As one of the only non-medical members of Team Heart here in
Rwanda this year, I can’t say I know much about the details of heart
surgery. I’m grateful that we have
a whole group of really smart, thoughtful people who ARE experts on the subject
and are anxious to share their stories—I promise to leave that part of Team
Heart ‘s day-to-day in their expert hands.
Before arriving in Rwanda, I wondered how I might find a way
to really connect with Team Heart—and how our supporters, followers, friends,
families, donors, and general Boston fans might do the same without the benefit
of a medical background. It became clear pretty quickly that these patients are
something special, and they all have a story. To me, that’s the hook. These patients have names, faces,
families, dreams, some amazing curiosity, and now, bright futures. What does it look like when they start
to feel safe again after the surgery? When they realize they’re not going to
die, and they allow themselves to feel hopeful? When do they lower their
guards? These patients have been given back their lives…what will those lives
entail going forward?
Over the last week, I have watched some of these stories
unfold. Some stories are in their
infancy; some are second hand; some started with Team Heart at the beginning
and are incredible to see today. There
is one gentleman who is currently in the step down unit at King Faisal. He was
the first surgery of the 2013 trip, and he is just amazing. This patient is older than most of the
people we see, but at 39, he has a beautiful wife, a new baby, and a good job
at the Ministry of Defense in Rwanda.
This past Monday, he had a successful single valve replacement
operation, and just 2 or 3 days later, he was like a new person. I first met him in the ICU recovery
room after his surgery, and soon after that, I found myself looking forward to
seeing him each day. Many of the
patients speak a minimal amount of English, and when they are weak and tired in
the days after surgery, it’s hardly a surprise that they don’t feel like saying
much in a secondary language. This
man, so soft-spoken and warm and smart, surprised me with his mastery of the
language and seemed to go out of his way to engage us every day. “Good Morning, Mackenzie” was the
simple greeting that I looked forward to.
I could gush forever about his sweet personality, but it was
one particular conversation with this man that will stay with me. As I sat next to his bed chatting and
sharing pictures one afternoon, he politely asked if he might ask me a “complex
question.” He explained that, to him, Team Heart seemed like a military operation.
He wanted to know how the whole thing worked, and I was struck by his
thoughtful questions: Team Heart
is so organized, how did that happen? (The answer to that one was easy:
Ceeya!). How do we pay for all the medical supplies? How do we get them here?
Do we leave our families behind in the United States to come to Rwanda? Is that
hard for us? How do we pay for the trip? How do we get so much done in so few
days? How do we take time away from work for the trip? Are we working together
with the government in Rwanda? How
will the program go on once we return home? Maybe I shouldn’t have been
surprised by his questions, but I was.
These patients come to us in need of help, feeling quite vulnerable, and
Team Heart heals them. That’s enough for anyone to try to process. But he had
thought so much about the program beyond what he was seeing first hand, and I
realized that he truly cared beyond the scope of his own experience. It was a meaningful reminder that these
surgeries change the lives of the patients, but they also change the doctors
and nurses and team members who become part of that story; in the big picture,
this project forges deeply strong bonds and connections among people—and even
though we are the caregivers, the patients care for us too.
- Mackenzie
