Walking, Walking, Walking

 

 

Sometimes it seems like it would be a trial to hike in to villages with what seems to me to be a heavy backpack.  Sweat dripping off your nose, your shirt soaked, narrow foot paths that take you over and through streams, up and down steep hillsides, never enough to drink and never enough to eat.  But actually the days we hike, Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays are the most important days of the week, though sometimes not rewarding, as you will see!

Two days ago we walked to MooDooKey, 2 hours away.  We found a boy 8 years old with muscular dystrophy.  What a sad sight.  He is placed in the dirt,(Very dirty dirt) to play all day long.  Finally the mother lifts him to the dirty bamboo house.  His legs are useless and now it affects the shoulder girdle too!  I gave him worm medicine and he barely could put it in his mouth. 

He has muscular dystrophe, he is 8 years old and cannot use his legs at all. Now his arms are also affected.

 The next brother down, age 6, is beginning to get the same symptoms.  He struggles to step up hills and steps.  There are 2 other younger children, still asymptomatic.   I know this disease is incurable, but if you know of any ways I can help this family, plese let me know.

In this same village a young girl had a 16 day old baby.  This baby was not breathing properly.  He showed symptoms of septicemia.  His breathing was irregular with periods of apnea.  We were ready to hike back home and get the truck to take them to the hospital.  I do not have IV antibiotics for newborns.  However the mother did not like hospitals.  They make her dizzy and it is noisy.  (She is sick also).  I told her the baby would die if she did not go.  Still they would not go.  We had to leave finally, but told them we would return the next day and then they could be ready to go.  So today we walked back to MooDooKee.  The baby was still alive but the periods of apnea were longer and he desperately needs the hospital.  They won’t go, but finally decided to have us call them in the morning, maybe by then they would go.  Please pray that they will go before it is too late. 

This baby has an ear infection. Even this simple thing could take his life without the proper medication. I am so glad I am here.

 

When the people are addicted to opium the huts look a wreck like this!

We do get to drive the truck to some villages, then we can work out of the back of the truck.  Sometimes someone wants us to go to their house and treat the sick there.  They usually feed us their rice and some kind of greens picked in the jungle.  Usually people give us some of their hard earned rice, greens, roots or other jungle food out of appreciation.

 

 

Clinic at the truck - NehLeeGwee village

 

 

This is our meal in this particular house: Rice with some sort of chilie paste.

 One time we did try to go to a far away village on motorbikes.  Our neighbor DJ and his son were going somewhere beyond that, but we could ride with them to our village.  We wrecked horribly right off the bat, so they gave me the best motorcycle, the best driver and the lightest backpack!  Still the trip was horrendous.  When things started really getting bad I simply jumped off, shed my flip flops and pushed the bike to get it going up the mountain in the mud and rocks!  There were moments I longed to be walking, even if it did take much much longer! 

My fearless driver!

Back here in BYT a lady came to see me.  She was helping to pound rice.  One person steps on the log sending it up in the air, then lets go and it drops into the deep bowel of rice.  Someone is constantly stirring the rice down into the bowel so it can be pounded evenly.  This lady got her thumb hit by the pouder.  I didn’t know that wood pounded so hard!  Her thumb had been broken and cut leaving the whole distal end of her thumb without circulation.  Unfortunately it had happened 12 days ago.  Now her thumb was necrosed (Black) from dead tissue.  It needed to be amputated and cleaned well.  I have never cut off a finger before.  I did not know what to use to cut the bone.  I did know how to sew it back up neatly.   The lady was not willing to loose the end of her thumb though.  She thought that would be ugly and would not allow it!  I remembered Eric B. Hare’s story of the man who died because he would not allow his necrosed thumb to be cut off.  I quickly went to my room and found the book, turning to the page, I asked Blet Jaw to please tell her about the story.  Even after she knew the man had died she refused to have anything done to her thumb.  Oh please pray for her!

So many rewards here and so many disappointments.  I am so thankful for a God who cares more than I do and watches over each one with love and makes provision for us in every situation.

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