How to Turn a Ship into a Hospital

The AFM at dock

Over the past month & a half, our ship has been just a ship.  We’ve sailed around from one country to the next.  We know we are a hospital, but it didn’t look like it for quite awhile.  Once we arrived in Togo, we began the long process of turning this ship into the world’s largest NGO floating hospital.  

Going from this....

To this

How do you do that you ask?  A lot of hard work. 

We had to strip & wax all the floors in the ORs, check all the equipment, restock supplies, clean & clean & clean.  Who would have thought that a ship at sea could get so dirty!  Each week, we would get more & more help as nurses would arrive, which made things easier- many hands make light work.  We met & greeted our day workers, local people who have been hired to help us communicate with our patients & help with keeping the hospital running.  One morning, we had a practice hospital evacuation drill, where we practiced what we would do if we had to abandon ship with all the patients, some on the wards, some in PACU & some still in surgery.

Resterilizing all the instruments

Evacuated patients on the dock

Meeting our day workers

The last thing we do is bleach everything down, making it completely ready for patients.  Before that though, we were open for tours & activities.  One evening we invited our partners in Togo to come visit the ship, giving them tours of the hospital.  The next night, we opened up to the crew to come down & see the side of the ship that many won’t get to see unless they work in the hospital.  We had games & activities like- “be a nurse for a day”, a suturing station, an intubation station, bed pan toss & dress up like a surgeon.  It was a big hit. 

Welcome to our OR

Visitors learn how to intubate

Become a surgeon

Learn how to suture

The next day, we went sterile.  We’ve spent 2 days completely bleaching the ORs from top to bottom, twice.  We now look like a hospital.  The wards are set up, PACU is clean & unpacked, the ORs are sterile & ready for surgeries.  Now all we need are patients.  Screening day is coming up & soon the wards will be full.  Can’t wait!

Blessings

Bienvenue vers le Togo

We arrived in Lomé, Togo (the capital) safely around 6pm Jan 5, 2012, after a full day of sailing from Tema, Ghana.  We had a nice reception waiting for us on the dock when we arrived.

Carrying the Togolese flag down the gangway

I want to share a little about my home for the next 6 months.

During the time of the slave trade, Togo was a popular trading center, earning the name “the Slave Coast”.  In 1884, Germany declared Togoland a protectorate, but after WWI, it was given to the British & the French in 1914.  Togoland was then split by the 2 countries into the French-speaking Togo & the English-speaking Ghana.  Togo became an independent country in 1960, followed by a military coup in 1963 that put Eyadema Gnassingbe in power.  This dictator served until his death in 2005.  Elections were held soon after in a bid for democracy. 

Togo is roughly the size of West Virginia at about 22,000 square miles, with a population size comparative to Washington State (roughly 6,619,000 people- or 302 people/sq mile).    It is divided into 5 regions or states.  French is the official language, but several tribal languages are the primary language in the different regions.  Approximately one half of the population lives below the international poverty line of $1.25 a day.  About 51% of the population has indigenous beliefs, 29% is Christian, and 20% Muslim.

Infant mortality was at 78 per 1,000 live births in 2005.  Male life expectancy at birth was at 56 in 2005, whereas it was at 59.6 for females.  There were 4 physicians per 100,000 people in the early 2000s.  As of 2010, the maternal mortality rate per 100,000 births for Togo was 350, compared with 447.1 in 2008 and 539.7 in 1990. The under 5 mortality rate, per 1,000 births is 100 and the neonatal mortality as a percentage of under 5's mortality is 32. 

The Harmattan Winds create a hazy, grey day

The Harmattan winds (theses are winds from Northern Africa that pick up sand & fine dust particles from the Sahara & blow it across West Africa) have been blowing since we’ve gotten here, making it very hazy & the air is full of dust & sand, but it keeps the heat down, even though everything gets very dirty & dusty.

Things are progressing well as we get ready to start surgeries.  I’ll update soon with some of the details what that entails. 

Blessings 

Why We Do What We Do

Hi all,  it's been almost a month since we've had any patients on board & it'll be another month before we have any again (this time in Togo).  This transition time is hard on people, especially nurses, who are used to working & caring for patients.  So I'm posting a story that one of my friends from Gateway (who is one of the ship's writers) wrote about a patient to give you (& remind me) an idea of why we do what we do....

Mamodu Mattia

Mamodu & Mohammad wait anxiously
for the admissions process to begin

Mamodu Mattia is a teenager with an amazing smile, but you would not see it if you passed him on the street. He covers his front teeth with his lower lip, trying to hide the fact that he has a cleft lip – anything to keep the attention away from his mouth. His brother, Mohammad Mattia, stands watch over him, trying to protect him from harm.

The last time Mamodu and Mohammad’s family needed a doctor was three years ago when their mother was going through a difficult labor. She died, and the baby died several hours later. Sadly, their father was killed on the same day in a farming accident when a tree fell on him. Mamodu was only 14 when these tragedies struck.



Their extended family refused to take care of Mamodu for fear of any curses associated with his cleft lip. They felt his parents’ death was Mamodu’s fault. The brothers’ situation was made even worse by the fact that Mamodu is deaf and has no training in sign language. How could he take care of himself when he could not communicate with anyone?



So Mohammad left their extended family to take care of his brother. They have been on their own ever since, trying to make a way for themselves.



Before his parents died, Mamodu attended school. He loved school, but, after his parents’ death, he could no longer afford it. Mohammad worked tirelessly in the fields trying to save enough money to send Mamodu to school, but there was never enough. When Mohammad realized that Mamodu was too old for school, he taught his brother how to farm so they could work together. This helped Mohammad keep an eye on Mamodu at all times. Their extended family and other villagers were always mean to Mamodu, and the fact that he couldn’t hear them made him an easy prey.

A man named Abu Yeva changed everything for the two brothers. He told them about a medical screening conducted by Mercy Ships. It seemed too good to be true, and Mohammad was afraid to allow himself to hope. He did not know how much his brother understood, but he could already envision an easier, better life on the horizon. After receiving an appointment, they traveled for five hours to the ship. They were filled with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

Mohammad watches as Mamodu has blood samples taken

When it came time for the nurses to take blood samples from Mamodu, Mohammad instinctively stood guard over his brother. He was still unsure of what they were going to do to Mamodu. He had years of experience protecting his brother from the cruelty of this world, but now Mercy Ships was treating him with such care and kindness. As their time with Mercy Ships continued, both brothers’ spirits started to lift, and they began to trust the help offered to them.

Mamodu takes the first steps onto the gangway

while Mohammad stands back apprehensively

Mamodu is curious about what the nurse is doing to him





Ever-vigilant Mohammad watches carefully as
Mamodu finishes admissions



Mamodu’s stitches come out!

On their last day on the Africa Mercy, Mamodu was found looking in the mirror, admiring his new face. Mohammad was playing games with children on the ward.






After the stitches are removed, Mamodu & Mohammad
see the amazing transformation for the first time

Mamodu & Mohammad admire
Mamodu’s new reflection

Mamodu takes one last look at the ward
before he is discharged

Now both brothers are filled with more joy than they have known in years, as evidenced by their constant smiles. As Mohammad holds a child from the hospital, he says, “If it weren’t for Abu Yeva and Mercy Ships, Mamodu would not have been helped. I am so happy for my brother! Thank you Mercy Ships!”




Mamodu & Mohammad final walk down the
gangway with spirits lifted high



Mamodu & Mohammad leave for home one week
after their lives were transformed

December 2011
Story by Nicole Pribbernow
Edited by Nancy Predaina
Photos by Debra Bell  

Hope you enjoyed your holidays.  Happy New Year!

Blessings