Wrapping up - Surgery Day 7

A father in the pediatric ward created a make-shift hammock that he
rocked all night to calm his son to sleep. At 16 months, JB had a
tough start being 22 weeks premature his father tells me. They lived at
hospital for 4 months. "He's strong," his father tells me. He's adorable,
too -- big dark eyes lined with long lashes.

Today feels different than the other days. It’s our last day of surgeries and when it’s all said and done we will have seen 104 patients, provided surgery on all who we could help (66). Many lives have been changed already and we’ve seen the happy faces leaving the pediatric ward. I’m told we’ll see many of them tomorrow at the post-operative clinic when they come for a final check by the surgeons, pediatricians, and dentists and receive any final instructions.

It’s been a long week and everyone is tired but pushing, offering the last of their energy, smiles, and love to the final patients.

Severall non-medical team members took the opportunity to watch the final surgeries. I declined the offer -- not out of disrespect or disgust, but rather, I know my limitations and I've seen more than I'd planned or hoped for this week. It's cool to see them come out after the surgeries feeling more connected to the patients and wearing expressions of impressed appreciation for our talented surgeons.

As the last patient, 19-year-old Jonathan, was wheeled out of the recovery room, he held up both thumbs and the remaining staff in the OR let out a cheer. The surgical work was complete, and our final patient was happy.

JB hangs out in his hammock

Next, the operation was mobilized again but with a new purpose – it’s time to pack up our things and prepare for tomorrow’s clinic. The huge boxes in which our supplies were shipped over with us from San Francisco started to appear again. I’m a little sad to see this. Within the hour we’ve repacked our boxes and are ready for tomorrow. The knowledge of what we face tomorrow gives everyone that last little boost of energy. The mission that felt impossible at several junctures is wrapping up. And, many of us will be returning home changed forever.

Our final stop at the hospital for the day is in the breakroom where a cake has been prepared and we again hear words of appreciation for all of the week's efforts.

Mission director Brian conducts "surgery" on the
celebratory cake -- no anesthesia or nurses.