From the Brink of Death

“He’s going to die, and I’m not sure I can handle this one.” It was mid-January, barely six weeks into our mission assignment. My husband, Stephen, had experienced a string of deaths in the past couple of weeks, and was now facing possibly the most painful of them. A little boy with big eyes and a raspy voice, very much like our own six-year-old son, had fallen from a mango tree and perforated his small intestine. When he came to the hospital, he was very thin—obviously malnourished. 

Although the surgery went well, his under-nourished body was unable to heal as it should, and he had to return to the operating room for another surgery to give him an ileostomy, where contents of the small intestine are emptied into a pouch outside the abdomen. Day after day, instead of gaining strength, he lost it. Instead of gaining weight, he continued to wither away. He looked like a living skeleton, those big eyes now sunken deep in his hollow face. Every day on rounds, Stephen would bring him a treat, attempting to encourage nutrition and weight gain. One day it was a mango; the next, it was a bag of M&Ms a visiting missionary had left for us.

He looked like a living skeleton, those big eyes now sunken deep in his hollow face.

Sometimes our best efforts—both medical and surgical—are not enough for a body that has been hanging on by a thread for so long that it has no reserve when an injury such as this takes place. The sweet little boy, with his family at his side, continued to worsen. Then, one day on rounds, Stephen found him so weak and lethargic he would not talk. His heart rate was up, his urine output was low, his body was feverish, and he looked like he was finally going to give up the fight. That was the day that Stephen came home so incredibly discouraged. That was the day we appealed in earnest to the Great Physician.

Nothing can prepare you for mission service in such a low-resource country. Nothing can prepare you for the numerous unnecessary deaths that are the norm here. Nothing can prepare you to daily practice outside your scope of practice to the best of your ability—sometimes with success, sometimes not. Nothing can prepare you for the burdens of being a doctor in a third-world country.

But when Stephen was at his lowest, God was very near. He heard our cries for this little boy, and not long after, he made a miraculous recovery. Before we left for our annual leave, he was gaining weight, walking, smiling, and healing. He was even discharged from the hospital with a GodPod in his own language to learn more about the One who alone can heal our maladies.

In Gospel Workers, we are reminded that “During His ministry, Jesus devoted more time to healing the sick than to preaching… Where He had passed, the objects of His compassion were rejoicing in health… As He passed through the towns and cities, He was like a vital current, diffusing life and joy…”[1] Our hope is that this small missionary hospital, though low-resourced and often overwhelmed, can be a place where a strong current of life and joy and healing will surge throughout this tiny corner of the world.

[1] Ellen G. White, Gospel Workers (Battle Creek, MI: Review and Herald Publishing Co., 1892), 43.