For my last day in the hospital I thought observing surgeries would be a nice chill way to end my trip, but alas, there were about 30 people waiting in minor as I walked by and I ended up staying there for 9 hours. It seemed to be a pretty typical morning with redressing, suture removal, catheter changes, etc. and I was feeling content about going out this way. The afternoon brought its own excitements however and it was probably for the best that I never made it up to the main theatre. A man came in with a huge growth on his head (I never heard the diagnosis) and we were put in the awkward position of redressing it and letting him keep the growth because the doctor’s weren’t sure what to do with him. Then a mechanic came in with his finger dangling off, followed by a man who had been literally stabbed in the back. Following these two came a “wagon pusher” (his words) who had been run over by a Matatu (van used for inner city transportation) and it was here that the passage about Jesus washing feet took on a whole new meaning for me. This guy runs all day with a wagon full of fruit behind him, with no shoes and then he came promptly into minor with foot wounds. So there I am cleaning this gentleman’s feet for 45 minutes and I think I may have removed about 10 years of asphalt. He seemed pleased with the result and his wounds were not as extensive as we all thought.
The highlight of today was George. Last night, a few of my fellow students did a night shift in the hospital and became well acquainted with this man’s injuries. From what I can gather he came in very confused, face and clothes covered in blood, and explained to all of them that he had been attacked by hooligans who robbed him. Upon examination George presented with four knife wounds to the head and one to the wrist. I received a text from Joel this morning to look out for this guy and just as I thought I was going home for the day in saunters George. I get to do the stitches on his head wounds and have to do them in a hurry because of the amount of blood that he is still losing. While he is on the table we are chatting and he wants to reassure that even though he was attacked by thugs, “change is coming”. I ask him politely that if he feels like he is going to die then he should tell me and I’ll stop what I’m doing to save his life. He laughs even though I am completely sincere and once the head wounds are all closed I feel better about him not dying. The doctor then comes in and reattaches the tendons that had been severed by the knife which should restore George’s hand function.
I left the hospital with George’s promise that the Lord is going to bless me and I feel like today has been the perfect last day in the hospital. I got to see a lot of things and do a lot of things and mostly I really feel like I helped somebody. I’m looking forward to a career where these days are not so few and far between, and I’m looking forward to what the Lord has in store, because I think we all know by now, its more than I could ever dream of.
This guy just came in for dressing and then his thumb fell off.
A dangley finger