As a nurse on the mission field, often when people speak to
me the conversation begins with them saying, “So, you’re a nurse….” The
statements that follow those dots are endless. I get requests for medical advice,
medications from the “Ippel pharmacy,” breastfeeding help, boil lancing… really
nothing surprises me anymore. I WAS surprised,
though, on Friday morning when I got a voicemail from a woman at the American
embassy in here in Managua saying that they were looking for a nurse with a US
passport who could transport a patient to Houston the next morning. My initial response was, ‘No way! That sounds terrifying’ (in my head, of
course). In all honesty, I delayed
returning the phone call in hopes that someone else would respond before
me. And someone had! When I called back, she thanked me for
calling but said they already had found a doctor to do it. I was mostly relieved, and only a teensy bit disappointed
(I always like an adventure, if only to have a story to tell!). A couple hours later, though, I got a text
message saying “I heard you are willing to take Fred to Houston tomorrow.” All
the fear and excitement came flooding back to me as I rushed to Andrew to ask
his opinion (for the millionth time) about the situation. After a long exchange of texts, in which I
learned more of the specifics of the situation—Fred (not his real name) was an American man who had
been working in Managua when he suffered a stroke which left him paralyzed on
the left side and now need to get back to the US for more advanced care and
rehabilitation—I hit the send button on a text that said “I will do it.” To be
completely honest once again, my decision to say yes was based on, yes, my
desire to help this man who desperately needed to get back to a good hospital
and his family, but also the generous sum of money they were offering me to do
it (so don’t think I am a wonderful person and all). As soon as I committed, I
went straight to work brushing up on my nursing skills and knowledge of the
care of a person who has had a stroke by doing google searches and watching
youtube videos (during which Andrew concluded that with enough youtube videos,
he could be just as qualified as I am to take on the task). I was pretty
nervous that whole day, and got increasingly more nervous as Andrew and the
kids drove me to the hospital the next day to meet Fred (it didn’t help my
nervousness that by this point there was a conspiracy theory that Fred didn’t
exist at all and the whole thing was just a scam—How did I know it was really
the American Embassy that had called? I emailed my passport to a total
stranger?). Many people were praying for
me, though, and as soon as I met Fred and his friends who had been caring for
him, I transitioned immediately back into my familiar role of “nurse,” and
everything seemed natural. As I got to
know Fred in the hospital and then as we rode in the back of an ambulance to
the airport, my empathy for him grew.
How awful would it be to be in a foreign country, away from all of your
family and everything familiar and have a devastating stoke that would change
your life forever? I did my best to make
an unpleasant, awkward, and dignity robbing situation the best it possibly
could be—as we flew from Managua to Houston we chatted about golf courses across
the US (THAT was the youtube video I should have been watching!), airplane
food, and the population of cities in Texas, and I did my best to make the
situation seem normal. The whole trip
went exceptionally well considering the severity of the situation, but I cannot
tell you how relieved I was to deliver Fred to the paramedics waiting for him
on the other side of customs in the Houston airport. I completely recognize God’s faithfulness in
the situation because it is something I would have never had the strength and
courage to do alone. I was in Houston
for 13 short hours (most of them spent sleeping, the others spent enjoying the luxuries
of being in the United States—watching House Hunters in English in an air
conditioned room!) before returning home to my family in Managua the next
morning. And now tomorrow, just 3 days
later, we head back to the airport to return “home” for the summer. . .and
then I’ll decide whether it is easier to travel with 3 small children or a man
with severe medical needs. . .I am thinking I already know the answer!
