Sorry for the delay in the blog entry.  I haven't kept up with my usual once a week post.  In my defense this past week and a half has been filled with activities and work.  Last weekend I traveled off the ship with some friends and visited a town called Coya.  We stayed at a nice park with lodging.  It was a great experience all together.  Traveling there was a blast.  We rode in the back of a mini-bus, which is basically a van with all the seats removed and replaced with wooden benches so that more passengers can fit.  In addition to the 8 of us there were about 15 more African people.  It was a snug fit, but the cost made it worth it.  I think it came out to about $1 each to travel 45km.  It's also a great way to feel engaged with the culture.  Once we made it to our lodging in Coya we quick settled in, and then the owner (Alice from Holland) took us out on a tour through a nearby village.  The area was pretty rural.  There were lots of small farms and open land. We walked for about 1.5 hours and then got caught in the rain.  It was great.  For some reason walking out in the middle of nowhere in the rain felt familiar.  The rain eased up for a little while and we arrived at a lake where a picnic was set up for us. The lake was beautiful with the backdrop of a mountain in the distance.  After eating a quick lunch we headed back to the park and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to dry off and relax.  That evening we ate a nice dinner and then had a bonfire with s'mores.  It was great end to the day.
  The next day we went a hike up into the mountains.  It was the best.  I miss hikes.  We hiked straight up for about 45 minutes, but once we made it to the top the view made it worth it.  We could see all the way to the ocean.  It was so refreshing.  I was so grateful to be away from the chaos and bustle of the city.  I know this for certain, I am not a city person no matter where in the world I am.  I'd rather be out of the city in the middle of nowhere any day.  I could have stayed on that hike for a few more days.  We traveled down the mountain and crossed paths with some local boys that were carrying wood.  They put us to shame. Some of them were wearing flip-flops and were booking down the path with heavy loads on their heads.  Here I was with my nicely treaded shoes and a light load and I was slipping down the path going nice and slow.  Once we made it to the bottom our guides suggested traveling to a waterfall not too far away.  We were all a little hot at that point so a waterfall sounded nice.  After walking another 20-30 minutes we made it to the waterfall.  It was beautiful.  At that point all our shoes were soaking wet from walking across rivers through the hike, so jumping in the water and getting completely wet didn't seem too bad.  We all got in and swam around for a little while.  It was great.
  After our hike was through and we arrived back at the park and changed into some dry clothes.  We packed our stuff up, ate some lunch, and then headed back to Conakry.  It was such a satisfying weekend.  It was a great time with friends, local people, and the outdoors.
  Other than my great weekend, my week has been going well.  I have worked the past 4 days and cared for a particular patient that reminds me a lot of some of the patients I've care for back home.  He is 38 years old and has a very large facial tumor that probably weighs about 10 or 15 lbs. The mass mostly covers his mouth so he hasn't been able to get any decent nutrition for a long time.  He is mostly a skeleton.  About a week ago he had a trach and feeding tube placed.  The trach is to protect his airway from the growing tumor and the surgery he will soon receive.  The feeding tube is to boost up his nutrition as much as possible so he can tolerate and recover from surgery.  He's really struggling though.  He has constant pain.  The tumor weighs so much that it's hard to hold his head up.  Since he's so skinny he has lots of bony prominences which become sore while laying in bed.  He's scared about his trach.  He gets very anxious when he coughs which is normal, but since he and I don't speak the same language I can't coach him and reassure him that he'll be ok very effectively.  One of the days this week he signaled to me that he was going to die.  He looked so defeated.  He was sitting in a chair at the time and shortly after crawled into his bed and curled up in the fetal position.  It broke my heart, I struggled to hold back tears.  I couldn't tell him he wasn't going to die.  Literally because I don't speak the language and also because I just don't know.  No one's days are guaranteed.  His surgery is going to be very risky and he may not survive after it's completed.  I called our Patient Life team and had someone who speaks his language come by and offer support.  The Patient Life people have been great with him.  I hope that as time goes on we can help him find peace, motivation, and hope for what lies ahead.  At this point his surgery is scheduled for November 7.
  Here are some recent pictures.

This was lodging at the park where we stayed.

On our walk through the village.

Rice fields

The walk before the rain came.

Arriving upon the lake where we had lunch.

The beautiful lake. Pictures don't do it justice.

View from the top of the mountain.

Some of the group as we hiked.

The local boys carrying their wood. 

The waterfall where we all went swimming.

My friend Emily and I completely drenched after our swim.

View of the city at sunset.

Our ride home after dinner.  Nine people plus taxi driver in one compact car.

I’m beginning to love this place.  I have experienced so many moments of joy and excitement in this past week.  Each day in its own has given me so much to smile about.  I feel like I’ve reached the point where I can finally grasp what’s going on around me.  The first two months I was overwhelmed by everything, and I had a fear that once I took in all the changes that I would come to the conclusion that this wasn’t for me. But, instead the opposite has happened, I feel I am right where God wants me to be.  In so many layers I have seen His work done in my life and the lives of people around me.  I could attempt to overlook His work, but it’s too blatant.  I won’t get too personal, but overall I am so grateful.  I am so relieved.

  I have continued to visit the HOPE Center where former patients are and every time I’m greeted with so much excitement that it warms my heart.  And consider this, I don’t even speak the same language of these people, yet I feel like I know them.  I can communicate to them my care and they can communicate their needs by simple gestures and warm smiles.  The kids at the HOPE Center also come back to the ship weekly for check-ups with the doctors and on this past Wednesday they came back down to the hospital to see us.  A few patients still in our ward were here at the same time as the HOPE Center patients so it was a little reunion.  Everyone was so excited.  They were hugging, laughing, and sharing stories.  It gave the impression of a family reunion.  It made me realize how much they meant to each other.  The parents and the children had bonded so much over their experiences.  It’s hard to describe without witnessing it, but people here form such strong relationships that they appear to be family.  Seeing this made me realize the vast impact we’ve made on people’s lives.

  On Thursday we had quite a bit of excitement on the ship.  There was a French Naval ship tied behind our ship and the president of Guinea was there to make a special visit.  I didn’t know this was happening until I attempted to take my trash out and couldn’t leave the ship because the dock was so heavily guarded by the Guinean military. This was about 1 in the afternoon.  And if that wasn’t exciting enough, we got word about a half hour later that the president wanted to come and visit our ship.  The message came on the overhead that “someone very special” was coming onboard at about 3pm so we needed to clean up, put things away, and put on some nice clothes if we want to meet this “special person”.  I had to work at 2pm so I headed down to the hospital.  We later heard that the president wanted to see the hospital in particular (since this is what we’re all about).  Everyone in the ward was so excited and nervous at the same time.  We had to do a quick clean up all of the toys, beds, and scattered paper.  At about 3pm the president made it down to our ward.  Our charge nurse was given the task of showing him around and introducing a few patients.  With all the staff, media, security officials, and patients it was a very crowded ward, but I was able to stand just a few feet from him.  It was a little surreal, that a person of such great authority and responsibility for so many people might be right here on our little ship standing in front of me.  It was a mix of both my everyday life and a once-in-a-life-time experience.  After seeing our ward the president also went on the visit the other wards, and then afterward was invited to speak to the crew in our meeting hall.  I wasn’t able to hear his speech, but people told me that he shared his gratitude for what we are doing here in his country.  They said it was a very nice speech.

  I’m getting out of chronological sequence, but earlier in the week I witnessed another great moment.  I think it was Tuesday, we admitted a little girl about 7 years old to our ward.  She had come to have a cleft lip repaired.  The caregiver that came along with her was her grandfather.  We immediately welcomed her into the ward.  One of the nurses, Beth, showed her around and introduced her to some of the other children there.  Beth was simply carrying her around and talking to her like she would to any child.  A little while later the grandfather told one of the translators how grateful he is for us and the way we treated his granddaughter.  He said that back home people never touch her, let alone talk to her.  She is excluded from playing with kids, going to school, and being acknowledged.  I was astounded to hear this. It’s hard to believe that for something as simple as a cleft lip a person can be treated so poorly.  A day later the little girl received her lip repair surgery.  After the surgery was completed I watched as the PACU nurses brought her back into her bed on the ward and the grandfather saw her corrected lip for the first time.  I almost cried watching him.  He was speechless with the biggest smile on his face.  He was pacing around her bedside placing his hands on her.  He was overcome with joy.  It was amazing to think that by doing such a simple surgery we have changed this girls life in so many ways.  I can only hope that as she returned home people treated her with the full-extent of humanity that she deserved.

  That’s the summary of what my week has been like.  It’s been great and I’m glad to be here.  I hope the good experiences keep coming.  I’ll leave you with a few pictures of the presidential visit.

 The president of Guinea heading up the gangway of the ship.

  Rachel, our D-ward team leader and charge nurse, introducing some of our patients.

  

Rachel speaking through one of crew members to translate.

 The Guinean naval band

Picture of our captain in front of the Guinean Navy. 

The president saying thanks to the crew.

Hey Everyone,
  Things are still going well over here in Guinea.  Life has just been a continuation of what I started doing about a month ago.  I 'm still working in the hospital, spending free time with friends, and learning lots about people from all over the world. 
  In this entry I thought I might just share pictures with captions.

 This picture was taken at the HOPE Center.  It's where some of the patients go when they're ready to leave the hospital, but no quite ready to go home.  I've traveled here a couple of times on my days off to visit the people I've taken care of.  It's so fun to see them and to see how they've continued to recover.  In this picture is Kadiatu and me.  She is a little girl who came to Mercy Ships to have a repair done on her hand after a burn injury she had a few years ago.

 In this picture is Emily, one of the nurses I work with.  She is from Washington and is here with her husband who is also a nurse.  Again, this picture was taken at the HOPE Center. These two little boys are Lamin and Mamadou.  They spent lots of time with us on the ward recovering from their surgeries.  Now at the HOPE Center they continue to recover and will hopefully be going home soon.

This is Lamin again.  He is so precious to me. I'm grateful I've gotten a chance to care for him. As you can see by his beautiful smile, he is full of energy and happiness.  He was on the ship for many weeks and has now been at the center for about 2 weeks.  Hopefully he'll be going home to Sierra Leone soon.

 This, not so exciting picture, was taken on our journey outside of Conakry this past Saturday.  It was the first time I've left the city since arriving.  I journeyed with a few friends in one of the Mercy Ships vehicles. We traveled about  an hour and a half to a town called Dubreka.  We didn't set out with this destination in mind, but a few girls in the group knew how to get there, so that's where we ended up.  It's wonderful to see the countryside.  It's very heavily forested with lots of mountains.

In the town of Dubreka is a very nice waterfall.  We traveled up a rough dirt road and ended here about 20 minutes later.  We only hung out here for about 30 minutes, because we needed to get the truck back to the ship.  The waterfall was very powerful from lots of recent rain fall.  I hope to visit more waterfall sites around the country during my time here.

  Many times, while I've been here, I've wondered what people back home picture when they think of my life here.  Do they imagine me surrounded by a harsh, cruel, dangerous, impoverished environment?  Or do they imagine a more gentler landscape with lots of sun, coastal breezes, palm trees, African music, and colorfully dressed African people?  What do you imagine?  Do you imagine me in a place you've been or seen on TV?  When I say I took a taxi to go to a nice restaurant, do you imagine the American yellow taxi cab? When you think of the restaurant, do you picture an Applebee's or The Blue Nile (Ann Arbor restaurant)?  When you think about the ship do you imagine a ship as large as a Carnival Cruise or the as small as the Staten Island Ferry?  When I talk about the hospital do you think of a hospital you've been in before, or do you imagine an army style hospital you once saw in a movie? The point I’m trying to get at is that it’s hard to accurately imagine a place you’ve never been.  Most likely the things I’ve seen are nothing like you think.  Sometimes I wish I could mount a camera on my head and record my travels through the city.  For example, I would love to take you along with me as I go for run.  Maybe that would save me the descriptive relations I have to create when I tell of my life here.
   As it stands currently, I am unable to take pictures or video record the places I travel around Conakry.  Here is an attempt at describing an activity without being able to show you the image.  I went out on a run last Sunday with two other friends.  We met at in the reception area of the ship.  We exited through the gangway (a gangway is an accessible entrance to a ship.  Think Titanic and Rose Dawson walking up the stairs to the ship in the beginning of the movie).   At the top of the gangway was a Gurkha on duty.  The ship has Gurkhas hired as security guards.  A Gurkha is a specially trained Nepalese combat soldier.  Look it up on the internet, they’re pretty cool.  Anyways when we travel off the ship we have to sign out on a log book and scan our name badges.  We had to indicate our destination and when we’re leaving.  Once we made it down the steps of the gangway we headed to the exit of the gated dock.  We walked past a few African security guards and said “Bonsoir” as they documented the number of personnel leaving the dock.  Once we passed through the gate we were in Africa.  In front of us were four large cargo ships, with semi trucks parked next to them waiting to unload or load their goods.  As we headed to the exit of the port we had to go through a check point.  We’re pretty well known by port authorities here so they let us right through.  We exchanged a few kind words in the little French that we know.  The most common phrase is “ca va?” which means “how are you?”.  After we passed the checkpoint we headed into the main artery way through port where most of the semi-trucks travel.  Like in many countries there are no real traffic laws so it appeared to be chaos as large trucks cut through narrow spaces and smaller cars weaved through the gaps they left.  This was one of the more tense times in our run.  It’s not “look both ways” like in the states.  It’s “look everywhere” and “look out”.  We had to be careful and quick to see where it was safe to walk.  The Guinean people are kind and they often will warn us if we look like we’re in danger. 

  Once we made it to the exit of the port we stood in front of a round-about and decided what route to choose.  We chose to go to the far right and travel along the water. As we ran we had to be mindful of all the debris and potholes through the streets.  We passed groups of men sitting on the curb alongside vendors.  They yelled things at us in Sousou, French, and the little English they knew.  We mostly assumed they were cheering us on.  On the route the streets were quite, only a few cars passed.  We ran past hotels, homes, and, commercial buildings.  We passed one of our favorite off ship hangouts, The Obamabar.  It’s literally on the water (on stilts) and serves great seafood and drinks.  As we headed back towards the ship we passed groups of children playing soccer in the streets.  Sometimes the soccer ball would roll in our direction and one of us would kick it back into play.  On some of the smaller roads where we ran it was mostly crowded with people.  They were all “hanging out”.  We could smell the food being cooked in their kitchens as they sat in on their front stoop conversing with their neighbors.  They were probably having discussions about the days events, politics, or the white people running down the street in front of them. 

  As we headed back to the ship we dodged a few more cars in the road, but made it to the port safely.  The run took us about 40 minutes and it was nothing like the kind of runs I take back home.  Hopefully this description painted a more accurate image for you.

  Here are some actual images taken in the past week.

One of the many beautiful sunsets

Hanging out and one of the local hotel pools.

Me at stern of the ship

Ward photo with some of the children we've cared for.

Hanging out on deck 7 where the patients and caregivers have an hour of outdoor time.

Playing a good ole' game of memory.

 One of my favorite patients, Lamin.

 Another one of my favorite patients, Alseny.

 Lamin and his father.