Screening

My past two days have been spent at the Halle de Artes here in Cotonou helping with the patient screening to book surgeries for the next ten months. Everything about this experience was unforgettable. I arrived with my team at 6:00 am Thursday morning to a line of hundreds of people waiting to see the doctors. Many had arrived the previous morning and spent the night in line, and as the day progressed, more than 1,900 patients came our way! First, they were pre-screened by a group of doctors and nurses to decide whether they had a condition that our surgeons could help. Mercy Ships only does a specific set of surgeries including maxillo-facial tumor removal, vaginal fistula repair, orthopedic corrections for children, plastic surgery to increase mobility after trauma, hernia repair, and a few others. About half of these patients received cards allowing them to pass beyond the check point, and my job was to escort them inside the building and to the registration line where they were given several forms to serve as charts. After this, they went to have their histories taken and then to see a doctor who specializes in their specific problem. If these doctors determined that we could help the patient, he or she was sent to have a physical, then to schedule the surgery. We also had a pathology station set up as well as a lab and pharmacy to offer additional treatment and aide in diagnosis. The whole procedure probably took about five hours for one patient to pass through!

I can't even begin to describe the extent of the medical problems I saw--things I never believed existed. We saw facial tumors so large that they completely obstructed vision and distorted half the face. There were goiters the size of cantaloupes, bow legged children who could barely walk, men and women badly disfigured by burns, cleft lips in kids that were five years old, club feet, and bone deformations forcing some patients to be carried. The problems were so exaggerated. Many patients had lived with them for years and years, and only now, with the arrival of Mercy Ships, were able to seek treatment. It was wonderful to see their faces when we told them we could offer a surgery that would fix their problems, but so difficult when we had to turn them away. There were two people today with large facial outgrowths who completed the entire process only to discover (after needle pricks and pathology analysis) that they had Hodgkin's lymphoma, a disease we are unable to treat. It was like sending the patients off into nothing--there is only one hospital in Benin that can treat this form of cancer, though it is very curable in the the Western world. This treatment costs 20 times the annual income of the average Beninese person. As I escorted these patients to the prayer station, I didn't allow myself to comprehend the full meaning of the words, "There is nothing we can do." Fortunately, we serve a greater power, a loving God who will make treatment for these patients possible if it is in his plan and who will love them regardless of their physical appearances.

Today, I was blessed to follow one of the head and neck surgeons as he made diagnoses on all the facial tumors. It was incredible--I have never wanted to be a doctor more! Sitting next to him, feeling the masses and learning the pathology was so interesting. I learned the look and feel of lymphoma, vascular deformities, goiters, nuero-fibroloma, and nodules caused by TB. What a chance of a life time! I'll be able to watch some of the surgeries that I helped diagnose as we begin operations this coming Tuesday.

We were not allowed to take any pictures of the patients, but I wish you could see what I saw--it's the only way to really know my experience. If you are curious, go to the Mercy Ships website and look at the before and after photos. What seems like the worst cases were actually the typical. Imagine walking beside these patients, praying with them, helping them find their seats, listening and watching while they patiently waited to be seen. I am exhausted, but deeply moved. This is something I will always remember.