These have been difficult days in the hospital with so many complicated cases. People come for care so late and often as a last resort after they have been to traditional healers or been operated on by an unqualified person. It is called MPEC (pronounced “empeck”), and it is an acronym that I’ve come to know and fear. It stands for “Meilleur prise en charge” (better care). This is the most common reason for transfer to Nyankunde from another hospital. What MPEC means is basically that the referring physicians have no idea what to do, that they’ve performed a number of detrimental operations and that they’re afraid that the patient will die on them. This week I’ve dealt with a number of MPEC cases.
We struggle to know how to handle the needs. Some people live and others die. It is hard to know how hard to try…and when it is ok to say “stop.” Both Warren and I struggle to experience joy in the daily experience as we slog through it all. I need to remember and claim the promises of God. It is a deliberate choice to give thanks and rejoice for He is always good. We need to remember continually that the “Joy of the Lord is my strength,” not in a trite spiritual sense but in a deep, gut-wrenching battle sense.