Dignity

Mohammed Hamdan died the other day, less than a week after returning to the Gaza strip to be near to his family as he went. The quickness in which his condition deteriorated once at home was much more rapid than we expected. It took several weeks to prepare to take him home. The 28 medications he was on needed to be changed to those available in the Gaza Strip, and he was taken off of the ones with a narcotic effect, and arrangements for direct ambulance transport needed to be arranged. His last day at the hospital was spend making sure all of his meds were in order, saying goodbye to everyone in the hospital, and the most surprising thing: making him human.

The appearance of Mohammed in the ICU has been that of a corpse, blue and nearly bloated beyond recognition. The ICU patients lay there nearly naked like cadavers, with various parts missing and instruments plugged into them; a cable from the skull, amputations and black extremities, IV holes and chest wounds which do not heal. So gruesome that when they look up at you or cry for their mother you are startled that what is before you really is alive, it’s not some sick plastic doll or horror movie prop.

But, because he was not on certain drugs the day he left, he looked like a little boy. His mother bought him a new set of clothes for the journey back home. It was not until after I had dressed him that I realized that in the 5 months he has been here I had not once seen him wearing clothes. There, seated before me, was a human being. It was surprising to me how much a little normalcy and dignity go in making the weak and helpless endlessly more human.


I have often felt guilty for giving up hope on Mohammed Hamdan, so much effort is put into sustaining him and there was so little chance that he would survive, and I found myself put to shame by most of the doctors who faithfully assessed him every day and treated him like any other patient. I would always pray for him, for his mother, and the situation surrounding them but I always struggled to get specific. I still do not know if it is right to pray that a child might die in this circumstance, that their suffering would end, that it would just be finished. To think of him as the moving cadaver in the ICU or the little boy dressed his finest to go home adds much to the question.

Riots on the Streets of Jerusalem

I try to avoid posting political stuff as much as possible, but I feel that sharing this story is valuable in helping those who are not in Israel understand just how different the political arena is here, and why it is perhaps so difficult to convey the complexities of it to someone without the same exposure to it. So rather than stating an opinion or taking a side on anything, I just hope to convey, it is different.

Last week, there were circling helicopters, streets blocked offed for a kilometer around, and 6 police officers injured by stones thrown by Haredi Jews who gathered in the thousands at Jerusalem city hall. There were two squad cars blocking the street right in front of Shevet, the city hall is only a good stones throw away (pun intended).

Why were they rioting? Because the city hall decided to open its parking lot on Saturdays of course!

Here are some links to articles about it:
Jerusalem Post 1
Jerusalem Post 2
Haaretz

Schnitzel Baguette and a Liter of Coca-Cola

It was a few days ago now during my rush to get things done in the hospital that Mohammed Hamdan’s mother approached me at around 2 o’clock (we refer to the mothers of patients as Im (Arabic) or Um (Kurdish) followed by their child’s name). Im Mohammed has been in the hospital now with her son for about 5 months, so we have gotten to know each other fairly well. She has also apparently gotten used to the often frantic nature of my routine and recognized that if I was still running around at 2 o’clock that I probably hadn’t eaten. When I finally got a chance to sit down, she walked into the room with a foot long schnitzel baguette and a liter bottle of Coca-Cola from the hospital mall, just for me. This was an incredible gesture, most people in Gaza live in poverty and here she had spent close to $10 US on me for lunch. This was one of the most powerful gestures anyone has done for me since I’ve been here. Afterward I found out that one of our Iraqi patients of about 9-years-old, who I was helping in the hospital that day, didn't understand and confronted her about why she would buy food for me, she responded by scolding him saying "because he is a good man!"

The doctor’s have exhausted all options to save Mohammed. After his first heart surgery he needed to get strong enough to undergo a second surgery, and he simply has not gotten any stronger. The doctors have just been waiting for him to become stable in his present condition to be transferred to a hospital in Gaza where, in all likelihood, he will not live long. Mohammed and his mother will likely travel either Sunday or Monday back to Gaza, please keep them in your prayers.

Sometimes our Gaza families get left out of some opportunities we have to minister to and connect with our patients because they are not legally allowed to leave the hospital grounds, while our Iraqi families actually live in the same building with us. So a couple days before I left for Jordan, when the rest of the staff were starting a picnic with the Iraqis on the hospital lawn, I ran through the hospital ward collecting the Palestinian mothers and their kids to join us. They were very grateful to be included, and once again made a bit of a scene having an entourage of half a dozen Palestinian women following behind me as I showed them the way.

Back Home Safe from the Jordan Screening

All the families made it across into Jordan; I had faith that they would, but it would have been quite a feat by earthly standards. 60 people without visas, crossing a militarized border, it's just unheard of. Not only was everyone allowed to cross, but the border guard brought our Jordan coordinator a gourmet coffee while he waited,..wow.

To recap, the screening in Jordan is done once a year for the potential Iraqi patients. Jordan is more or less a neutral ground. We coordinate the entire trip and get them to Amman to be screened by an Israeli cardiologist who determines if and when a surgery is necessary or possible for each child.

Read all about the screening here: http://shevet.org/screening/

As for my personal involvement, I drove to the border from Jerusalem with the rest of the staff in tow at around 6:30 Monday morning, made good time to the border, and even better getting through (not having a bunch of Iraqi's with you helps). We made it to Amman in time to drop our stuff off where we would be sleeping and get to the screening site in a very nice modern church. We spent the evening briefing the families on what would be happening, sharing some encouraging words, meeting them, eating a meal together with them all, and prepping the facility for the screening in the morning.

We made it back to the place we were staying around 11pm and went straight to bed for the big day which would begin at 5:45am for me. I couldn't get to sleep because of the combination of heat and tormenting mosquitoes; my options were to sleep uncovered and be eaten alive, or cover my whole body and sweat out the night. I chose the latter, and found myself finally dozing around 2:30am when the air finally cooled. Needless to say it was a rough start getting going on the big day.

My duties involved doing all the photo documentation for each child so we would have something better than a lineup photo to present to potential sponsors, as well as pacifying/entertaining the families while they waited (usually hours) to be seen. This was no easy task given the number of children with separate handicaps, including violent behavioral issues and mental retardation. Despite this I managed to create some meaningful bonds with many of the children.

We finished the screening at around 1am on Wednesday, about 19 hours of consecutive work later. I've worked exceedingly long days before, but the amount of energy required for this, in addition to the lack of sleep, countless nagging bug bites (I'd estimate around 30), and a spontaneous fit of allergies that had me blowing my nose every 10 minutes for 15 hours, made it pretty grueling. It was all worth it in the end. 21 children were invited to surgery in Israel, as well as another 3 that are possibly savable, 4 children who need no surgery, and 3 were found to have no medical hope for treatment. We should have 5 with us in Israel within a couple weeks.

Wednesday was nearly as long as the Tuesday screening. Wednesday we collected all the families at their hotel, informed them of when they would be coming to Israel, and got them all packed and off to the airport once again. I spent a few precious hours playing with the children, and praying for the terminal ones, before seeing them off. After finishing the remaining work, and packing everything up, we left for home and made it back to Jerusalem around 1am Thursday.

Since I was the photographer, I have all the pictures of the children at the screening cataloged and named here for you. Just click below, and please keep them in your prayers.

Jordan Screening 2009