Pieces of my heart, pieces of my soul

Pieces, the good and the bad
Pieces, the happy and sad
Pieces, the wrong and the right
Pieces, that's my life
 
Last weekend, I got an invitation to go with a friend from the ship to visit Rovel. I've written about him before- of watching him turn from a shy boy who covers his face to one who hides behind corners and jumps out to scare you.

 

He had noma. It is a bacteria that eats a hole in your face. So we took some skin from his shoulder and attached it to his face (while still attached to his shoulder). Put your left ear on your left shoulder. That's how he walked around for 3 weeks. He was not pleased. That was over Christmas break.

 

Each day for 3 weeks I went to the hospital for an hour to change his dressing. We watched Elf, I introduced him to Timber and Pitbull, we watched Never Back Down, and Iron Man. Lots of movies and music. Some days he was really discouraged about how his wound looked. The best days were when he looked in the mirror and said "Yeah!" gave me a high five, and said "Thank you" in English. He was a fan of running ahead of you, hiding behind a corner, and scaring you. He thought he was 23. He was probably only 13-14. He closes his eyes during kissing scenes, I mean how old can you be?

 

He stayed with us for a long time because his wound didn't heal. He was finally able to go home in February. I saw him at outpatients appointments a couple times, but hadn't seen him since he had been discharged from the ship's care .

 

Saturday after yhe orphanage, Ryan, Charissa, and I went to visit his village. Rovel didn't know I was coming. It was one of those hugs where I really thought I was going to be knocked over. We got to meet his mom (who hadn't been on the ship with him), see where he lives, take some pictures, meet some  of his friends, have a dance party, let him walk us through his village. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then, in true African fashion, I sat in a taxi for the next 2 hours with the most passive taxi driver in all of Congo trying to get back to the ship. But it was there that I realized that these days were what it is about. It is what makes this place special.

 

I am able to walk down to the ward on my way to my room to check in on patients and no one gives you a second glance. It's about more than just our patients receiving physical healing. It's about showing them that they are loved, regardless of their physical condition. I wonder what it is like for the mommas to bring in their babies all wrapped up because their lips are gaping instead of perfect baby lips and for the nurses to scoop up that baby in their arms and smother them with kisses? Or for a man who had his nose shot off years ago to be greeted with smiles, hand shakes, and laughter from patients in various physical conditions around him?

 

I have two weeks left on the ship. What does that mean? Where do I go from here? Great questions. My life seems to be segmented into small pieces where I am having to ask these questions over and over again. And I don't know the answers yet.

 

For the next two weeks I get to love each of these patients, care for these patients; patients that, probably without knowing it, take a little piece of my heart as they make their way into mine. And that is enough for today.

 

"Pieces" - Gary Allan