One of the lessons I treasure most from being a nurse is that people are people. The night before surgery is kind of scary. Getting a new IV hurts. The morning of surgery is busy. Everyone gets queasy (and maybe pukes) after surgery. Peeing in a bedpan is hard… especially the first time. Surgical incisions are painful and it makes getting out of bed tricky. When you have any kind of splint or cast, positioning is key. If you have your limb in one position for too long, it doesn’t matter how much pain medication you get… it will still be extremely uncomfortable.

I know all of this theoretically in my head, but deep down I think I still believed that being a nurse here would feel very foreign… That somehow all I’ve learned would be rendered useless halfway across the world on a boat. But the reality is “B ward” (where I work) is the place I feel most at home. There is a lot that is almost exactly the same and some that only has a slight twist.

Before our patients go to surgery, we offer to pray with them. My first patient to surgery was prayed over by my preceptor who happens to be German. That morning she prayed in German, I prayed in English, and our patient speaks Susu… BUT the smile on that sweet girl’s face after we said “Amen” needed no translation. She was still a little nervous about rolling out for surgery, but you could see in her eyes that she knew she was loved. After she was taken to the OR, her grandmother stayed on the ward quietly, patiently, prayerfully waiting for her grandbaby to come out of surgery. Grandmother’s heart didn’t need a translator either. I’ve seen it hundreds of times in the faces of my patients’ loved ones at home.

But some things are very different…

Our ward has 20 beds in one room partitioned into two areas. There are 10 beds on each side. The beds are all on little risers so that a caregiver can sleep under the patient’s bed. Between the staff and patients, there are a lot of people in one space. It can get pretty warm and I sweat through my scrubs by the end of the shift most days.

When we get our patients out of bed for the first time after surgery, we still have to do so carefully. But once everyone is standing… we have a DANCE PARTY. Patients, grandmas, nurses, mamas, casts, and all become a bouncing, clapping, limping, singing, beautiful mess. Friday we spilled out into the hall and made a parade out of it. Smiles abound. This has become one of my favorite things.

I am so grateful to dance and sweat and pray and smile with my patients. (I’m still trying to figure out how to export this dancing tradition to patients back home.) But I still can’t believe I’m here. Thank you to everyone who prayed, encouraged, and sacrificed to make this time possible.