Counted Among The Living

“We are thankful to be counted among the living,” is often the opening statement when the hospital staff and our Ghana Health Partners gather under the hospital gazebo each morning. It strikes me each time I hear it — how often do I stumble into my day without taking the time to thank God that I am alive?

As Dr. Charlie gave the morning devotional about how God turns darkness into light, I couldn’t help but reflect on the darkness of unnecessary death and suffering we have witnessed here over the years and the light of health care provision at Leyaata. Even today, patients succumbed to illnesses that were too advanced to cure and that would have been preventable if diagnosed and treated early. One of the reasons Dr. Jo and I are in Ghana is that we are working with our partners on developing a breast and cervical cancer prevention and treatment program. Sadly, we were reminded today, that these programs are desperately needed right now.

Our day was productive and full, and we are getting in a lot of steps as the hospital is so massive! My iPhone is noting 8000 – 10,0000 steps per day even though Anne and I are spending most of the day in the classroom. Our midwifery students have been so keen to learn (even after being on night shifts) that we were able to move on to teach them some advanced skills for their NICU, such as using a baby CPAP breathing machine. Our partners in UK, Medical Aid International, supplied four of these simple, robust devices designed for low-resource settings. All you need is power and the machine mixes and warms air and concentrated oxygen (made from air). This can be life-saving for many babies after birth — especially premature babies. 

One of the things that causes a great deal of laughter around here relates to our communication and translation mishaps. During Charlie’s devotion, he shared a story that happened to him while operating on a patient. Although the hospital staff all speak excellent English, Isaac (lead accountant) stood to translate the medical parts to ensure no details were lost in translation. While he was translating, Amanda (lead pharmacy) stood up saying, “I think I better help you!” During her translation, she would turn to Dr. Ben and Ernestina for help with certain words. These moments add so much levity to our day. I asked two of my British partners to give me a Coles Notes version of a report and they had no idea what I was talking about. My favourite language blooper today took place when Anne was teaching and in her lovely North Hampton accent, kept using the word “nought” (which sounds like “noat”) instead of the word “zero.” It took me more than a few moments to figure this out and realizing the midwives were as confused as I was, I said, “Do you know nought means zero?” They understood immediately and burst into enlightened giggles, but Anne heard me say, “Do you know not means zero?” which made absolutely no sense to her British ears. I suspect the hilarity of this might be lost on paper — but it is still making me crack up as I write so worth a try!

We are using technology to the max here. Leyaata uses an electronic medical record and is working hard to be paperless. Diagnostic imaging is transmitted digitally to radiologists for interpretation. Our pharmacy department is waiting for their electronic labelling system to arrive, so in the meantime, Sherri and Linda were able to upload and implement the labelling program that our Ghana Health Team used for many years as a temporary solution. Our Ghana Health Team experience and processes continue to inform the support we are able to provide here. Nicky and Jodi reminded me so much of our dear friend Joan Maguire when they decided to join Andy (Ernestina’s son who is in charge of Leyaata Stores) to transform a massive room of donated equipment, instruments, and supplies into an organizational dream.

My favourite moment of the day took place when I made rounds on a three-year-old girl who has cerebral malaria. Thankfully she is improving, but the illness has caused her to lose much of her muscle strength, so she is having trouble sitting up and walking. I wasn’t sure if the Leyaata physiotherapist would have expertise in dealing with young children, so I requested a consult. At the end of the day, I swung by the physio department for the first time only to find Ahmed finishing a session with her in the expansive, well-equipped department. After some exercises and transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation (TENS) therapy, he was compassionately massaging the child’s muscles as she was drifting off to sleep. “She will be fine,” he told me — and I believed him. They live many hours away but will stay in Carpenter village for a few weeks so the toddler can continue physiotherapy three times a week.

So, as the Leyaata team says, they are taking “small-small” (which really translates to big-big) steps every day to bring this hospital to life so that many more men, women and kids can be counted among the living and have their darkness turned into light.