Past prayer.

My prayer for Denis…

When we first arrived in August, we were shocked at the reality that existed here in Pucallpa, Peru. We were living only a few kilometers away from people who had never seen medical personnel before in their lives and if they had, they did not know a deadly disease to a harmless one.

I remember our "intense" week of medical campaigns, the boys were doing their dental training, and their were only a few of us in the pharmacy. At the time Jasmine was sick and had to stay at km 38 for the day and Breanne had just arrived and was helping us in the pharmacy. Without Jasmine by my side the only thing that echoed through my head was the words that Cecilia, one of the doctors on site, loved to reiterate to me, "You are in charge of the Pharmacy…" and the words that I always added to the end of that phrase, " Do not screw up!" We arrived to kilometer 4 or 6 (it was a long time ago… my memory fails me sometimes), and it was a cramped area to work in, but we had to make it work. We had helped about a little over 80 patients when finally this woman approached me. She started asking me a few questions about her medicine she just received then started telling me about her nephew who was at home and was sick. Apparently, he had had diarrhea, vomiting, and with a fever for a little over three days and he was only a year old. A moment later, he was in front of me, wrapped in blanket and motionless. His diagnosis was quick and obvious. In front of me lay Denis, a baby boy who was severely dehydrated, among other things. I stared at that slip of paper that was in my hands… And I was snapped back into reality when the doctor yelled over to me that the IV needed to be done at that very moment. As I looked for the equipment needed to make this happen, I realized I am not the least bit competent to successfully put an IV in a baby. As I threw things out of the boxes the next problem had arisen, we had no equipment.

 Everything seems kind of hazy now, but somehow after a couple of minutes of yelling and a bit of confusion on everyone's part (ask me about it and I will tell you more details), I ended up on the back of a pastor's motorcycle riding to the nearest botica to buy the supplies needed. Mind you, that was my first time on a motorcycle and I kept thinking… with a stranger… no, a pastor… HA! Well, when I returned from that adventure and back to Denis, the next task was holding the baby down, making a brace out of tongue depressors, and calling the doctor to help me with the IV (which was not easy…) After some tearless cries from Denis, some sweaty foreheads for the nurses and doctor, and shaking a whole lot on my part that baby was partially hydrated. Hydrated enough to keep him alive. My mind goes back to that moment when I held Denis' hand; it was scaly, dry, and motionless. I remember fighting my tears as I watched him lay in his mothers arms (whom at the time seemed to be the most emotionless woman I had ever encountered because of her lack of compassion for her own son). I could not help but sit and watch him fight for life because as I was told couple more day and he could have died from dehydration. God had sent us there for Denis that day and I will never forget how thankfully I was that He did. 

Lord, you have yet to cease amazing me. 

I love you.

♥.