The last time I posted about our cancer patients, it was quite sad. We had lost two kids in one week. Now we have three cancer patients. Kadi, who has been around for several months and had a Burkitt's lymphoma. We also have two ALL leukemia patients, Alou and Kadia, who came in only 3 days apart. Today is a happy day because Kadi has finished her treatment. Kadi is all done! No more pokes! No more lumbar punctures! No more screams (at least directed toward us). I couldn't help but think how neat it was to be a part of her treatment and to be able to say, "this is your last! I mean really, your last treatment!" I just felt like dancing.
I found it interesting as well that as Kadi has spent the last few months battling her Burkitt's lymphoma, I've been battling my fears and feelings of inadequacy. But here we were at the end of the journey, having accomplished something together. I started doing chemotherapy treatments with another American nurse, Jake. Really, at first, I was just present and he did it all. Then I had to try to place their IVs (yes, I am a nurse, but hadn't placed IVs in years). Then, the dreaded lumbar punctures...he and Brett made me do it. Those things weirded me out. I was not looking forward to doing these. But I did. And I now I do them without a problem. For Alou and Kadia, we had to do bone marrow aspirations. I watched Brett do their first ones and last week I did both of theirs for the end of the induction period. I am amazed at what I've learned in a short time. I'm doing things I never thought I would. And though I'm not surprised, the Lord has once again placed me in a role that scares me to death. Someone told me the other day that they didn't think I was a fearful person because I didn't act like it. Brett will be the first to attest, and did at the time, that I am in fact an incredibly fearful person (as anyone who reads this blog knows) but I try to fight it. Faith isn't doing living without fear, it is doing what you believe you are called to do despite the fear.The Lord has worked wonders in my fears and teaching me to not worry about things I cannot change or what may happen. But I am full of fears. Working with HIV patients and children with cancer only spur on my fears. It's something I have to pray through every single day. I have to choose to not let my mind dwell on the what ifs. I'm thankful to have been placed out of my comfort zone and be forced to rely on the Lord. Working in these areas has also pushed me in the medical realm. I am doing much more than I ever planned to or thought possible. But there I was, the one who two months ago wasn't even pulling up meds without Jake or Brett around for fear I would do something wrong, putting in Kadi's last IV, giving her her last chemo meds all by myself. The Lord surely does use the weak things and I'm thankful.
I'm often amazed at how these families deal with the cancer. They act like it's not really a big deal. I've often wondered why and discussed it with other nurses. Jake made a good point the other day. In the States, we fear cancer. Cancer kills. Many other illnesses we have learned to treat and prevent but very often, cancer kills. And it kills our kids. It is something to be feared. Here, though, it's different. One in four kids are dying regularly in Mali. Malaria kills in Mali. Diarrhea kills. Pneumonia kills. The families here fear malaria. When a kid gets vomiting and diarrhea, they are scared to death. The first time Kenan got diarrhea here our nanny started bawling thinking that one she would lose her job over it and two that he might not make it. We just laughed. It's just vomiting and diarrhea. Nothing too serious. But that is what kills here. Cancer, however, is rarely known. Even if it takes a life, it takes far less than malaria. It's just not as big of a deal. It's just interesting. We hurt for these families, we shower the kids with treats and toys and whatever because we feel they are suffering so much. In our culture, cancer changes your life forever. It changes your family. Our friends are walking through cancer in their little 4 year old. It has turned their life upside down. And rightfully so. To me, that's how these families should be, but in general, they aren't. Not saying either way is right or wrong (though of course, I understand my culture and our response more) but just saying it is an interesting observation.
But this blog post was really supposed to be about the celebration of Kadi being done with treatment....so back to that. Yeah Kadi! Here are some pictures of her along with Alou and Kadia. Just in the last week or so both Alou and Kadia started losing their hair (Kadi already had since she is further along). Not that they care so much about losing the hair, but I wanted to get them something. So I bought Alou a hat and the girls cloth to use as a head wrap. I must say that they are stinkin' cute...and I guess I will admit that's why I bought them things in the first place...because I knew they'd be cute and I wanted to see them wearing it. So it was in part a selfish act to see these kiddos in hats and wraps. Enough talking, here are the pictures...
I love this picture because this is how they look most of the time. Kadia frowning and Alou looking on happily. They've been sharing a room since they started chemo over a month ago. And by "they" I mean these two, their mothers and their little siblings. It's kind of neat that they came in together so they get to go through all of this together.
Kadi, who finished her chemo, and Kadia. You can see how Kadi's face is still a little distorted. It's from the changes the cancer made, not remaining cancer.
I told them to "yele" which means smile but also means open so they were opening their mouth. Not surprised esp for Kadi since we were always telling her to open her mouth so we could look at the tumor and then she how it was improving.
Believe it or not, both Kadia and Alou are 4! We never believed Alou's age until we saw the birth certificate. Major growth stunting.
The siblings. Standing up is Mariam, the sister of Kadi. The one sitting who is in the front is Amosi, Kadia's brother and the one in the back is Rokia, Alou's sister.
And another of Kadia. I love this picture. One, because her wrap is as tall as her head. Two, because she is smiling. This girl is something. It's hard enough to get Malian kids to like the white people, even more so when I'm always inflicting pain. So basically, she hates me. I try all the time, but she wants nothing to do with me. Really, I don't blame her but it sure makes me try harder to get her to like me. So this morning when she waved at me as I was driving up, I felt like something huge had happened. I was so happy. She actually acknowledged me and decided to be nice! I was so happy. When I went to get a picture, she actually smiled! And she shook my hand! I was in heaven. Now it didn't last long, but hey, we had a little moment for which I'll always be grateful. And if I have to buy her a new head wrap each week to get another smile and hand shake, I'll do it. It's worth it.
Beautiful children.
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