Sometimes the most routine trips turn into the most unexpected ordeals.Tuesday, December 16, early afternoon, the third-year agriculture students had finished their Soil Conservation exams.I gathered up papers, hopped on the motorcycle and rode off from Milundu, fully intending to correct the tests and return them to students by Thursday.Just one last errand to do – pick up e-mail messages in Vanga only four miles away.Ten minutes later I was cruising down the Vanga road, plowing through the sandy patch, neatly weaving through the spot where erosion is slowly carving several rough holes.The non-driving part of my brain was working out how to order the rest of the afternoon.Miriam was coming home after four days in Kinshasa.I would pick up e-mail, ride back out to Lusekele, and see if she was home.Clearing the holes, I hugged the left border of the road concentrating on the leafy Acacia branch somebody had dragged out of the forest on to the road about 35 yards ahead of me.
The impact wrenched my left foot off the foot peg and slammed it against the rear fender, a clear, loud cracking sound punctuating the confusion.The motorcycle continued on as if nothing had happened.For three seconds my mind churned through the shock.What had happened?Obviously my foot had hit something – how could anyone run into something on the roadway in broad daylight?Steering the motorcycle with my right hand I reached down with my left hand to probe my foot and ankle.A ragged gash on the top of the ankle joint was leaking blood on to my street shoe.Obviously this was going to take more than a few stitches to put right.No more simple picking up e-mail and running back out to Lusekele.This was going to ruin the whole afternoon.
There was no use stopping the motorcycle.What could I do for myself along side the road?Stopping would just draw a crowd of gaping people ready to argue about how best to give first aid with dirty rags.Dr. Mark Thompson, our missionary colleague, was only 4 minutes away with a qualified hospital staff, clean operating room, disinfectants and basic supplies.Every minute of delay would mean a little more blood lost and a little less time before shock set in.Mark would know what to do and have the stuff to do it with. Best to just keep going.
I rode into Vanga Cité, down the washboard track into the church station, past the senior staff housing, and into the hospital compound, cutting the motor in front of the pharmacy and somehow working the kickstand down.I gingerly put weight on the left ankle, surprised that it held without too much pain, and started hobbling toward the clinic reception area.
A foreigner dragging a bloody foot into a hospital in the African bush is quite a spectacle.We lead charmed lives, protected from the suffering that is an all too familiar companion to the Congolese villager.The buzz started.What could have happened to turn this man's world upside down?But my world was quickly narrowing down to a few basic personal concerns: staying alert, giving accurate feedback to the doctor, trying not to worry too much about how serious the wound might be and trying to piece together what happened.The emergency screening nurse was busy evaluating a thin and tired-looking middle-aged woman.A young boy lay on another bed in the room.I stood next to another bed waiting and finally sat down on the edge of the bed.
Mark bustled into the room a few minutes later, worry etched on his face.As the nurse took my blood pressure, Mark cut off the ragged sock and examined the wound.Oh my!We quickly moved to the surgical pavilion where he could wash the blood away, assess the extent of the damage, clean the wound thoroughly and tie the pieces back together.As Mark irrigated the wound, probed possible nerve damage and infiltrated the area with local anesthetic, the operating room nurses trickled in from their other stations – Tuesday is not a normal operating day.Dr. Alfred Mpoo, the hospital director came in to see what was up and encourage me.
Whatever caused the damage (stick, branch or root) had penetrated the top of the foot just above the ankle joint.It gouged down across the outside of the foot toward the sole, slicing off an outer piece of the heel bone.Mark's first comment was that all the tendons were neatly exposed, clearly visible … and miraculously intact.One small side hole seemed to go down into the joint, but the main damage skirted all the vital pulleys and cables that make the ankle and foot work.That was certainly welcome news.
As he pulled skin back into place and stitched it loosely, Mark explained his greater concern.The wound was messy, ripped tissue, with hard-to-clean crevices, inevitably contaminated with all kinds of bacteria from the stick.Worse the blood-rich, exposed bone provided perfect culture conditions for bacteria.A bone infection could be very nasty.Within two or three days we would have some idea of who was winning – the visiting bacteria or the home-side immune system reinforced by antibiotics.In the mean time, get the foot up, favor blood circulation, pump the antibiotics in and pray for God's rapid healing.
Just as Mark finished up, Miriam and Timothée Kabila came in to the operating room.After arriving on the morning plane from Kinshasa, Miriam had gone home to Lusekele, expecting to see me by early afternoon.She thought it odd that I wasn't home by 3pm.Shortly afterward she received a garbled message about the accident and an urgent appeal to come back into Vanga.(The message had simply requested that they come by on the radio to get more information.)Her first words hovering over my head were, "What are you doing here?" as if a normally responsible, reliable husband had suddenly decided to take the afternoon off for a blowout at the casino tables.In the end, explaining about the unprovoked attack by a rogue tree branch on the outskirts of Vanga and an account of Mark's cleaning and stitching efforts showed that contrary to all appearances we had all spent two hours in admittedly improvisational but rather intense, productive – but certainly not frivolous – activity.After all, it looked like I might come out with almost no permanent damage.
Everyone appreciates hospitality.But maybe sick and injured people appreciate it the most.Filled with local anesthetic, residual adrenaline, and macho bravado, I was ready to ride back to Lusekele.Five hours later, with blood oozing through the thick bandage and my foot throbbing, it was a relief to be installed instead on a soft bed surrounded by pillows in the Thompson's spare bedroom. Mark wanted me where he could keep a close eye on the wound.And there never was any question – Sandy Jo and he would host me (and Miriam if she wanted) for a couple of days at least.We are so very lucky to serve with colleagues like them.I could have started my recovery in a 15-patient open ward in the Vanga hospital, lying on a thin plastic-covered foam mattress, a definite item of curiosity amidst the constant sound and movement of African-style family-assisted post-operative care. Thompson hospitality was a calming, healing balm.
On Thursday afternoon, my foot was swollen almost double normal size, with little pale white Vienna sausages for toes, and blood continued to weep a bit from the counter incision.But swelling was expected and bones take some time to stop bleeding.Mark was satisfied that there was no early infection and let me go home with strict orders to keep my foot up all the time.The condition: come into Vanga everyday for a doctor to examine the wound and give me an intramuscular injection of industrial-strength antibiotic.Nice to be home with Miriam.
The next five days Mark continued to probe for any signs of serious infection.The third and fourth day my temperature rose to over 101º F briefly causing some passing concern, but settled back to normal on Sunday and Monday.Inflammation continued to subside, though the ankle was still a thick angry red.Tuesday, a week after the accident, Miriam and I were scheduled to fly to Kikongo to join Reba and the Chapman family for Christmas / New Years break. Mark insisted on a morning exam, just to be sure that no danger signs had been overlooked.Pain yes.Redness yes.After all, what d'ya expect?But no pus or other sign of infection.He couldn't think of any reason for me not to continue recovery in Kikongo – after all, our colleague George Win could follow up as well as he could.
As I write this four days after Christmas, I am still laying on my back with me feet up.George has cleaned and dressed the wound every day, emitting a constant stream of encouraging words about steady progress.Apart from the ACE bandage covering gauze pads, my ankle and foot are almost back to normal.The entry wound and gash is beginning to form scab, though the deep counter-incision continues to drain.I started putting full weight on it the day after Christmas, walking around the house.A longer walk around the yard the next day was a bit much so early on.But George says stretching and moving gently is good for it.I hope I can put on boots by the time we get back to Lusekele on the January 5th.
No ordeal is welcome.This one disrupted the successful completion of my Technical Drawing class at the teachers' college, turned Miriam's Christmas planning into a nursing stint, and kept me in bed for more than two weeks.But the list of blessings in the midst of the ordeal is overwhelming.God's protection – a rip in the protective covering rather than a destroying blast to the pulleys and cables of my ankle; I will recover almost full movement in 6 weeks.Prayer fellowship with our Congolese colleagues – particularly Timothée Kabila – in the midst of crisis.Compassionate professional care from Mark Thompson, George Win and the Christian medical team at Vanga.Mark and Sandy Jo's warm Christian hospitality – right in the middle of the run up to Christmas.The grace of family willing to accommodate a temporary cripple without missing a step.And Miriam's effortless adaptation to unexpected demands.I have been surrounded by love and willing helping hands.Christ came to redeem and transform us.Christmas celebrates "God with us."New Years' highlights new possibilities, new hopes. I have been surrounded with the signs, the concrete expression of all these.Praise be to God.
We wish you all the most blessed New Year, filled with the presence of the Lord, the same signs of His present rule that I have seen over the last two weeks.
Ed