Another one with a lot of pictures: December to May

 December!

OR Day: Today´s challenge includes how to fit your specimen
for the patient to take home into the specimen container.
Yes, they wanted to take it home. No, we don´t really know why.

Happy Lille Yuleaften (December 23rd)
from the House Sitters and our dirty plates!
Never heard of this holiday?
Ask your nearest Scandinavian relative. 

Feliz Navidad from Cinthia and I!

Lesson learned:
When you attack the boys on the hill
with water balloons on a sunny Sunday afternoon,
they just might wake you up on a rainy Monday morning
after you worked a night shift to throw them back at you. 

January!

Look who came to visit!
(Yes, we are wearing matching shirts)

View from the Water Tower, on our hill-mountain thing

Oh, so cute. Almost ¨print it out for Grandma´s refrigerator¨ worthy

Little guy just wanted to help with music for Fellowship night
(He was rewarded with death shortly after. Thanks, Minions)

Group Activity during Respiratory System class

When the student teaches her teachers,
she stands back and takes pictures of the chaos.

February!

¨Lizzie, on a scale from 1 to 25 how much do you love Ultimate Frisbee?¨
¨32.¨

Yes, we all wish we pull off that much cute and sass at one time.

We like our coworkers.
They let us kidnap their children and feed them ice cream and pop.
Then we send said children home. Enjoy, parents.

¨Suffering for Jesus¨

February´s Night Shift Project: Tame the ER

March!

Happiness is reuniting with old friends

And celebrating the lives of new ones

Community Star Wars Movie Night!

My parents came to visit!
Also, shout out to the child perfectly photo-bombing in the back.
I aspire to be you.

Sweaty, but happy:
my partner in crime (she also goes by Heather)
and I found the waterfall!

April!

Chocolate Chip Cookie Baking Night

¨Waiting their turn to help¨

Group Shot: We´re big fans of our missionary kids

Makeshift Tube Feeding for my patient on the ventilator:
refried beans, ice cream, water.
Not pictured: a multivitamin, carrot or tomato

Erlinda is my hero.
And I´m not saying that because I couldn´t figure out the blender.
Nope.

Not that I´ve ever had a favorite anti-venom before,
but this is my new favorite.
A lot of prayer and about 20 vials of this anti-pit viper venom.
Adding this patient to the list of
"Those who shouldn't have made it, but did." 

How to keep the ants away from your food:
If you can't outrun them, outsmart them.

Saturdays are Ultimate Frisbee days.
And this particular Saturday was also a Crash C-Section Day too.
Val (pictured) and I took care of baby
while Momma was in excellent hands in the OR.

May!

I really love these people. 

This little guy hung out at the nurse's station for DAYS without moving.

Hiking up to killer views of the ocean

Gracias for keeping up with me!

Blood that saves

I was on call last weekend. We had a patient who had come in--unbeknownst to us, with cirrhosis of the liver and pancreatic cancer. All that we knew at the time was that he had gastrointestinal bleeding and he was losing blood faster than we could put into him.

At Loma de Luz, we have a "walking blood bank". By that, I mean we have a list of everyone's blood type on a piece of paper in the lab. When a patient comes in and needs a blood transfusion, we call the person who matches the blood type and they give their blood. All is well and happy, right?

It just so happens that I share the same blood type as our dear gentleman with the gastrointestinal bleeding. Around 12:30am last Sunday, I received a radio call from the nurse on shift saying my blood was needed. This is an unusual way for me to start my conversations at midnight, after being asleep for a couple of hours. However, between my sleepiness-induced slurrings and my brain trying to decipher another language after shutting that switch off hours ago, we somehow communicated. It was not a vampire calling me. It was a medical necessity. Got it. I left on my roommate's 4-wheeler and zipped down the hill (Yes, Grandma, cautiously, of course), ready with a liter of water, granola bars, and a book.

After tracking down the nurse (who was helping deliver a rosie-pink newborn, as I walked in), I made my way to the ER. The ER is our designated "blood donation collection area". Nolvia, one of our excellent lab techs, joins me, as well as Elsa, a magnificent nurse's aide.

I have this pre-existing thing where I feel like I'm going to pass out at random times: like when my coworkers talk about blood, or I watch an IV be put in someone's vein, or someone's hernia is being repaired surgically, or I'm being tested for allergies. Random.

I have a new one for my unintentionally elongating list: donating blood.

After almost making it to a whole unit of blood donated, the next thing I know my arm hurts and Nolvia is telling me to wake up. And that I'm green. And my lips are blue. And that I did a weird contracting of my arms thing as I passed out. I guess I should be thankful since there are worse colors to be--like mauve or highlighter yellow.

Apparently, I passed out. I felt great after--well, not like GREAT. But surprisingly well-rested. Nolvia, however, did not look so great or thrilled with my 60-second rest of heavenly bliss. She looked whiter than the bed sheet I was on, which I then realized was wet. Upon further questioning of my witnesses, it was explained to me Nolvia very kindly tried to help me drink from my bottle of water, when realizing Lizzie wasn't looking so great. Then The Incident occurred. With my apparent sudden contracting limbs and color change, the bottle went flying as Nolvia tried to remove the needle still present in my antecubital vein. I was just glad it was water.

Just as I was getting ready to go home--driving the 4-wheeler, no less--it starts torrentially down-pouring. I hang out at the nurse's station and try to read my book. Ha.

The time is now after 3am and Dr. Ryan, my temporary downstairs and extremely kind neighbor, who had been checking on his patient, offered to follow me home.

As comical as that night might seem to me now, its purpose was short-lived. I made it. Our patient, Mr. D, on the other hand, didn't fair as well. When I got that midnight radio call, I didn't expect to spend my week looking at a bruise on my arm, knowing it's lasted longer than our patient's life.

My blood couldn't save him, nor could the blood of his family members or the other staff & missionaries. Our patient went into surgery to have an exploratory procedure to see if they could figure out why he was bleeding. There the surgeons discovered the condition of his liver and the cancer consuming his body. His body was weak. He never recovered.
After surgery, Oscar, our hospital chaplain, was able to speak to Mr. D in his brief moments in and out of consciousness. Oscar asked if he knew his Savior. He did--confirmed by his wife, who stood faithfully and silently by his side, along with his grieving sons and daughters.

We've left this week with heavy hearts, knowing the loss and grief Mr. D's family is experiencing. However, we rejoice knowing he no longer suffers or has a tube down his throat or aching fevers or exhausting, sleepless nights. He can rest in God's presence eternally.
I've also left this week with a renewed appreciation of the blood Jesus shed for us--a price that I can never repay, but pray to reflect everyday.

Although my blood couldn't save our patient, I'm thankful Jesus Christ's blood can. I'm thankful Mr. D knew that too.