C'est Fini

It seems like yesterday we were untying equipment, making beds, bleaching walls- turning a normal looking ship into a hospital.  The past 5 months have flown by.  As our last week of surgery came & went, it brought a sense of accomplishment of a job well done, as well as a feeling of sadness that we were done.

We are the Pirates of the OR- Arrgh!

Gratias sporting a very piratey eye patch

In the OR, we celebrate the last week of surgery & a job well done with a party & a little OR humor.  One day the OR was over runned by pirates, who happened to look like doctors & nurses.  No one walked the plank & there was no buried treasure, but I think there was a parrot, it was a great excuse to have a bit of fun & sword fights... :)

One last hug

Saying goodbye to Komla

Saying goodbye to Hougno

Hougno waves as he leaves

The hardest thing about the end of an outreach is saying goodbye to the people we’ve meet & cared for during our time here.  I had made some special bonds with a couple of boys who had been on the wards for months while they healed from their surgeries.  I often spent the evening with my buddies walking up & down the hall exercising, or just sitting & playing games or watching a movie.  We didn’t speak the same language, but that didn’t matter.  They had been with us so long it was hard to imagine the wards without their smiley faces.  When it came time for them to go home, it was heartbreaking.  I helped walk them out & plastered a big smile on my face as I helped them get into the landrovers, & waved as they drove away.  I hate goodbyes.

The ORs are packed

Packing is always an inevitable part of end of outreach preparations.  It requires a lot of time, creativity & elbow grease.  It took about 2 weeks to get the ORs ready for the high seas.  The rest of the ship was right behind us with their preparations.  Tents on the dock came down, containers packed, landrovers were lifted up onto the deck & secured.  Doctors, nurses, crew members who had been with us since we arrived have left in large groups.  The ship feels empty.

The halls are quiet, the beds are empty, the last patients have gone.  The hospital is officially closed.  All good things must come to an end & so must our time here in Togo.  The ship is ready to leave, but I wonder if I am.

Blessings