me know if you'd like to donate. Thanks.

An update on the hospital rounds

It's been another busy week for me doing the rounds in the hospital. Here's an update on some of the cases (I'm using initials rather than names, just to make sure I don't breach anyone's confidentiality: it's really hard to explain to people what a 'blog' is and, as I mentioned in a previous post, most people are quite suspicious of what photographs are being used for here)

Anyway, here are a couple of updates:

• I mentioned a very sad case concerning a young man named A. He had been in the hospital for some weeks with an undiagnosed mass around the kidneys. A. seemed to be a lovely young man, I guess in his early-twenties, but we were watching him grow thinner and thinner, and weaker and weaker, day by day, and there was still no firm diagnosis. It was suggested to him last weekend that he might like to go home, and so his family took him back to his home village to face the end there.
  
  
• Some good news though: I also mentioned a man named F. He came in to the hospital for a wound on his leg initially but, while that was being treated, suddenly (that is, within the space of an hour) started to experience muscle spasms: by the end of the day, there had been some sort of neurological break-down, so that he couldn't talk, and his arms, legs and fingers remained clenched. That was 6 months ago now, and here he still is, lying in bed. Semi-paralysed, I guess. Anyway, the good news is that two days ago for the first time he started to speak: just a few (hard to decipher) sounds, but it definitely represents progress. And there's also been a chance for him to go to the 'kinesthesie' bloc (physiotherapy) for some minor stretches and movements. I'm really pleased.

(One of the reasons this is a particularly sad case is that F. has a 3 year old boy, J. He's naturally stuck here at the hospital with nothing to do, so we play around with a ball and other things. I've asked permission to take and show a photo, so here he is!):

And in his usual pose, kicking or throwing something around the hospital grounds:

• Another young friend called S: he comes from N'gaounde're, a city in the middle of the country, but had a clondo accident ('clondos' are taxi-motorbikes that you see shooting around everywhere with passengers on the back; unfortunately, many of the accidents that come in to the hospital seem to occur as a result of them). A car went into the back of him, and then carried one, leaving him lying in the road. He's had one leg amputated, and the other is being pinned in the hope of saving it.

Please pray for these patients and many others too. 

And finally, here's a photo with my two friends the 'aumoniers', having a glass of fanta after work!

Snakes alive

There are snakes out in these here parts apparently. Here's a snake-skin that I was shown yesterday; this one that was recently found and killed on the hospital site:

I was told that the optimum method for killing a snake that you find is to fling it against a wall - not sure that's how I'd do it, but still ....

The atelier

One of the things I've been really impressed with about the hospital here is its 'ingenuity': in a country and a locale in which things can be really hard to find (whether that is materials needed for building, for operating or for growing things) there seems to be someone here who can 'do' it on site.

For example, there's an amazing workshop round the back of the hospital I just came across this week (the 'atelier') that makes wooden crutches for use by patients who have had an amputation (very common here because of diabetes - many of the patients on the ward seem to be cheerfully-enough waiting for their leg to come off!):

Another thing they do, prompted by a couple of amazing orthopaedic surgeons who've spent time here in the past, are prosthetic limbs, made and manufactured here on site: 

And, again I don't know where these have come from, but there are wheelchairs (and even other, more ingenious methods of transport, seen around the hospital site. Things like this are really good to see:

Hope you are all well. T

An operation

I was able to get my surgical robes on, get scrubbed up (kind of) and watch Sarah and the team on an ovarian cyst yesterday.

Here she is with the team:

The operation itself:

And the removed ovary, with permission to show:

'Knock yourself out ...'

A great little story from Sarah...

In the surgical bloc, once the patient is anaesthetised with ketamine (which is what is used here), and just before the first incision, the custom is for the team (surgeon, assistants, anaesthetist) to stand around the bed and briefly pray for the safety of the operation, that all goes well, and for the patient's recovery, etc. 

This happened as usual yesterday around the bedside of an anaesthetised man awaiting an operation: but as they closed the prayer, the team was surprised to hear a little voice call out 'Amen' with them...

He must have been praying harder than anyone!

Teaching about hydration

Every Wednesday morning they have a teaching session for the nurses in the hospital: this week, Sarah did it on 'les liquides' - types of fluid, causes of dehydration, methods of rehydration, etc. It's a vital subject matter to get right, because there are so many cases of dehydration coming in which are sent straight to theatre. 

Anyway, here are some photos, with the translator:

More wildlife ... not the big stuff, though

Some more of the local wildlife (not lions or tigers, though, I'm afraid):

Feeling Better

Dear all,

Just to let you know that drugs are great and I'm feeling much better!

With love from a less malarial sarah x

Malaria

Hi all, please pray if you would for Sarah: she wasn't feeling well over the weekend and so, on Tuesday, we had a test done and found out that she's got malaria. 

We've got the correct treatment, which she's started, and she's feeling much better, and is back to work at the 'bloc'. But I'm sure she'd appreciate your prayers as she finishes the course of treatment and continues to get well.

Thanks and best wishes to you all.

The hospital

As I'm sure you understand, it's difficult for us to get lots of photos of life around the hospital. One of the reasons for this is sensitivity: it wouldn't be appropriate for us to be taking photos of patients and putting them on the blog. Another is cultural: for some reason, Cameroonian people seem to think that if you take a photo of them, then your intention is to sell it for profit (an African concern for 'image rights', I guess).

So, it's difficult. And I wish you could see what we see on the wards: it's amazing, and sad, and thought-provoking. 

If you can, please pray for some of the following: 

• A young man by the name of A.: he came in to the hospital some weeks ago with pain in the lower abdomen; now you can feel masses on his kidneys. The doctors don't know if this is related to cancer, tuberculosis, or something else. I go in to see him every day, and he's becoming thinner and thinner (just a skeleton, now, really).
• A man by the name of F.: he came in nearly six months ago with a fairly routine issue, but (for some reason) suffered neurological problems, and now is paralysed, bed-bound and unable to speak. His family are all here, and have been from the beginning, just looking after him as best they can. Please remember in particular a little boy, 3, called J, who is stuck here at the hospital with the family, waiting.

Anyway, I've managed to take a few photos that don't directly show anyone. Here is a typical cabine (empty): small, but at least offers some privacy:

Here's a shot of one of the ward buildings (this particular one ring-fenced for tuberculosis):
 

And a typical day on one of the wards themselves:

I have more, but not to show on the blog. Thanks for your understanding.