This week we almost lost one of our colleagues.
On Monday evening, September 28th, Chris Hanson, a Bible translator for the Baka people of Cameroon, started bleeding profusely and collapsed. Throughout the next week, he received at least 6 blood transfusions (I lost count), was transferred between three different clinics/hospitals, and at one point his hemoglobin fell to a 5 (supposed to be between 13-17). He later told us that during all this, he said to himself, “I might die right now.”
To understand the magnitude of the situation, it helps to understand how hospitals in Cameroon function. In the States, families usually wait in the waiting room while doctors and nurses provide care for their loved one. In hospitals here, friends and family are with the sick person almost the whole time, trying to keep them alive. In fact, it is ideal to have a team of three friends in the hospital with the patient. One person goes to local pharmacies to get the patient necessary medications; another person sends updates to friends and family, helps the patient get up and down from bed to use the restroom, and, if he can eat, brings him food. Another person watches the medical team, asks questions, and makes sure they are doing their jobs.
Fortunately, Chris was not the victim of hospital neglect this week, but he could have been. Chris himself took a man in a crisis state to a hospital in the East region, where he was given a frozen bag of blood and told to thaw it before the man could receive a transfusion. He watched it thaw in a bucket of water for three hours while the man sat beside him, fighting for his life. Later, once admitted, this same man fell out of his hospital bed, foaming at the mouth, and the staff left him on the ground. Sadly, but not surprisingly, this man didn’t make it.
My hospital stories aren’t much better. I took a friend in labor to the hospital, where the nurse said to wake her up once her water broke, and left me alone with her while she went back to sleep. Another friend needed an emergency C-section, and the hospital staff sat around and looked at their phones without any sense of urgency. All this to say, Chris could have been, but was not, a victim of hospital neglect this week. Thank you, Lord.
On Friday, the GI doctor found over 100 inflamed ulcers in his colon, and this inflammation had led to the massive blood loss. Just today, Chris returned home, where he will recover. He will have a biopsy performed in a few weeks and then will see what underlying condition led to this inflammation.
Now that Chris is home, the hospital bills have been paid, and there is no more medication to find, I can sit and reflect on a few things the Lord has taught me this week.
I lay my hand on my mouth before God. Job speaks for me when he addresses God, saying, “Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth” (Job 40.3-4). Of all the emotions this week has brought about, the most prevalent is a humble reverence before a great God from whom life and death come. In the words of Hannah, “The Lord kills and brings to life; he brings down to Sheol and raises up” (1 Samuel 2:6).
Chris is us. He is a fellow translator, our age, working in our same region, and he went to the same schools as us in the States. And he had a sudden brush with death. If it can happen to him, it can happen to us. When I lived in America, it was easy for me to forget my fragility as a creature, but living here reminds me that I will pass away whenever God has preordained that to happen.
I cannot think of any other response than to be silent before my Creator, the one who has the power to give me life and to take it back at any moment. And so, I lay my hand on my mouth before God.
Dying to make live. Another idea on my mind is that the Lord has made it so that life must be shared for it to continue. That is, the life within us must be given to those who are running out of life. God is the King of Life, and he has woven life into this world. When someone’s share of life is in jeopardy, others give a portion of their lives to help restore it. For instance, this week about ten people came to the hospital to donate blood for Chris. Right now, it is their blood is keeping him alive. Another example of dying to make live is to consider how long doctors remain in school to have the right knowledge at the exact right time to save someone’s life.
Jesus himself said, “Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds” (John 12.24). Jesus reminds us that we cannot extend the lives of others without putting some skin in the game. Through daily sacrifices, daily giving, and daily dying, others may live. I saw this theme in countless ways throughout this last week in the hospital with Chris and Rachel.
And so now what? Ministry continues with a newfound humility and gratitude before the giver and taker of life. May he have mercy on us all and on those who so desperately need his salvation.
