Island Hopping - Perhaps A Bit Too Much

After Puerto Rico to Guadeloupe to Martinique to a stop in Saint Lucia and on to Saint Vincent- all  in four days, we were ready to stay put for a week, even if it was in Saint Vincent during the beginning of their Carnival or Vincy Mas as they call it. ( Photo of Saint Lucia)

We thought all Carnival celebrations were held in the Spring as in New Orleans, Louisiana USA - we were wrong.  That's when Guadeloupe holds  their party also ( these things go on for two to three weeks)  but we came to learn that each island in the Caribbean has their own timing for the event which goes on throughout the year.  Thus we learned that we had arrived at the beginning of Carnival 

( a nice name for a pure celebration of sin and debauchery) in Saint Vincent  at the end of June.  We knew something was up when we entered their little airport and saw hanging on the walls a variety of headless half naked mannequins in feathers and rhinestones.  In spite of all that,  we were able to get much of our work done and the missionaries prepared to hunker down in their apartments for the duration.

We were no sooner back in Gwada running around doing immigration paperwork for ourselves and the missionaries when one of our Elders ( that is the title of  their calling of proselyting, not necessarily an indication of wisdom - most are only 19 years old) ended up in the island's infamous hospital.  What happened? A man had gone  right up to Elder L and stole his bike.  Our brave little missionary grabbed the fellow who then punched him in the face, which broke Elder L's  jaw and fractured his cheekbone in two places! The crowd grabbed the man and so did the police. Our missionary was put in an ambulance and we caught up with him in the ER where he waited for only seven hours before being admitted.  There was a lot of blood and he was one sad hurting young man.  For the next two days the doctors went back and forth as to what should be done to help him.

It was finally decided that he should get home immediately,  and have the surgery there. I was impressed that the doctors admitted that they did not have the right equipment to perform the operation with the latest techniques as in the USA and Canada.  I was also impressed that I managed to understand two solid days of French medical language. Definitely had some spiritual help on that one. I don't even understand it in English.  Long story short, thankfully our mission medical advisor and her husband flew in that second evening to help us get him out and on his way because while we were upstairs in the hospital, Sister S was downstairs being admitted in the ER for Zika related symptoms.  Sister Clawson (medical) waited downstairs in the ER for Sister S all night long. ( She was in the ER for 26 hours, half paralyzed for part of the time,  and was never admitted).  It was quite late at night when we took Elder Clawson, Elder L, and another missionary who had torn up his knee, all to a hotel for the night before flying them out the next morning - Elder K to Georgia for his knee and Elder L with the Clawsons to Edmonton, Canada. Medical missionaries are amazing.  A couple weeks later, Sister Clawson had to escort Sister S home ...to Tahiti. It was a total of 77 hours of traveling there and back! That was even further than going to Canada.  Talk about dedication.        

     

After that - things were back to normal with trips to the airport ( photo of the crowd watching a TV in the terminal for  the European Cup Semi Fiinals Football match - France won that game) Super!

More trips to CHU to pay hospital bills and do some of our own immigration medical run a around - This is  one of the offices in the hospital we had to go to for TB testing.  It was dripping with black mold and it is the pulmonary unit! It smelled so bad we couldn't breathe in there.

At least the ceiling on Elder L's floor didn't have mold on it - but then,  a lot of it was missing...

We inspected all the apartments and especially liked this bit of ingenuity demonstrated by one set of missionaries.  We had given them money to buy a seat and lid for their toilet ( since there wasn't any)   - but they found the door wouldn't close  once they installed it.  So here was their solution... 

We took care of some apartment insurance issues, attended church in Abymes Branch, went to a Missionary Zone Meeting and got ready to leave for St. Vincent again. ( Weren't we just there??). We got to the airport and found out our flight booking had mysteriously been cancelled so we re-booked for two days later. We left and returned and then we were on our way. One of our goals was to help the missionaries on transfer day there ( those occur every six weeks) but scarcely anyone transferred on that day as the flights in and out of the island were all full due to Carnival!  Some missionaries were scheduled to leave as far out as two weeks later.  Getting around these islands is difficult. 

Sunday morning 5:00 our lives took a sharp turn.  My husband felt pain in his chest, dryness in his throat, and got up to get a glass of water in the kitchen.  Then he felt nauseous, his arms went numb, and he blacked out, hitting the back of his head with a crack on the tile floor.  I jumped out of bed to see what had happened, thinking he knocked over a table, but I found him lying on the floor with a lot of blood behind his head. He was cold and clammy and unresponsive for about 30 seconds.  When he came to, he was disoriented and couldn't move because of dizziness.  I thought he had had a heart attack and started him on baby aspirin which I happened to have with me.  I reluctantly managed to get an ambulance, guessing how bad the hospital would be, but was afraid not to have him go in case there was a recurrence of whatever just happened.  

As bad as the hospital was in Guadeloupe - this one was far worse.  He ended up spending two days in the "Male Ward" a long hallway with spaces on one side for five men in each 'room' and open to an outside area.  No air con, no fan, no screens to keep out mosquitoes, no food, no bathroom ( just cups) - it looked like a bad WWII hospital  movie scene. It was so hot and humid. I don't know how he managed it - but he kept his sanity and quite a few of the staff said they enjoyed the " nice white missionary man" from the States.  

Getting discharged was another story as they only took cash for payment ( 4,000 Eastern Caribbean dollars in this case - about $1,500 US) which we didn't have on us.  No American Express or anything else accepted.  We managed to get it scraped together between the missionaries and the petty cash box and finally made it out.  The next day, we flew to Barbados ( this flight had been booked for some time as we were supposed to attend a Senior Missionaries Conference there) and President Herrington invited us to stay in the mission home on the island.  We were shocked to learn that we had to be sent home and released from our mission.  I guess I thought we would just get this taken care of in Barbados ( we did see a really good doctor there) and pop right back to continue on.  But LDS Church policy is that missionary health comes first.  So until we get this resolved, we can't finish our mission.  (It wasn't a heart attack but some other mild heart issue according to the cardiologist here in NC).  It was a rough week but we got through it with many  thanks to our mission president and his wife for all their help. Perhaps we will submit a request to complete our mission service, once everything is straightened out.  That would be one year. Oh, and we need to return to Guadeloupe to get our clothes and things. We left for home straight from St Vincent. Long day. 

So we are back home ( again).  After the surprise surgery last month and  now this, we are starting to wonder if we are  supposed to be on this mission right now.  There are so many times in life that one feels they are following the Lord's plan but  then everything goes wrong or at least different than expected.  ( i.e. - See all the missionaries' stories above.)  Why is that?  Well, I don't know - I just feel  that God knows and loves each one of us. That is my faith.  I recently recorded  this  story in my journal which has inspirational quotes on each page.  I felt like I received a little message of love when I read the quote on the page on which I concluded my entry. It is by the 19th century English theologian, Charles Spurgeon, " He who counts the stars and calls them by their names is in no danger of forgetting His own children.  He knows your case as thoroughly as if you were the only creature He ever made, or the only saint He ever loved."