July 23rd, 2009... Kenyatta Hospice

Today is the one year anniversary of the death of a sweet lady and friend Melissa Schuler. I am blessed to have had the privilege to honor her on this day by visiting a hospice houses in Nairobi.

How incredibly ironic? Teddy, I am thinking of you today! You are an amazing friend and Melissa loved you greatly! I will always remember being with you at Melissa's side. I pray your day has been filled with peace and amazing memories.

The hospice was so not what I was expecting or prepared for. My heart is so sad tonight. I don't want to write too much and make everyone reading this sad too. But I have had several requests to hear about this experience that I feel the need to share a bit now. I am sure in weeks to come I will be able to process and share better.

This hospice is affiliated with the Kenyatta Hospital. It opened in the early 1990's. Sounds great...here we are 2009, but no. Before I complain too much let me just say I don't mean it personally I believe they are doing the best they can with the resources and knowledge that they have. BUT it is difficult for me because this is an area I know we can treat people and make a difference. Tonight I am trying to believe they are doing that, but they still need so much!

I didn't get to talk to the staff as much as I had hoped nor did I get to see many patients. So that is disappointing but what I did get to be involved with is a surreal experience.

Upon arriving I learned that this facility is open 11am to 2pm weekdays. People can come during that time to have their symptoms addressed, see the doctor and/or the 2 nurses that work there. They can stay the whole time in the community room if they want. Upon doing that they can receive hot tea and bread and a full lunch.

We were initially directed to the community room where I was introduced to a lady with breast cancer. With Marion's help interpreting I learned she lived in Kibera slum. Had walked to the hospital yesterday with assistance from her son. He is 30, married with 2 small children, also living in the slum. Her other son lives..."up country". No, nope, no,no way he can make it here.

She noticed a lump last July but in December it "exploded". She was barefoot and cold.

The hospital only gave her a few medicines including ibuprofen for pain, would not admit her, but allowed her to lay on the floor. In the morning feeling still too weak to make the trip home they directed her and her son to the hospice house. They had until two to rest.

It just goes on and on.... I rubbed her back, learned she hadn't urinated in one month. could that be? Her pain is in her back, but felt good when I rubbed it. We encouraged some tea which she took. She then cried in pain and showed me her stomach. I could palpate her liver. I asked her son, since I couldn't get the nurses attention what medicine she had and pulled out the packets (2 weeks worth of meds only) to show me. I understood 2, sleep medicine and a steriod. At this time I found a nurse to explain to me the other... B complex, and ibuprofen. 3 tablets a day. Jill are you reading this? I told the nurse she was hurting more than this and needed morphine, the nurse disagreed. I got the medicines together and reviewed them with her son. At that point I learned she hadn't had anything today. It was 12 noon. WHAT?? I got them out and Marion got her some water. Then she felt tired and wanted to lay down. We helped on the sofa and covered her and I looked at her bare cold feet that still had to walk to her home in the slum. I asked permission from her to give her my socks. She agreed and said they felt comfortable once I got them on her. I hope they held up for her walk home. A little while later she started crying out, screaming in pain. The hospice nurse full of compassion came in and yelled at her to stop screaming, she was "embarrassing them". But I told her to scream if she needed to. They listened, she was escorted back to an exam room and given some morphine. Our last visit with her she was resting, awake and smiling. Expressing thanks. I am trying to remember her face at that moment rather than all the rest. BUT really how hard was that to make her feel good, if even for only a short time.

There is so much more to this day, like the awesome conversation I had with her son and leading him to the Lord, another visit to Kibera, but way too much to write and if you are reading you probably need a break like me.

The highlight though was before the morphine during her our time in the community room, she asked if we would help her accept Jesus. We did nothing but rub her back and start talking to her. I learned that she was once married and had a vegetable stand. But her husband was killed in a traffic accident when her two boys were little. The church helped her for awhile, but they ran out of money and eventually had to move into the slum. She used to sell coal in the slum and enjoyed that. But since getting sick she can not do that even. She is lonely and wishes for us to visit her in her home. She is behind in her rent in the slum and her neighbors are bothering her to leave. She has been screaming at night in pain and they don't want to hear it. Then out of the blue she said I want Jesus. Brenda led her in prayer. It was beautiful. She said she had refused to bow her knees or lift her hands, but she was tired of the suffering and had suffered enough.

We all need, no matter what color of our skin, what nation we live in, what social status we find ourselves in, a back rub, a listening ear and maybe a warm pair of socks.