Reflections on my Covid experience

 The last two months have been unexpected and challenging. My experience with Covid was a rollercoaster of symptoms and emotions. To be honest, I wasn't initially that sick, but I made some bad choices that led to a spiral of events. It's hard to look back and process everything because there were a lot of decisions that I made where I get so mad at myself and say "Becca, you should've known better!" One of those bad choices was that I drove to the mountains four days into being sick to see the fall colors and as a result, ended up with pneumonia. I definitely would've thought twice if I realized I was going to be all the way up at 11,000 feet. Or the fact that I took a higher dose of steroids than was recommended because I thought I could treat myself when I couldn't get in to my doctor. The medication I had on hand was expired, so I increased the dose and ended up having a bad reaction to the steroids. I look back now and ask myself "What was I thinking?!?" It's difficult to not be hard on myself as a nurse. I know better than to treat myself, but then again we all do it. 

Enjoying the fall colors

They say nurses are the worst patients and that's not a lie. I can attest that ER nurses are probably the worst. We rarely ever go to the doctor because we can diagnose ourselves, treat ourselves, and take care of ourselves. While you gain a wide knowledge base working in the ER, you also gain something else that is not so healthy: pride. The first time I ended up in the ER as a patient with Covid was only my third ER visit of my entire life. I knew my oxygen was low, but I wasn't impressed with the hospital and I didn't trust the care. "I'm a nurse, I can just monitor myself at home," I told the doctor. They reluctantly agreed to discharge me home even though they said it would be better to admit me. I told them they could save that bed for someone else who was sicker than me and "really needed it." But if I'm honest, I didn't want to be stuck there and wasn't sure that they would provide good care. There was a combination of pride, fear, and the need to control things. I was so relieved when they allowed me to go home on the oxygen. But my eagerness to get better and back to work led me to wean my oxygen faster than I should have. While my O2 levels were fine, my shortness of breath and other symptoms persisted. I felt the Lord gently whispering to my heart to slow down and rest, but I convinced myself that I already had. Little did I know that he would allow more drastic measures later on to get me to finally slow down and listen.

My therapy dogs

Shortly after my quarantine time, I was back to work in the clinic. My overwhelming need to please people was setting in and I couldn't have my coworkers covering my late shifts or working a weekend for me. I didn't feel the best and was still pretty short of breath, but I would suck it up and push forward. My doctor hesitantly cleared me. "Are you sure you're ready to go back full time?" he asked. "Oh yeah, I'm going crazy sitting at home and I feel fine," I reassured him. Once again, that ugly pride was rearing it's head. I was strong. I could do this. 

But it became evident within a few days that I was doing too much. I had close friends gently warn me that I needed to slow down. I had gone from being sick to filling my day with work and social events, being gone from 7am until midnight. Not to mention, I was still sleep deprived because of the steroid side effects. But I wasn't willing to listen. I was going a million miles a minute and headed for a downward spiral. Three days after I had gone back to work, I woke up with a strange feeling in my forehead. I was so exhausted and just wanted to sleep, but I felt an electrical feeling in my forehead. "Why does my head feel so strange? It's like there's electricity going across my head," I said to myself. And then it dawned on me: "Oh my gosh, I'm about to have a seizure!" I had never had a seizure before, but I had talked to my doctor about my electrolyte levels a few days prior and had convinced him to check my sodium level. It was a little low, but not too bad. But I had been really thirsty over the last few days and drinking a ton of fluid. I was worried it had dropped even lower and my symptoms were telling me it had. I stumbled down the stairs, barely able to walk and made my way to the kitchen. My body was telling me that I needed salt, so I just poured out a teaspoon of salt from the shaker and ate it. It was disgusting, but I wasn't thinking straight and that was the easiest way to get salt in my body. I grabbed a bottle of pedialyte and started drinking that. By the grace of God, my roommate came down the stairs a few minutes later, took one look at me and asked if I was ok. I told her I needed to go to the ER and managed to pack a couple of things into a backpack, knowing that I would be keeping me there this time.

We went to a different hospital where the care was much better this time around. My suspicions of low sodium were confirmed. It had dropped to 124, two points away from being admitted to the neuro ICU. I was told that I would be admitted to the hospital for at least 1-2 days. I felt better about staying this time because the care was good and I had a good experience with the hospital. I felt comfortable and taken care of in the ER, so I sent my roommate off to work. I didn’t want her to be stuck there all day because of me. But a couple hours later, I started to fall asleep and my alarms started going off. My O2 sats were only 85% and I was on 2 liters of oxygen. They had put me back on the oxygen for shortness of breath. What was going on? I waited a bit, but it stayed low. I hit my call light and waited. No one came. I decided to just turn up my own oxygen to 4 liters. Finally someone came in and switched me over to an oxygen mask. When the nurse came back later, she told me that my oxygen levels were fine. I explained to her that I was a nurse too and what had happened. She told me that I was just anxious. She told me “I have anxiety too, so I get it.” She told me that she could ask the doctor for medication for anxiety if I wanted it. I looked at her, absolutely shocked and told her that I was fine and that I was going to turn the lights down and try to rest. 

That experience negatively affected the rest of my hospitalization. I became defensive and felt like I had to prove myself to my nurses and doctors. Once again, I didn't feel like I could trust other people to take care of me. I felt like I had to take care of myself if I was going to be ok. I also developed a fear of being alone. I had lost faith in the medical team and I didn't trust that they were monitoring me closely after that first experience. I called a good friend who is a nurse and asked her to come be there with me. My sodium levels still weren't stable and I didn't know if any of the nurses would even know if I had a seizure. They weren't watching my monitors before, so why would they now? My friend Katrina came in and stayed with me for a few hours. She was amazing and in true pediatric nurse fashion, she brought me all kinds of treats and things to make me feel at home in the hospital. I had a couple friends visit over the next few days, which helped a lot. My mom flew in after that and stayed with me for the rest of my hospitalization. It was so good to have her there. My brain had been so badly affected that I was having a hard time concentrating and remembering things. I often would forget to eat. She took good care of me and helped me regain my strength. 

Katrina and I in my hospital room

Flowers from my Bible study girls

But as the days went on, it became apparent that I had allowed a few of my negative experiences in the hospital to affect me for the worst. I was under spiritual attack and didn't even know it. I was still not thinking clearly and was irritable from the steroids. I was angry at my nurses and doctors. I felt like many of my concerns were dismissed and I didn't feel like my nurses were providing the same quality of care that I would provide to my patients. I was having a harder time connecting with God. I would ask my mom to read me the Bible and would fall asleep immediately. I had a hard time praying, I became anxious and irritable. I didn't like this version of myself, but I didn't know how to change it.

I finally got discharged home after five days in the hospital. But I wasn't out of the woods yet. I had been on oxygen the whole time I was in the hospital and felt short of breath or confused when I wasn't on it, especially at night. The doctors decided that I could go home with no oxygen and I questioned their judgment. Once I got home, I was waking up in the middle of the night feeling like I couldn't breathe. I kept thinking there was something wrong and went into the ER multiple times. I was having major issues thinking straight and remembering things. I didn't know why I was so overwhelmed by fear. I had never felt like this before. Finally, I asked my mom to stop at the sporting goods store one day to buy canned oxygen for altitude sickness. Later that day she commented that I was "thinking more clearly than I had in days." I told her it was the oxygen. My primary care doctor ended up putting me back on oxygen after I had an asthma attack in the clinic when I came in for a visit. I was told that my asthma was still flaring up because of the inflammation that Covid had caused in my lungs.

My mom going over my hospital paperwork

So, there I was, back on the oxygen, stuck at home. It was helping my breathing, but I felt chained to it. I couldn't go anywhere for more than a couple of hours and I felt stuck. One night in particular, I was feeling really discouraged and alone and I just felt like I hit rock bottom. I had wanted to go to church that morning, but couldn't because I wasn't feeling well. I was feeling lonely and reached out to multiple friends that day, but no one could come over. I finally called one of my best friends crying and asked if he could come by. He told me that he couldn't that day and he felt like I just needed to spend some time with God. I hung up angry and hurt but I knew he was probably right. I opened my Bible and started reading. I finally prayed and listened. I heard God saying "You might feel alone, but you're not alone. I'm with you. You've been reaching out for everyone and everything BUT me. I'm right here and I've been waiting for you to come to me." I realized God was right. He was the one I had needed all along. He didn't condemn me, but gently called me back. That was the first time in a long time that I had been able to connect with God. It was so sweet to be reminded of His love and His presence. 

But a few days later, the fear and anxiety started to start again. I was having heart palpitations, getting confused, and having a hard time walking. I ended up back in the ER that next morning. While I was there, my oxygen dropped to the high 70's while I was sleeping. The doctor seemed very concerned when I first came in, but once they did a workup and everything came back normal, they told me that I was fine. Once again, I didn't have answers. Why was I having all these symptoms? They didn't know, but it wasn't enough to keep me in the hospital and my blood oxygen levels were actually too high, so they told me to stop using the oxygen.

My doctor finally decided to do a sleep study and found that my oxygen levels were falling to 82% at night and I was having some sleep apnea as a residual effect from Covid. That helped to answer some of my questions. But I still didn't know why I was so anxious and fearful. And why was I waking up gasping for air like I was being choked in the middle of the night? It just seemed strange, especially since my sleep apnea results were listed as mild. A few of my friends who had come over to my house had commented that there was a "spiritual oppression" over our home. I had a feeling that there was some spiritual component, but I couldn't figure it out. I just knew that I hadn't been able to connect well with God in days. Meanwhile, my symptoms weren't improving and I hadn't even stopped to pray to ask God why. 

A couple days later, I decided I just needed to spend more time with God. I was sitting in the living room and put on some worship music. I started to sing the lyrics to "Great are you Lord." I was singing along with the song "It's your breath in my lungs" and all of a sudden, I felt like I was being choked. I went from singing loudly to barely moving any air. It only lasted a few seconds and then I could breathe again but I knew it wasn't a coincidence that I was singing those lyrics when it happened. Right after that, across the room on the other side of the kitchen, the dishes in the drying rack on the counter started to move around and a shot glass fell on the floor, didn't break and started rolling around. A light bulb finally went on in my head. "Oh my gosh, this is spiritual! Something demonic is in our house!" I began to pray, hesitant to walk over to the kitchen to see what was on the floor. My roommate came downstairs because she had heard something fall. I was still sitting on the couch and asked her to walk to the kitchen with me. We saw the shot glass rolling around on the floor and she freaked out. We had both heard some strange things in the house in that previous week and all three of us had been having nightmares (which we found out later). I told her we needed to pray for each other and pray over the house, which we did that night. I felt a little better, but there was still a restlessness in my spirit when I was at home.

The strange happenings continued at the house over the next couple of days. I noticed that things were worse when my third roommate was there at the house. She had been staying with her boyfriend for a few days, but as soon as she came back, there was just a lack of peace in the house. I told her about what happened and she didn't look surprised. "I believe you," she responded. She proceeded to tell me about experiences she had in the past and even mentioned that she had a "spirit follow her around" in college. It turned out, she had been having some demonic encounters with her new job and not being a Christian and having authority in Christ, she didn't know how to handle it. It seemed like it was following her home. On top of all of that, she had been dabbling in some demonic things leading up to this. Now she was having severe anxiety and couldn't shake whatever was oppressing her. I asked if I could pray for her and she agreed. After I prayed, she thanked me but wasn't ready to surrender to Christ. She continued to struggle with her own spiritual battle. It became clear that she was under a strong oppression and wouldn't be healed from it until she surrendered to Christ. A strong spiritual tension developed between her and I. I had never experienced anything like it before, but all I can say is that light and darkness do not mix. Whatever was following her around did not want to be around the light of Jesus in me. I still wasn't sleeping well, so I went to stay with a friend one night. I was just still feeling so restless in my home. There was an instant change in my own feeling of peace and I started sleeping so much better. The other symptoms I had been having resolved and I felt more like myself again. 

To be honest, I hesitated how much to share here but I think it's so important as Christians that we are aware of the battle going on. As I was going through all of this, I kept coming back to the verse in Ephesians that says "Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, authorities and spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places." (Ephesians 6:12). I knew my roommate wasn't the enemy. But I was initially so confused why I was also under attack. "I'm a Christian, so why am I being oppressed?" I kept asking myself. I think the enemy knew that God was doing a work in my life and that God wanted to use me, so I became a threat to the devil. The Bible never says that the devil can't attack us, but it does give us the weapons we need to combat him (the word of God and praying in the name of Jesus Christ). 

The Bible tells us not to "give the devil a foothold." In hindsight, I see how I had allowed anger, resentment and bitterness to take over in my heart after so many bad experiences at the hospital. Not only was I treating the hospital staff poorly, but I was lashing out at my family and friends, people who loved me and wanted what was best for me. I became blinded to the truth. I started to believe that they were against me and I started to fight against them. God opened my eyes and showed me that resentment and unforgiveness is one of the biggest doors to the enemy. If the devil can get us to hold onto our bitterness and unforgiveness, he gains a foothold in our lives and can continue to attack us. It's not until we forgive and let go of those things that we can truly be free. 

Looking back on the last few months, I can honestly say that this was both the worst and best experience of my life. It was extremely hard and at times, it felt like there was no light at the end of the tunnel. I lost control of everything and I felt so weak. I had to become dependent on other people to help me walk at times, to drive me places, and even to remind me to eat. God really humbled me as I realized that I do need other people and I can't do it alone. He showed me that I'm not in control and that I need to let go of that need to be in control. He is ultimately the one who is in control. I wish I could've learned that faster. But it was a long and painful process and in that time, I hurt a lot of people that I love. I saw a side of myself that I never want to see again. I was very unlovable at times, but I also experienced a deep love and forgiveness that was so healing to some brokenness in my own heart. I was such a mess, but I had friends and family patiently loving me, listening to me and supporting me through the whole process. I can't help but think that God showed me his own love through them. That's the way He loves us. Even when we think we have it all together, he sees through the facade and sees what a broken mess we are. But He doesn't turn away from us or give up on us. He loves us with His perfect, unconditional love. 

Birthday dinner with close friends after getting out of the hospital

This whole experience has brought me closer to the Lord than I have been in a long time. It has opened my eyes to the spiritual battleground that we are living in. It has made me so grateful to not only be alive, but to be able to think clearly and to connect with God again. I felt like I was walking through the "valley of the shadow of death" and finally got out of that dark valley and up to a place where I could see more of the big picture and see why He allowed me to go through all of that. I am so thankful to serve a good and faithful Father who makes "all things work together for good" in our lives (Romans 8:28). No matter what we face, He is with us. He is bigger than our mistakes and our failures. He is able to restore what is broken. I pray that whatever you are facing today that you would be reminded that He is always there waiting for you. He loves you, He is for you and He is fighting for you. I pray that you hear His still small voice as He bids you to come to Him. He is always near. 

From Death to Life

The first time I saw him, I was completely shocked at how thin and frail his body was: literally skin and bones. I had never seen anyone so emaciated in my entire life. But it wasn't just how thin he was that struck me, but the lack of life or motivation to live. 14-year old Selim would lie in his bed and moan, lacking the strength to even lift his head. He would point to his IV, requesting morphine for his pain and I could see that he was trying to escape the pain and perhaps even become numb to life around him. With each moan, it was like he was begging to die. At 14-years of age and nearly 5 feet tall, he had fallen to a mere 48 pounds. His mother sat beside his bed, but rarely touched him. It was as though she was afraid to engage because it was too painful for her heart, knowing he was dying. 

It seemed like a matter of days until Selim would pass. He had come to the hospital from the refugee camp for a bladder stone, but after he was taken to surgery, it became apparent that there were multiple other problems and that he would not have a simple recovery. He had been in the hospital for several weeks when I arrived and his condition had continued to deteriorate. My heart broke for this boy, but the whole situation seemed so hopeless. The surgeons had placed a feeding tube due to his weight loss and inability to eat after his initial surgery, but in spite of great surgeons and tedious nursing care, it seemed like he was at a standstill...he just wasn't improving and it appeared that he didn't want to. I looked in his eyes and saw pain and hopelessness and it broke my heart. I did my best to make him comfortable, take care of his pain and nausea, and show him that he was loved. For five days straight, I watched his suffering and prayed that he would turn a corner. 

Then one day, the missionary surgeon who was caring for Selim told me a story of hope. He had cared for a patient several months before who everyone thought was going to die. "No one thought he would walk out of this place alive, but he did...and proved to be a miracle." He said it with a glimmer in his eye and I knew that after years of working in this place, he wasn't ready to give up on Selim yet either. His story gave me hope that Selim would one day walk out of that same hospital, proving to be a miracle. That day, I sent out text messages and requests on social media for prayers for Selim. I couldn't give up on him yet and I would rally an army of spiritual warriors who fight for him in prayer. 

The next day, Selim seemed to be feeling a bit better and my heart lightened a bit knowing that God was working in him. That afternoon, the social worker came by to see patients and spent some time talking to Selim. While they were talking, Selim asked about Jesus and she was able to share the gospel with him. The next thing I knew, I was carrying a medication over to Selim and realized they were getting ready to pray. I wasn't sure what was being said because it was all in Rohingya, but Selim was sitting on the edge of his bed with his hands lifted up, eyes shut tight and praying intently. I joined the prayer in my heart and could see that something had changed when we finished. I asked the social worker what they were praying for and she said "Selim asked me about Jesus, so I shared with him and he just prayed to receive Jesus in his life!" I was so happy to hear the news and thought back to all the prayers that had gone up for this boy's life the day before. Jesus had heard those prayers and now Selim was one of his own! I imagined the celebration that was going on in heaven...there was certainly some celebrating in my own heart!

The rest of the afternoon, that hollow depressed look in Selim's eyes disappeared and was replaced by an interest in life and a sense of hope. He was finally engaging with us and expressing a desire to live! Several hours later, I brought over the milk for Selim's feeding tube. He started pointing and saying something to me in Rohingya, so I brought over a translator. "He doesn't want to eat through his tube anymore. He wants to eat normally," he told me. I could hardly believe my ears...Selim hadn't eaten anything by mouth in weeks. He really was turning a corner and I could see the answers to my prayers unfolding before my eyes. We gave Selim something light to eat and he kept it down!

Over the next few days, Selim continued to improve. He asked for his foley catheter to be taken out and continued to take steps in the right direction. Within another week, he was asking to stand and try to walk. He was still weak and needed a walker to help him, but he was determined and with each milestone, he would flex his muscles and give me a smile. It was hard to believe that this was the same boy who I could barely talk to a week before, with a hollow stare, a pained expression and no interest in life. Every time I looked at him, I was amazed. But why should I be shocked, I thought to myself. Jesus had stepped into Selim's heart and now that new life spilled out of him. His smile was contagious and the newfound joy he had discovered in such a dark place could only come from the Author of life himself, Jesus Christ. 

Finally getting some fresh air

As Selim continued to gain weight and get stronger, I found that I could hardly keep up with enough food to give him. He was like a typical teenage boy, ravenous for food every couple of hours. I found myself visiting our "canteen" multiple times throughout the day buying milk, peanuts, ice cream, chips, bananas or whatever snacks Selim was in the mood for that day. I didn't want to deny him anything he wanted to eat because I wanted him to get back to a healthy weight as quickly as possible. I occasionally got funny looks from the workers at the canteen and I couldn't help but think that they were judging me and wondering how I could possibly eat so much! I would tell them in my broken Bangla that it wasn't for me and they would just nod with a doubtful look and I would just laugh. I didn't care if they judged me as long as Selim gained weight! One day, Selim asked for cow liver for breakfast. I would normally try to talk someone out of that type of request, but it was my sweet Selim and I knew it was better for him than a lot of the other things he asked me to buy him. So I sent one of our ward clerks across the street to the market to buy it for him. 

My days with Selim were so precious and over our time together, we formed a very sweet bond. Every time he reached his arms out and said "Auntie Becca!" with a big smile across his face, my heart melted. I loved this boy as my own nephew and I was so grateful that God had brought him into my life. But I knew that I would soon be moving over to the diphtheria clinic nearly two hours away and I wondered how Selim would handle it. The morning for me to leave came and I could hardly look at Selim. I gave hugs to everyone else, but saved him for last. Finally, Selim motioned me over to his bed and asked what was wrong. He could see the tears welling up in my eyes and I told him that I had been asked to help at the diphtheria clinic in the refugee camp for the next three weeks and that I might not see him again. Selim reached up his arms to embrace me and gave me a long hug as the tears rolled down both of our cheeks. I didn't want to say goodbye. It seemed too soon. I wanted to see him healthy and strong and walking out of the hospital like the other child I had been told about.  I reminded Selim that I would continue to pray for him every day and check in with my friends there to make sure he was getting stronger. But, from a distance, I couldn't bring Selim his favorite foods or encourage him to walk or take his medicine. I realized in that moment that I  had to release control and give him to God. I knew that Selim was safe in the hands of my Father and that he would complete the good work He had started in Selim's life.

Throughout the next week, I got reports that Selim was continuing to eat and get stronger. His central line had been removed and his wounds had healed up nicely. Now he was going to physical therapy every day to regain his strength. I was encouraged with the updates on his progress, but I was hopeful I would get to visit him and my other friends one more time. My schedule opened up at the clinic and after a long stretch of shifts, I was given two days off. Thankfully, the transportation arrangements all worked out and I headed back to the hospital to see my dear friends and my sweet Selim. 

No one told Selim I was coming back for a visit because we all wanted to surprise him. I walked into the ward and saw him smiling at me from across the room. But the second I reached out to hug him, he began to cry and wouldn't let go of me. He couldn't believe I had come back! And I couldn't believe how good he looked! His cheeks had plumped up and he looked so much healthier and stronger than when I had left. In the ten days I was gone, he had gained just over eight pounds! After our sweet reunion, Selim wouldn't let me leave his side. He asked me to take him down for his physical therapy and when we got there, he said "You stay right there!" He didn't want me leaving again. While I was only back for two short days, we had a very sweet time together having tea and snacks at the canteen, going for "walks" with me pushing his wheelchair, watching silly movies and sharing lots of hugs and smiles. 

Selim during physical therapy

Tea and treats with Auntie Becca

While it was sad to leave Selim the second time, it was much sweeter being given that gift of a reunion that neither one of us ever knew we would have. And as the weeks went by, Selim continued to gain weight and get stronger. Soon, he was walking on his own and ready to go home. And Selim walked out of there just like the other little boy that no one thought would survive. The skeleton of a boy who wanted to die got his life back when he gave his life to Jesus. And he walked out healthy and strong because we have a great and amazing God who answers prayers and shows his love and power through little boys like Selim. I pray that Selim will always remember that he was brought from death to life both spiritually and physically and that he will point others to Christ so that they can experience the same. 

Leaving Alaska

Since the time I started travel nursing, I have always had a dream of spending a summer in Alaska. I waited 3 summers before a pediatric position finally opened up and I jumped at the chance to come! The day I got the news that I had received the job, I was ecstatic! Alaska seemed like this distant, mysterious and wild place to explore and adventure. Now I was going to be spending a summer there!

When I first got to Alaska, I just had to keep pinching myself. "I'm here! I made it to Alaska!" I kept thinking. I'm sure I had a huge smile permanently stuck on my face because people were looking at me a little funny that first day. I drove from Anchorage to Fairbanks the day after I arrived. It's usually a 6 1/2 hour drive, but it took me at least eight because I couldn't help but stop to take pictures at all these beautiful places along the way. Everything was so scenic and surreal.

After arriving in Fairbanks, I had a rough first few days because of a terrible living situation that I quickly realized I needed to get out of. By day three, I had packed up and checked myself into a hotel because I couldn't stay there another night. But just as He always does, God used a bad situation for something good and one of my friends from orientation who had just moved to Alaska with her husband offered for me a place to live with her and her husband..the very next day!

I moved into a nice big house in North Pole, Alaska with Becky and Nate the next day. North Pole is a cute town that's about fifteen minutes from Fairbanks. The first time I ventured into downtown, I couldn't stop smiling and taking pictures. North Pole is the town "where it's Christmas year round!" There are candy-cane light posts, Christmas signs and even a wreath and Christmas tree at City Hall. Not to mention, I got to visit the Santa Claus House where Santa lives and feed his reindeer! I fell in love with the town right away and the small-town feel. Sometimes I would run into coworkers at the grocery store (there's only one in the town) or other times complete strangers would just start chatting with me at the gas station. Everyone was so friendly and welcoming. It turned out to be the perfect place for me to live!

Feeding one of the reindeer at the Santa Claus House

Although I was no longer working at a Children's hospital, the pediatric unit in the community hospital proved to be a great place to work. My first week, my manager handed me the next month's schedule and said "I gave you 6 days off in a row because I thought you might want to do some exploring. I know you didn't just come to Alaska to work." I was dumbfounded and grateful and started planning where I would explore first.

Every time I had a stretch of 3-4 days off, I would plan an adventure. A few times, I had friends come to town and I took them with me on my adventures. Other times I would go with my roommates or other friends from town, and the rest of the time I just went on my own. I've always been a pretty independent person, but Alaska made me so much more independent. If I wanted to go camping, I didn't wait until a friend had time off, I would just go. I had my first solo camping experience about a month into my contract and after that, I had no problems going on my own. I would join tours flying solo and just make friends along the way. I did a bunch of solo road trips, including one that was 9-hours long in order to go paddle boarding through some icebergs. It was well worth it and the scenery wasn't too bad either!

In my 3 1/2 months in Alaska, I was able to see A LOT. There's still so much I would love to see and do, but I had a pretty big bucket list and hit almost everything. I got to hike to an icefield, hike on a couple of glaciers, ice climb, go into ice caves, deep-sea fish, sleep on a boat anchored in front of a glacier, kayak in Resurrection bay and see dolpins and seals, take several glacier cruises, do some amazing hiking, four wheel, camp in Denali, and visit the historic mining town of Kennicott.

At the edge of the Harding Icefield

Hiking the Matanuska Glacier

But one of my favorite bucket list activities happened my very last week in Alaska. I decided I still needed to see the Northern lights and told my roommates I was driving out to Cleary Summit to watch them. They must've stifled a laugh, knowing that you can't just decide you're going to see the Northern lights anytime. But I was determined. Nate told me I could see them from the backyard if they were out, but I insisted on following the advice of my friend who had recommended Cleary Summit since he had spent many years in Alaska.

As I left the house around 11:30pm, I could see what almost looked like a cloud just above the house. Something about it looked different, almost like there was a beam of light shining through it. "They're going to be out," I told myself with excitement. Within the first ten minutes of the drive, I could see the lights. They were bright green and lighting up in three different sections of the sky. They were so beautiful that it was hard to focus on the road and still look at the lights. If I had known that the lights tend to come and go so quickly, I would've pulled over to stop and watch them. I did stop once to snap a quick picture and then carried on up the road. I was sure the lights would be even better once I reached my destination. But as I arrived at Cleary Summit, the lights were beginning to fade and actually looked much more faint. Not to mention, there was a tour bus of people there. There was a full moon and it had come out even brighter, so now it was difficult to see the radiance of the Northern Lights. I stayed for awhile in hopes that I would see them some more, but ended up leaving disappointed and defeated. I headed home, scolding myself for not stopping off the road when I had seen them earlier. "Well, at least I saw them," I tried to reassure myself.

But at about 4am, I woke up in the middle of the night, looked out the window and saw rays of neon green. "They're out again!" I squealed. I felt like God had woken me up to watch this. I grabbed my warm jacket and camera and headed out the back door. The lights were amazing, so bright and beautiful. It was like ribbons of light in the sky, constantly changing from one place to another. Every now and then some green and pink would dance from top to bottom in the sky. As I watched the green ribbons light up, it was like God was doodling with some pretty colors and was letting me get a peek at his artwork. I stood there dumbfounded, completely in awe of our amazing Father. I couldn't help but think of the verse 1 Corinthians 2 that says "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love Him." I felt like I experienced a glimpse of what it will be like when we get to heaven and are stunned at the beauty and awesomeness of God and the place he has created for us.

I got to stay out and enjoy the Northern Lights for almost an hour before they began to fade. As I watched the lights show, I listened to worship music and felt completely overwhelmed by God's love for me. I wasn't disappointed about the lights after all! I felt like I got a private showing in my own backyard and it was incredible!

As my time in Alaska comes to a close, a lot of emotions are swirling around. Leaving this beautiful, unique place is very bittersweet. I am so grateful for the amazing experiences I have had, but sad to leave this wild, incredible place. I will miss the beautiful scenery, the ability to drive for miles and not see a single soul, seeing moose and foxes off the highway, eating fresh moose meat brought in by my coworkers or enjoying some fresh halibut or salmon caught by good friends. I will miss the peacefulness, the opportunities for adventure around every corner, and the wild feel to it all . But most of all, I will miss the amazing people I have come to know who have touched my heart, especially those who helped me to see what it truly means to be an Alaskan. But I have a feeling that I will be back again. This place has too many amazing things to offer to only visit one time!

Slapped with reality

Spoiled. Rotten. If I had to pick two words to describe how I felt about myself over the last few weeks in Africa, those would be the words. It's not because I'm high maintenance or demanding (at least I don't think I am most days). But when you get a smack in the face of the realities of poverty, you start to see the extremes of just how much we really have in America.

The past few weeks have been amazing. I have been able to make an impact on so many kids' lives in Malawi and then travel to Zambia to bring hope to many people who have never heard of Jesus. It has been incredible and overwhelming at the same time. 

The mission in Malawi was the first medical mission where I was outnumbered by the locals. It was so fun to be the only white person working on night shift...but it was also eye-opening. I heard the stories not only of the patients and their families, but also of the nurses working with me. 

Two of the nurses I worked with on the mission

Malawi is one of the poorest nations in Africa and the poverty hit me square between the eyes. Many of the children were dressed in clothes that were dirty and torn, the mothers didn't know how to use a disposable diaper b/c they had never used (or possibly seen) a diaper in their lives (they just tied cloths on them and would air them out when they got wet). The hospital was so poor and run down that they had to borrow several OR tables for surgeries from another hospital before we came because they only had two that weren't broken. I would see bugs in the ward on a regular basis and even saw a stray cat run through the ward one night. Another night, the hospital lost power and we had to work in the dark with our headlamps until the electrician could come and fix it. 

Got to spend time with lots of cute babies

The local nurses told me that it was not uncommon for the medical wards to have patients die on a regular basis because of the limitations of their hospital. It was probably the poorest hospital I've ever worked in. But at the same time, the patients and families were so happy with the surgeries. There were so many smiles and "thank-you's." I don't think I ever heard a patient or family complain about the conditions there. We tried to make it nice in the post-op ward, but it was still definitely sub-par by American standards. I can imagine the comments I would hear from my American patients if I put them in a room with 25 other patients with no air conditioning and bugs all over the place....or gave them a mattress and told them they basically had to sleep on the floor. I don't think that would go over so well.

Part of the "Thank You" ceremony the patients' families did for us

After that reality check in Malawi, I headed over to Zambia. I was working with local pastors in rural villages at least 100 km from the nearest hospital. I heard stories of children dying because their parents couldn't afford the malaria medicine which costs about $5. Another person told me that sometimes kids will be sick for a long time and even die because their families cannot afford to pay for transportation to the hospital (approximately $20 round trip). 

It all hit me the hardest the day I met Cami. We were doing home visits in the village and I noticed there was a little girl laying down inside one hut, only looking up occasionally. Finally her mom brought her out to us. The little girl was 7-years old, but very thin and weak. Her mom lifted up Cami's shirt so we could see how emaciated she was. You could see every single one of her ribs. Every bone in her body was prominent. She was literally skin and bones. Her mom set her down near us and the flies covered her face. She looked so weak and miserable. Suffering was written all over her face. But she wasn't this thin for lack of food. Her 3-year old brother was chubby and healthy. Her mom brought out Cami's medical record booklet, which showed she was born at a normal weight. She was right where she needed to be on the growth chart until somewhere between one and two years of age. Then her weight went significantly the opposite direction. Her mom told us she had started to have problems swallowing, along with intermittent vomiting. They had taken her to a local clinic a few times, but they couldn't figure out what was wrong. Her mother told us that they had wanted to take her to the big hospital, but they couldn't afford it. The medical care in Zambia is covered by the government, so all they needed to pay was transportation. But they didn't have $20. I sat there looking at Cami as her mom told us her story and I couldn't keep the tears from flowing. Things would never have gotten to this point in the States. I started thinking of IV nutrition, medical tests and all the things we could do for Cami if she was back in the U.S. It just wasn't fair. Here she was suffering and her mom had pretty much given up and accepted things the way they were. But it absolutely wasn't ok. No child should ever have to suffer like that. 

My first day meeting Cami

We asked if we could pray for Cami and her mom agreed and set her next to me. Cami was so weak that she just laid her head on my lap because it took too much energy to lift it. We laid hands on her and prayed for healing from the swallowing issues she was having. After we prayed, I had Cami sit up so I could try to give her some food. First her mom brought porridge. She ate it slowly, but got it down. Then I made her a vitamin drink with some dissolvable tablets that I had in my backpack. Gradually we moved from that to raisins, then small pieces of nuts that I had broken up for her. She was able to eat the food and she started perking up a little bit as I fed her. 

That night, her mom brought her to watch the Jesus Film at our camp. Afterwards, we asked if anyone wanted prayer. Cami's mom came up among several others and told us that Cami was doing better. She had eaten fish and shima (a local staple) after we prayed for her. It was the first time in a long time that she had been able to tolerate solid food. I came over to Cami to pray for her and laid my hand on her head. At that moment, she looked up at me with those big brown eyes. She looked into my eyes for a long time, then reached for my other hand and wrapped her little fingers around one of my fingers, just like a small baby would do. It was such a sweet moment. I could sense that she felt the love I had for her and prayed that she sensed God's love for her as well. 

The next day we arranged for Cami to go to the local hospital. I didn't see Cami again after that, but my friends at Trail Missions updated me the next week on how she was doing. Cami stayed in the hospital for almost a week and when she came home, they were able to bring her food and supplements to help her to gain weight with the money I had left with them. They have promised to keep me updated on her condition when they go back to visit her village.

It's so humbling to see children that are suffering like Cami and to hear stories of her and many others who can't afford a few dollars to pay to go to the hospital when their health or even their lives are in danger. We easily drop $20 or more on a dinner out or a night at the movies and don't give it a second thought. I recently heard a statistic that anyone who owns their own laptop is in the top 1% richest people in the world. Wow! I never really considered myself rich. I grew up in a middle class home. We always had enough, but we didn't necessarily always have the frills and fancy things like other kids. 

It's so easy to want more when you don't realize how much you've actually been given. But the truth is, compared to the rest of the world, most of us are filthy rich. I don't say that to make you feel guilty, but to make you stop and think. God said he had blessed Abraham so that he could be a blessing to others. I believe the same is true for us. We're not just blessed so we can hoard it and keep it for ourselves, but so we can bless others. We all know the saying that it's more blessed to give than to receive. That phrase may be a little cliché, but it is absolutely true. Our American culture is so self-centered. We are constantly taking selfies, absorbed in our own lives, plans, Facebook statuses, and finances that we rarely stop to see the needs around us. We get so caught up in the trivial things that we miss the many opportunities that God puts in front of us to sow into His Kingdom and make a lasting impact. The need may not be as obvious as an emaciated child who can't afford a ride to the hospital, but the need is still there if we take the time to look for it. 

My pastor recently said "In every room you walk into, there is some sort of need." It could be a need for a listening ear, a word of encouragement, a need for a friend, or some kind of material or financial need. But the need is there. We just have to get our eyes off ourselves long enough to see it. So who does God want you to bless today? Wherever you're at in your life, will you stop looking at the things you DON'T have and start looking at what you DO have and how you can use it to bless others? Chances are you're in that 1% of the population that has far more than you ever realized. 

Back to Africa

It has been awhile now since I left Africa...sometimes the memories seem so distant, but the people there are still so special to me and there is still a deep place in my heart that gets excited anytime I am reminded of that beautiful continent. And although I left the ship almost 3 years ago, the memory of the ship didn't leave me and often still comes up in everyday conversations and occasionally even in my dreams. So I had really hoped to be able to go back to visit the ship while it was docked in Madagascar. I had been working on Operation Smile missions for about a year and had heard that there was a mission to Antananarivo, Madagascar in April. I applied for the trip and waited....and waited. I knew the odds of getting on such a highly sought after trip were not very high for me since I was new to OpSmile and didn't have too many missions under my belt. But still I hoped...and prayed.


Then, through a series of God-ordained events, one of my leaders on another mission earlier this year "just happened" to mention to me that she had been contacted about a need for another nurse to Madagascar. I told her I had been trying to get on the mission and she put in a good recommendation for me. Within a few days, I had an email in my inbox inviting me to join the team. I could hardly believe it! This was really going to happen!


To add to the "coincidence," I found out that my friend Jaime was going to be working nights on the mission with me. We were both staying beyond the mission and decided we would travel together for a bit after the mission ended.


Antananarivo or "Tana" as it is more commonly called was not a disappointing place to end up. The people were definitely different than the Africans I had come to know so well in West Africa. I quickly came to learn that there was both Asian and African influence in Madagascar and the people looked and seemed to be a combination of the two...not quite as loud and friendly as the West Africans, but still very warm and kind-hearted. Many of them spoke French and I was excited to practice my broken French for the first time in a long time. Thankfully, there was always at least one person who understood French (or should I say MY French) who was able to translate into Malagasi to the other Mama's in the room.


In spite of the fact that I had only done three missions prior to Tana, I was designated the "nurse in charge" on night shift. Apparently, I have that "natural leader" trait, so I didn't have a choice. I enjoyed being able to help out the others as much as possible. Our local nurses were also wonderful and I had the opportunity of getting to know them well.

Our local nurse "Malala" and I with one of our patients before surgery

The mission went smoothly and in spite of moments of children crying and everyone needing their pain meds all at once, it was beautiful to be back in Africa, taking care of these wonderful people who were so grateful for the surgeries we were able to do for their little ones. There were too many cute kids to count and in spite of occasionally making the kiddos cry when I forced their medicine down them, I still ended the mission with a bunch of new friends (even some of the kids who decided to forgive me...it's amazing how much forgiveness hugs, bubbles, and toys can bring)!

We had so many wonderful patients with their own stories of hope. But one of my favorites was a father and his son who had their cleft lips fixed the same week. The Dad recalled that he had been sad about his cleft lip his whole life, but that when his son was born, he realized there was a purpose. Now his son wouldn't feel alone! He would be able to relate and empathize with his son. And now, so many years later, they were both having surgery. It was so special.


The mission came to an end before we knew it and Jaime and I headed out to the rainforest. What we didn't know was that our late departure from Tana and lack of planning was not the best combo for traveling out to the Volcana Lodge. Thankfully, though, we had God on our side and He definitely paved the way for us.

As the two of us boarded a bus full of people heading the direction we wanted to go, we got cozy as we realized we would have to put aside the term "personal space" for the duration of the trip. Thankfully, Jaime and I have both been in these situations before, so it wasn't a big deal for either of us. About 5 minutes after driving down the road, the bus stopped to pick up more people. We saw a guy get on who was wearing one of our "Operation Smile Madagascar" t-shirts. We said hi and realized he was one of the local surgeons from the team. And we were VERY grateful to have someone on the bus to tell us where to get off because we didn't really know what we were doing.

A couple hours later, we got to the town where we were supposed to get on the "connecting bus." We hadn't realized when we left town that there would be a time crunch. This was the very last one to go to the town we were headed and there was about one seat left...maybe. Jaime and I squeezed into the back, along with two other guys, who decided it would be easier for them to just stand on the back of the bus and hold on to the back door than to try to find a spot inside. We started off and within the first few minutes, Jaime had a chicken pecking at her foot. We couldn't help but laugh. This situation was not ideal, but it sure was comical...we were the only two white people in this bus that was jam-packed with people and animals and now a chicken was hoping that her toes were something he could eat. Thankfully, the ride on the chicken bus was only about 45 minutes (compared to several hours we had spent on the first, less crowded bus), but it was still long enough for Jaime and I to form a life-long chicken bus, random African experience, BFF connection. When we arrived at our destination, we found out that there were no taxis around. Thankfully, we had made a friend on the bus who happened to work at the hotel we were staying. We were able to get a ride up to the hotel instead of walking several miles up a dirt road that was now covered in mud from the rain (not to mention it was getting dark). So it was the grace of God that we made it in one piece.

The next several days were filled with lots of fun activities, a walk through the rainforest to spot families of lemurs, a "night walk" where we saw lots of chameleons and other fun little animals with our flashlights. We even got to visit a little island that was full of lemurs that we were able to feed. It was so funny having them all crawl around my shoulders and walk on my head. They LOVED the bananas we brought them and reminded me a lot of little monkeys!

Jamie and I with the lemurs

After our fun trip to Volcana Lodge, Jaime and I headed back from our trip and then parted ways, as I started out for Tamatave to see my friends from Mercy Ships. It was very different visiting the ship as a guest instead of being there as a crew member, but I had a lot of fun catching up with old friends, visiting the patients on the ward, and helping out with the kids at the orthopedic rehab center down the road. I also brought some fun things for the kids at the "Hope Center," the facility that Mercy Ships used for patients who needed follow-up, but no longer needed to be hospitalized and had no place to stay in Tamatave. The kids quickly warmed up to me and before long, we were taking tons of selfies and goofy photos. I couldn't help but think to myself "Oh Africa, I have missed you!"

Before I knew it, it was time to leave Tamatave. I had a nice little stop in South Africa on my way home for a safari, as well as a visit to several old friends from Mercy Ships. I came home with a full heart, grateful for the opportunity to see so many dear friends and make many new friends in two amazing African countries. Until next time, Africa...

Guatemala

Throughout my travels, there have been several places that I immediately fell in love with. One of those was Guatemala. I was so excited when I found out that I had the opportunity to go back! I arrived in Guatemala City almost exactly a year to date since my first trip there in October 2015 with Helps International. There is something about Guatemala that really captured my heart. From the warm-hearted people and rich culture to the beautiful lake, volcanoes, and amazing scenery, it's hard to go there and not love it!

This mission was honestly my favorite Operation Smile mission so far. We had an amazing team comprised of lots of internationals, including volunteers from Brazil, Peru, Sweden, Spain, Italy, Australia, Norway, Bolivia, Venezuela, US, Canada and of course Guatemala. We had awesome team leaders and everyone seemed to come together quickly to accomplish a common purpose: to give the best care to the children of Guatemala. 

Screening flowed smoothly and there was even a special program on the stage to entertain the kids during some of the waiting periods. I was able to connect with several of the kids as they came through the vital sign station. The Spiderman and princess tattoos I had brought were very popular with the kids and they all wanted one before they passed on to the next station. There was one little girl in particular named Telma who bonded with me immediately. I was grateful that we finished the vital signs and registration stations a bit early that day because she was waiting and ready to play. She had brought her own little bag with a kid-sized brush and play makeup. 

The kids were happy to show off their princess tattoos

So we set up her "beauty parlor" in the back and I did her hair and makeup. Then it was my turn. Thankfully, another little girl came along before I was completely decked out in hot pink eye shadow and we we were able to switch over to doing her hair. After we finished with our "beauty parlor," the girls started asking me about my stethoscope and I was able to teach them how to listen to their heart and lungs. I decided to take advantage of their curiosity and the teaching moment and taught them how to check their radial and carotid pulses too. Then I pulled out my pulse-oximeter and taught them how to check their pulse and oxygen level with that fun little gadget. The girls were very fascinated and I told them that they should consider being nurses when they grow up! 

Telma and I 

Learning to use a pulseox

Eventually we had to pack up and part ways, but  I received multiple hugs before they finally left. Screening had been a success and I had the chance to play with the kids this time too, which was definitely a bonus! 

We were very blessed to have such a wonderful hospital to work in with some incredible staff! They even converted an extra room into an OR for us the day before surgery! The head nurse, Rosy, was also one of my favorite people. She was so kind and humble and helped us with everything we could possibly think of that we needed in the hospital.

A few friends with Rosy (far right)

Before long, the operating rooms were in full swing and lots of babies and children were getting new lips and palates. I tried to get a bit of extra rest that first day, as I was getting ready to start my stretch of night shifts. In spite of my efforts, I was pretty exhausted after the first night, especially since the other night shift volunteer was from Peru, so there was only Spanish-speaking. Needless to say, my rusty Spanish improved very quickly. 

My night nurse buddy Ana and our pediatrician Alexie

One of the great things about working night shift is that once everyone gets settled, things slow down and there is more time to talk to the patients and families. Generally, most of them are sleeping by this time, but for some reason, we seemed to have at least one child every night that decided to wake up in the middle of the night who wanted to play. It was sweet to watch the mamas attempt to play with the kids in spite of their sleepy eyes and obvious exhaustion. Occasionally, the kids would want to play with the nurses or let us hold them, but mama always had to be in sight or they would cry. So, in this case, there was no rest for the weary when it came to the poor parents. But in spite of their exhaustion, it was evident that the parents had so much joy that their children had been able to receive their surgeries!

In the middle of the night, as different children would wake up ready to play, their parents would bring them out to the hallway and start talking to the nurses. During this time, I had the opportunity to hear some of their individual stories. One in particular touched my heart. It was the story about David Gomez, an adorable 11-month old little boy who was born with cleft lip. His mother, Adela was smiling as she was watching David play with a beautiful smile and a perfect lip. He had just had surgery that day, but his lip was healing so well that you could barely see the incision line. 

As Adela began her story, her eyes filled up with tears and her voice became shaky. "I had seen other babies with cleft lip before David was born, but I never thought it would happen to me. I had three healthy children and then David was born. It was such a shock when we saw that he had a cleft lip. It broke my heart to see him that way. Every time I looked at him, I felt sad. I just wanted my baby to be healthy." Whenever other children would see her baby, they would ask what happened to him. She would try to explain that he was born that way, but couldn't help but feel sad for her baby. 

Adela started to look into options to get David's lip fixed. There was a surgeon in the area, but he wasn't a specialist for cleft lips. Finally, she found a specialist, but it was too expensive and she knew that she couldn't afford it. Then, a medical group came down for a cleft lip mission, so she took a bus to the city where they were holding the mission in hopes of getting help. But when she arrived, she found out that she had been misinformed and the mission had already ended. Feeling hopeless, she returned back to their hometown of San Marcos. 

Then one day, Adela's 7-year old son called out to her from the living room "Hurry Mommy, come here!" Adela rushed to the room and found her son watching a tv commercial for Operation Smile. "Look Mommy, they can fix David's lip! I want to see my baby brother like that with his mouth fixed. You have to take him to those people." This was the first time Adela had ever heard of Operation Smile. With renewed hope, she took down the information and prayed that she would be able to finally see her baby with a new lip.

As the day for screening approached, Adela said she began to get nervous. "I had heard that they wouldn't be able to do the surgery if he got sick or had a cough, so I was trying my best to keep him healthy." When screening day arrived, David was in good health and ready for surgery! Soon Adela received a surgery date and information on when to bring her son to the hospital. David was finally going to get his surgery! 

David recovered quickly and took his medicine like a champ. "I'm so happy he can have a normal mouth now," she told us trying to hold back the tears. "I am just so grateful." 

David and Adela

It was so great to hear David's story and so many others as each night passed. It was such a great reminder to me of why we do what we do. It is worth all of the jet lag, hard work, night shifts and tired days. Because at the end of it all, we had 99 babies and children with each of their own stories who received their own special miracle and now each one of them has a bright future. I am so grateful that I got to be a part of each of their amazing stories! I hope it's not long before I get to come back and be part of another incredible mission!