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| Kamda and Yamul with Lori's little brother |
So I stopped and looked back through
some files that I haven't accessed for years, and there it was.
Interestingly, I had included many of the same peripheral information
then as I was including in the new version. There were a few
facts that were told differently than I now remember them. The
earlier version is more likely to be right. The "reminder"
alluded to above was a conversation with Kamda and Yamul, the parents
who adopted the baby in the story. My old version was closer to what
they told me than were my later recollections.
As I read the old story, I realized
that I probably couldn't tell it any better now than I did then. Let
me just paste old version with just a little editing, and then I'll
tell you the "rest of the story".
We
called her Susie. Her "real" name was Winda, but many
PNG people have several names, and change them at different times and
for different reasons.
On
the maternity ward I don't often have a chance to get to know
the patients well. Even here with our high infant
mortality rates, most women come in labor and leave a few days later
with their healthy child, and do not require much attention from the
doctor. Not so with Susie. She came to Nazarene
Hospital initially from her home in the Jimi Valley because her
abdomen was swollen to a much greater size than could be explained by
her 7 months of pregnancy. When I first saw her, I allowed
myself a brief hope that maybe she was carrying twins or triplets.
But as soon as I examined her I knew it was something far worse.
Her huge abdomen was filled, not with a term-pregnant uterus, but
with fluid. There is a short list of possible reasons for this
condition, and none of them are good.
There
is a medical superstition about things coming in threes, and this was
following that tradition. When she came in last November, she
was the third similar case I'd seen within a few weeks. The
first had delivered successfully, had come back a few times after
that, and then had been lost to follow-up, presumably because of
death. The second delivered, then was quickly taken home
by her family to die. In reality, she probably died shortly
before or while being carried out by her relatives. I don't
know anything about either baby.
It
was with a true heaviness of heart that I confirmed the diagnosis
with ultrasound; normal-sized uterus with a vigorous-looking,
thirty-week fetus, a huge sea of watery fluid and a small,
shrunken liver. Cirrhosis, probably caused by a hepatitis B
infection. What, I wondered, would be this child's future?
If we could delay delivery for a few weeks, she would have a fighting
chance. But then what? Motherless children in PNG are
usually cared for by relatives, or by their father's new wife.
Often they are loved and well cared for, but not always. There
are always problems with what to feed them. Many have a
relative who still has breast milk, and who is willing to nurse them,
but not all.
So
I admitted Susie to our maternity ward, and she was there long enough
to get to know her well. At first she was fearful of
everything. She was physically very small (as are many people
from the Jimi), and came from a very remote place, the village
of Kwipun. She had had little or no contact with modern
technology (even the paltry bit that we have) or with
expatriates. But it didn't take long for her to realize that
she need only expect to be treated with kindness. Then her
natural sunny disposition became evident. There are many Jimi
people who work here at Kudjip station, and they quickly rallied
around to make her feel welcome and safe.
At
first she showed signs of premature labor, so we gave medicines to
stop that, and medicines to try to prepare the infant should we fail
in our efforts to delay delivery. If we could just buy a few
weeks' time, the baby would be mature enough to make it in the
"outside" world. After nearly a month in the
hospital, Susie went into labor, and delivered a beautiful baby girl.
We
didn't know whether to measure Susie's expected life-span in weeks or
months or years, but we optimistically performed a tubal ligation on
her, in case she recovered and lived long enough to get pregnant
again. We needn't have worried. We discharged her at
first to stay with relatives who live nearby, but after her follow-up
visit, she went home to the Jimi. I know the doctors who work
at the small health center near her home, and I sent a note to them
along with her, and instructed her to follow up with them as needed.
Then she was gone from my life. I thought of her from time to
time, and wondered what might have become of her and her baby.
I thought that maybe some day I would have a chance to ask the
doctors from the health center if they had had any contact with her.
But that was all.
Until
Lorrie arrived on A Ward. Lorrie had pneumonia, but not a
severe case, as far as severe pneumonias go here. She is a
chubby, bright, happy healthy baby girl of about 8 months. She
seemed secure and happy. She has evidently had some contact
with BUWGs (Big Ugly White Guys) as she didn't seem too afraid of
me. She would even smile for me when I saw her on rounds.
Her mother was attentive and competent, answering my questions
clearly as she sat nursing her baby.
It
was only after she had been in the hospital for a few days that one
of our nurse's aids who is from the Jimi, slipped up beside me while
I was seeing Lorrie. "Do you remember the patient Susie
who was on bed B-5 last November? She had bad liver disease."
I had to think for a moment before the memories of Susie's
hospitalization came flooding back. Yes, of course I
remember her. "This is the baby that she carried here; she
died just two or three weeks later. This mother has adopted the
baby. She has never carried a child, but she has breast milk
for the baby."
"Yes,"
added one of our nurses, "she took some Metamide, and now she
has plenty of milk for the baby." "Plenty?" I
asked incredulously. "Plenty?"
"Yes,
plenty," said the mom, as well as several others more or less at
once. "Plenty!"
Lorrie
is clearly well-nourished. She hasn't had formula. Baby
formula is very expensive here. It would take more than most
families' entire income to supply a baby with formula if they
have to buy it at the drug store. We give some away as we are
able. People feed babies the milk that is available here,
sometimes watered down. Sometimes they feed them Milo, which is
a chocolate powder that you can add to milk to make a tasty beverage
that is popular here. More often people have to mix it
with water to feed the baby. Milo in water has little or no
nutritional value. But it is all some babies get. Even
worse, many families use unsafe water sources, either out of
ignorance or necessity. We give either or both of two medicines
to adopting moms that can sometimes stimulate some milk production,
but this is usually not very successful, especially if they have not
had a baby recently.
But
here was this miracle right before my eyes. Lorrie's dad is
Kamda, a cousin of Susie's. He teaches at Melanesia Nazarene
Bible College, and directs the Extension Bible College program for
pastors who cannot attend school full-time. He and his wife
Yamul had not been able to birth children, but now they are the
obviously-proud parents of Lorrie. As an adoptive father, I
could relate to their happiness.
Romans
8:28 reads, "And we know that God causes everything to work
together
for
the good of those who love God and are called according to his
purpose for them. (Holy
Bible : New Living Translation.
1997 (Ro 8:28). Wheaton, Ill.: Tyndale House.) I have to admit
that I struggle with the application of that verse many times.
Did God allow Susie to die, just so that Kamda and Yamul could have a
baby? No, I don't think so. But in a world where sin
and evil still exist, God takes terrible circumstances and brings
good out of them for His glory.
So, that's the story I told in
February, 2005. Since then, Kamda has become the District
Superintendent of the Bromley District of the Church of the Nazarene,
which includes the Jimi Valley. To be honest, I had failed to make
the connection between Kamda, the new DS of the Bromley District, and
the couple of the story above. But this past Wednesday evening I had
the chance to visit with him and his wife Yamul, and they reminded
me. They mentioned that their daughter Lorie was a baby that I had
helped to bring into the world. With a few reminders, the story came
back to me.
Lorie is now a happy healthy 9 year
old, and is in grade 3. Kamda and Yamul have now adopted 5 children.
She has successfully breast-fed all of them. As I was visiting with
them a 4 year old was sleeping contentedly on his dad's lap.
Most of the patients I take care of
come into my life for a short time. For many, they come for a
relatively-minor problem, and there really isn't much of a story.
For those that I've been more deeply-involved with, they may come
back, but many times see a different doctor. Or they come for a new
problem, and don't realize that I don't remember the earlier events,
or they assume that I wouldn't be interested in being reminded. So
there often isn't any "rest of the story". But I love it
when there is!
AB
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