Let me introduce you to Daouda (David). This is truly one of the bravest little kids I've ever met. He's not a big fan of me right now (lots of shots and dressing changes lately...) despite my constant efforts to keep him hooked up with candy and coloring books.
Because of his deformity, he had to wear this ski-hood every time he went out into public. You can imagine how warm this was.
When he was four, Daouda was burned. The resulting scar pulled his lower lip down to his collar bone. This severely limited the movement in his neck, and held his mouth constantly open. It also pulled on his left eye and ear.
This is a picture of Daouda a couple days after surgery. You can see we were able to free up his lip. Though the scarring is still extensive, his mobility has been largely returned. Please continue to pray for Daouda. He currently has an infection in his surgical wounds that threatens to undo much of what we accomplished. 
Above is Aruna. He had Burkitt's Lymphoma. We have completed several rounds of chemotherapy for him. At first, Brett and I (with minimal chemotherapy experience between us) had big pow-wows to figure out how to do his chemo and his management afterwards. We've now gotten much more proficient. The last two rounds of chemo I've done all by myself, including the spinal taps. The tumor is completely gone, and we have only a few rounds left to guard against relapse. In the first picture, Aruna at admission. The second picture is Aruna now. His facial bones are slightly displaced because of how large the tumor got (and we are hopeful that the bones will remodel a bit and you'll soon not be able to tell.), but the tumor is gone.
I snapped the picture above right before the family left the hospital, and of course, I forgot to get the kid's name. He was many of our severe malaria cases, but he was particularly bad. He had cerebral malaria and despite our best treatments he was in a state of constant seizing and didn't appear to be getting any better. I was on-call one night, and I went to look at him. He looked terrible; he was tachycardiac, his oxygen saturation was around 80% (normal healthy people should be between 95-100%) even with 5 liters oxgen (the max we can give), and his respirations were irregular and shallow. I figured he would be leaving us in a matter of a couple hours. I called Ecle (A-klay) the charge-nurse, and explained my assessment. I asked if we could talk to the family.
I snapped the picture above right before the family left the hospital, and of course, I forgot to get the kid's name. He was many of our severe malaria cases, but he was particularly bad. He had cerebral malaria and despite our best treatments he was in a state of constant seizing and didn't appear to be getting any better. I was on-call one night, and I went to look at him. He looked terrible; he was tachycardiac, his oxygen saturation was around 80% (normal healthy people should be between 95-100%) even with 5 liters oxgen (the max we can give), and his respirations were irregular and shallow. I figured he would be leaving us in a matter of a couple hours. I called Ecle (A-klay) the charge-nurse, and explained my assessment. I asked if we could talk to the family.
We took the dad into the nursing office, and through Ecle, I explained the situation. Here, you don't say someone is dying, because this could be interpreted as cursing the patient. So I said that the child was "VERY sick," and that without a miracle from the Lord, there wouldn't be a whole lot of hope. After I explained all this, and it was translated, I asked the dad if we could pray for him. He agreed, and I asked for one of the nurses to pray for him in the local language. Everyone was a bit reserved, but Ecle finally spoke up and led out in prayer. I'm not sure what he prayed, but the day this kid was leaving, I grabbed Ecle, took him to the bedside, and said, "This is your miracle kid. Proof that the Lord is responsive to our prayers." I also brought Mama Germaine, one of our older, "motherly" nurses who has a direct but gentle way of explaining things to the bedside and told her to express to the family my personal feeling that this kid was a miracle, and that they needed to thank Jesus for His work.
And what would another pediatric case update be without a picture of Miriam. She has gone home with her caretaker, Elizabeth. She made a recent visit to the hospital to see us. She is still cubby and now she is regrowing hair. Above she is pictured with Elizabeth (her temporary caretaker) and her "adopted brother" Abou. (You can see "before" pictures under the post "Medicine in : Case Updates.") Continue to pray for Miriam and her safety. In another month or so, she is scheduled to return to her grandmother (who got her into this mess in the first place...).
And what would another pediatric case update be without a picture of Miriam. She has gone home with her caretaker, Elizabeth. She made a recent visit to the hospital to see us. She is still cubby and now she is regrowing hair. Above she is pictured with Elizabeth (her temporary caretaker) and her "adopted brother" Abou. (You can see "before" pictures under the post "Medicine in : Case Updates.") Continue to pray for Miriam and her safety. In another month or so, she is scheduled to return to her grandmother (who got her into this mess in the first place...).
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