from the page of a journal...

We sit now on the plane, watching as it pulls away from the island that has been our home for the past seven days. I look back and wonder at the differences, the similarities...

So many faces, so many thoughts and feelings etched upon my heart this week, as I see those who bring tears to eyes so tired...

I see the woman with the unresectable cancer, grabbing Jeanne's hand and kissing it as she said "Merci" -- I see the face of the amputee, now smiling, once gray with the sepsis that destroyed his leg -- I see the man with the intusuception, the tiny woman with the massive breast cancer, the girl with the pelvic abcess... I see these faces, their eyes staring into mine, and I remember...

I remember the heat, unbearable, as the day whitened with the sun, sweat dripping down my mask...the feeling of fatigue so great I could hardly think... the knowledge that there was more work to do... the newborn child, his arm black, lifeless, bone exposed... reaching inside and turning off my heart as my hand completed the amputation... The preacher struggling for breath as he slowly drowned in his failing heart... walking beyond our ability to help-- Siggy working so hard, trying so hard...

The music, rising from the dawn as nurses sang, the sounds of their voices raised to God with joy and wonder... the pastor speaking words that danced across my mind, translated into English as the cadence spoke of that which we all believe, deep in our heart, for we are all God's children.

I look back over the week, and think of the lessons... of that which we have learned, of that which, perhaps in a small way, we have taught... this is an important continuation of what we must do on these our medical missions.

But I think more, this trip, is spoken that that which has passed before. There were so many reasons not to go... so many times it would have been so easy to say "No, not now."
The moratorium on the village.
The lack of need at the village.
The College meeting running into this.
And then
September 11.
September 11, 2001...
a day that will forever remain burned into our hearts...
a day when evil lifted its head, spewing searing pain and tragedy in its midst-- forever changing us, forever changing the world as we know it... filling each moment of our lives as the horror was replayed again, and again, and again... in our minds, our hearts... everywhere we turned.
Anger.
Hatred.
Pain.
Rage.
Deep unmovable sadness.
Fear.
Nightmares, unending.
Horror.
Story after story of pain, of incredible grief.

Please don't go.
It is not safe.
You are being irrational.
Think of your children.
Are you putting others in danger for your own personal passion?
Please stay.
You can't go.
You mustn't go.
I cannot go.

So many reasons to stay home.

But we came.
Each of us, putting aside those thoughts as we stepped out of our world into another... putting aside the fear, the anger, the hurt... moving to tomorrow as life must continue.
We came.
I believe now that part of the reason we have been here is not only to do what we have done... but also to say to others---
We must not fear.
We must not hold ourselves close, isolating us from the reality of the world and this life we are a part of...
We must do that which is God's work, to say to others that we care, we love, we touch, we are as one people, one pain, one joy, one hope...
Perhaps by coming others will be freed to step outside their hearts, and find that which lies deep within.

And so, as I look over the week, and all that it has given,
and I see the faces of those whom I have come to love so dearly,
I know that we, as one family, have walked outside our restraints, to see beyond the edges of our world.

Seen through a different angle, the glass continues to turn,
And we are opened again to what we must become...

Merci.

Sylvia D. Campbell, MD
October 5, 2001