Respecting Time

Already a month past, and my remaining time in Honduras dwindling fast, this past week was a collision of different time perspectives.

One of the Honduran docs caught me in between cases the other day. A patient was in the ED with a short history of abdominal pain, constipation, and vomiting worms. As he presented his patient to me with a working diagnosis of a partial obstruction caused by worms, he brought up the abdominal xray he had obtained to corroborate his differential. Questioning the large air bubble that floated above the patient's liver on the xray I followed him back to the ED to assess for myself. "Only two days," Don Rafa* reiterated, and it had been the same level of pain both days. In fact, after the dose of IV antibiotics, he was now feeling better and wanted to leave.

We took him to the OR instead. What the patient had described as two days had in truth been weeks of ignored abdominal pain. The worms themselves, more of a red herring than anything else, may have just been God's way of pushing them to finally seek intervention.

Another surgery this past week was for a syndromic appearing 23 year old boy. I call him boy as he appeared, at best, perhaps a sickly 13 year old child. He walked on sticks for legs and moved slowly for his heavy distended abdomen weighed him down. I had first met him a month ago when he was brought to my attention for a hernia. Once again the hernia, more of a red herring, trying to distract from the spleen that was taking over his abdomen. His devoted mother confessed she had been seeking surgical intervention for her son's spleen since he had been just 4 years of age, and after two decades had all but given up.

Also this past week Mom and Dad got to take healthy baby Millie* home. After waiting an extra week, a shiny new pulse oximeter bracelet was finally around her tiny hand, just for that extra level of comfort Mom and Dad needed for reassurance.

Whether waiting weeks, years, or days they were all here, at Loma de Luz, together. Their lives unrelated yet paths crossing the same point simultaneously. As I walked towards church this morning, I was stopped by my Honduran colleague who had covered the general hospital call last night. After doing surprisingly well for days in recovery, Don Rafa* had gotten up this morning and passed out. My colleague confessed, by the time he had been called and arrived at the patient's side, he no longer had vital signs. Without clear rhyme or reason, Don Rafa* had moved on from his short stopping point here at LdL.

I continued on to church where worship began. We sang...

Con mi fe Te exaltaré Con mi amor Te exaltaré Con mi ser ¡Te exaltaré!

I found myself challenged. To turn around from the news of Don Rafa's* sudden and unexpected death and immediately exalt my Lord with all I am... I had unanswered questions. It was difficult.

This week was a culmination that saw various periods of waiting come to fruition in one way or another. La hora es de Dios, is a phrase that comes to mind. The hour is God's. Even when He does not allow us the knowledge or understanding of his timing, I do believe it is in His hand. In His control. I will always turn around an exalt Him, no matter what difficult hour I may be turning from. La hora es de Dios.

Along the same theme of colliding perspectives of time, Jake was able to make it to Loma de Luz this past week bringing with him many supplies requested by the hospital including a pulse ox for a special little lady. He, of course, was immediately put to work. As to what sort of dent he will be able to make in the To Do List, only time will tell.

Much Love.

* = name change