Zaks story...continued

Update to Zaks story:  ( I wrote his story from the beginning in an earlier post which you can still read )

As you know, Zak has been walking to my house daily now for 2 years where he would sit on a bucket in my bathtub while I poured water over his wound and changed the bandages. We both came to enjoy our ‘bucket talks’ as we discussed a variety of subjects over the years--from homework to his education dreams of the future, GIRLS, and of course, God’s love and care for Zak. We have forged a close friendship.

The plan was to seek skin graft surgery in July when Dr. V, a foreign plastic surgeon, volunteers at Soddo Hospital in another town about 4 hours drive from Arba Minch.

So all year we waited and looked forward for July to come. Then I got an email that Dr. V would not be coming this year. What was I going to tell Zak? He would be crushed! I prayed that God would send someone else to help Zak. Sure enough, God had Plan A ready. (I’m sure that what I thought MY plan was, was actually plan B.....) 

Our friend and surgeon, Dr. Barry had gone home to Austrailia to get a double knee and hip replacement last winter. We assumed he would stay there and retire for good this time (he is 80-something years old!). But no way can you keep this old warhouse down!

He returned (to our surprise) in July to Arba Minch-one week after I got the disappointing email from Dr. V.

So- Dr. Barry calls up an old friend in Addis who now works at Korean Hospital.

Dr S personally meets with Zak and I and refers us to Dr. Y who is a plastic surgeon at Korean Hospital. Zak was admitted to Korean Hosp and after 4 days was prepped for skin graft surgery. 

Dr. Y looked at Zaks wound and decided NOT to do surgery and instead he recommended a consultation by a dermatologist at Alert Hospital. He wanted to get another opinion on the best course of action. He actually went even farther by telephoning this Dermatology doctor and getting us an appointment the next day.( Later we were told that it takes months to get an appointment with him.) And then several days later, he called us just to see how Zak was doing! How many doctors who are no longer taking care of you will call to see how you are??

Then, Dr. D  the derm doc was late for our appointment, but he sent a nurse ahead of him to personally walk us through the whole registering process. The nurse was named “Captain” and he had worked there for over 30 years. He knew EVERYBODY.

He marched us right to the head of the line (we tried not to look at the many people we past in front off) and got us checked in and then left us sitting inside the docs office waiting. Out in the hallway were at least 30 people waiting to see him too........

The doctor decided to admit Zak for 2 months for treatment. But when Captain and I went to admit him, there were no beds available. We would have to return home and come back in 3 weeks. 

So after I pleaded with ‘the Captain’ and asked isn’t there anywhere he can stay-maybe even the pediatric ward???  he winked at me and went to work. We went to the Pediatric ward and spoke to the doctor there. Dr M  did not want to admit a 17 yr old boy into a Pediatric ward--but after some very smooth manuevering by Captain, she finally agreed. When we both closed the door to her office I hugged Captain and we both did the happy dance!!

I was so happy to get Zak admitted, I didnt care where he went. But Zak did.

He was not very thrilled about the idea of sharing a room with a bunch of little children and babies. And he DEFINATELY wasn’t going to wear the snoopy pajama tops.

So we all compromised and he wore his own tshirts, but the hospital jammie pants.

After a couple days Zak admitted that he really did like being in the babies ward-’no bad smells’ he said. But the foam earplugs I offered him did come in handy!!

What I see is that God is ALWAYS out in front of us-preparing the way. We never have to fear the future or what will happen because if we are living within His will, we are never alone. God puts certain people in our path (Dr. V and Dr. Barry) and that connection leads to another person (Dr. S and Dr. Y) and another connection (Dr. D, Dr. M and ‘Captain”) ---and before we know it the solution presents itself.

My friend LeAnn calls them ‘God winks’ and I know they are true. Sometimes I feel that God is ‘winking’ at me all day long! What a great way to live-with the eye of the Father continually on you. 

Today is Friday and I was astonished to see the progress that Zaks’ wound has made in one week!

I am so thrilled. The combination of drugs and medicines are working.

I have to leave him here in the hospital and return home to Arba Minch and my sweet husband Tom for a few weeks. Then I will return back to stay with Zak- I can’t wait to see his progress then!! Keep this guy in your prayers, please! 

Zak outside Korean Hospital in Addis.

This is Ashu. He was the taxi driver that picked us up at the airport and
and drove us around Addis a few days. He became friends with Zak
and has visited him at both hospitals. He even brought his wife and child to
meet Zak. The kindness of 'strangers'.........

Zak did NOT want to wear the Snoopy jammies!

Monument outside Korean Hospital.

Teenage boy complaining about the small size of his dinner plate!

Zaks veins are very small and difficult to find. He endured numerous stickings
 by several nurses trying to get in his IV.

Zak and his smile of triumph! He gets to wear his own shirts.

You better behave, boy!!  (yeah, he is really scared..)

Bearing Basha's Burden

Basha Banto is a man who suffered from osteoporosis for many years. For me and most women, osteoporosis is only a condition that doctors scare us about so we take our Boniva pills. At least for me, it was.....
I didn’t know men could get it. And I sure didn’t know the devastation it could wreck in a body.
Basha’s friends told me that he used to be quite tall- almost 6 feet. This is considered very unusual for Ethiopians. He was a by all accounts a good father (6 children) and husband-a regular church goer.
For the past year, he has been confined to a hospital bed. His body had wasted down over the years from this disease until he was a twisted torso with bent and crippled hands. His once long legs were now almost childlike in size. He was on oxygen 24/7 His faithful wife and family came every day and stayed throughout the day to help take care of him.
He was dying, the family knew that. There was nothing the hospital could do for him as far as treatment goes. But the problem is that morally, the hospital could not release him to his home because of the almost daily power outages in our town. There is no way to predict when the electricity will go out- no pattern at all. Without the oxygen on, Basha would only live 12-15 mins.
Now here is where Tom and I come into the story. While I was visiting a friend who was in the hospital, Bashas’ wife also visits my friend. They have gone to church together for many years.
She asked me if I would come meet her husband and pray with him.
Of course I went and my buddy Liul, (my 15 yr old sunday morning Bible story translator) came with me. I was moved by the cheerful personality of this woman who was named Mestewat-and this poor little man who was determined to live ‘ for his children to have a father’

Later when we were driving home, Liul remarked that the family wanted Basha to be able to come home and live the remainder of his days in his own bed surrounded by family and neighbors and friends. But they have no generator-and without that- no mahbrat (electricity) I talked to Tom about maybe buying a generator to give them and he immediately said “lets give him ours.” (What a sweet guy, huh?) Our generator was a super duper industrial strength gas generator and would be more than enough to power the oxygen machine when the power goes out. So we talked to the doctor and nurses to make sure Basha could take the oxygen machine home with him. They immediately said yes and rejoiced! Some of the nurses even cried at this good news.

We then told Basha and his wife and you can imagine the joy that beamed across their faces! Basha was finally going home!!! wow- you wouldn’t believe all the hugs and kisses and “Hallelujahs” we got then! But then the hospital financial dept. started to hit them with the bill-a whole year of hospital residence. This would have crushed them- they could never hope to pay for all that. Through the efforts of Dr. Yappo, we convinced the administration to waive the charges-since we were ‘relieving them of a moral quandry’. The next day Tom and some family members loaded up the generator and took it to Bashas house to make sure it would work there. We even made several trial

runs of how to start it up quickly while one of us pretended to be Basha gasping for air when the mahbrat goes out. Everyone was laughing good naturedly and joking while the eldest son who had the responsibility of starting the generator, paid close attention to Toms’ instructions.
The whole family was so happy. We were too. They planned the next day to invite us for a special coffee ceremony after Basha was brought home- it would be a real celebration!
Tom and I went to bed excited at being a part of something special.

Mestewat grieving over the sudden change in events.

The next morning around 11:00am Tom and I arrived at the hospital to bring Basha home. Tom had put a mattress in the back of the truck and brought along a small battery and converter to power the oxygen during transport.
When we got to the hospital and went to Bashas room-it was empty.
Basha had died that morning only a few hours earlier. We stood there in shock.
The doctor was tearing up as he told us the news. The body had already been taken home and the funeral was being held at 2:00 that afternoon.
There are no refrigeration morgue facilities, so this is the necessary way things are done here. I don’t know how the word gets around so quickly- I really don’t. But by the time we arrived at the home, a tent had been erected in the road beside their tiny house. Mourners had already filled up the yard and tent with an overflow crowd along the road.
One of the unusual customs (at least to us) is that everyone openly weeps-even the men. As they wait in line to give their condolences they are straight faced but as soon as they start touching the widow they break down crying. I had seen this behavior once before in our first year in Ethiopia when a man was murdered. Tom and I knew his father and he called us when he first discovered the body of his son. We got there before the police- but when they arrived, the first thing the policemen did was look into the room at the crime scene and then they all started weeping. It was startling to see professional policemen show emotion like that.  Back to Bashas funeral....... So many people came, bearing the grief of the family with them.Dr. Yappo and some of the nurses even came, weeping.....
I sat and watched the faces of the people- the widow who was completely devastated by this sudden reversal of events. I just couldn’t grasp it- this was supposed to be a day of rejoicing! Instead, we had a funeral.
When it was over, several men made their way through the crowd toward me. I knew what was coming. They wanted me to drive my truck with the coffin in the back to the cemetery. It was several miles away and although the mourners would walk it was a long way to carry the body.....and so I became the hearse driver.

Basha’s mother was frail and was wearing no shoes-she could barely walk- and so she rode in the cab with me-her son in a wooden box covered in a flowered sheet from a bed.
Several hundred mourners walked behind me as we slowly made our way to the cemetery-just a patch of raw, wild land. The hole had already been dug. The coffin was lowered into the ground. It was quickly covered over with cement. This was done while the crowd and family stood off a ways and listened to a preacher. Then the mourning really got intense. The widow began wailing and slapping her face. She threw herself backwards relying on friends to catch her before she hit the ground.The eldest son tore

Basha's mother

off his shirt and fell to the ground weeping as his friends consoled him. This is their traditional way of mourning but it really made me so sad. They mourned as if they had no hope.
I’m not really sure why Tom and I played a part in all this. Maybe to give a family hope- short- lived as it was. Maybe to show that we really are all brothers in this life together. Jesus taught that we should each bear one anothers’ burdens......and for a short time, Tom and I were privileged to be a part of the burden-bearing process.