Speaking without a Voice

When people go in for head and neck surgery, for any number of reasons, it is often necessary for them to have a feeding tube.  It is placed in their nose, goes down through their esophagus, and into their stomach.  This... for those that are unfamiliar... is an NG tube (a naso-gastric tube). Here on the Africa Mercy, the NG tubes are often placed in surgery, and are meant to stay in place for 7-10 days after surgery.  They serve a couple of purposes.  For one, it provides a way for the patient to receive adequate nutrition by allowing us to "feed" them through it for that week post-op.  Second, it serves to protect any delicate suture lines that could potentially be damaged or infected by the person eating right away after their procedure.  

So, why am I telling you this?  Because this little tube means quite a bit to me as a nurse.

And the other day, one got clogged.

Enter Dennis:  a dear patient who had just recently had extensive surgery to his neck.  As a result of his surgery, he would no longer be able to speak (this was known), but he would have a much greater chance of living.   

He was only a couple of days out from his surgery when I cared for him, and came on shift to receive the report that his NG tube was clogged.  Hopeful, I entered the shift with great ambition to use whatever nursing tricks I had in my bag to attempt to unclog the tube.  Eight hours later, I was nearly brought to tears in utter frustration.  The tube was not to be unclogged, the patient was hungry, I had lost any sense of humor regarding the situation (doctors beware... :)).  

So, the verdict was in. Dennis would have to fast for several days.  The tube could not be replaced at the risk of damaging suture lines, and he could not eat normally for the same reason.  So we would give him IV fluids and keep a close watch on his electrolyte balances.  

Now, really, none of this is the important part of the story.  But perhaps it is what made my heart go out to this patient initially, and then, in the days to come, I paid a little bit closer attention to this man and the very small glimpse I had into his life.  A few days without food was really the least of Dennis's "problems".  He could now no longer speak as a result of his illness and the necessary surgery to help increase the chances of his survival.  In a few days Dennis would be able to eat.  But he would still not have a voice.  

At least not an audible one.  

But as I watched Dennis, I saw him interacting with other patients.  He was always looking out for them.  If I couldn't understand what one was trying to say to me, I would follow their pleading gaze, as they looked across the way to Dennis.  He would listen, and then write something on his pad of paper.  He would show it to me, and enlighten me on what they were trying to say.  Other times, I would respond to a loud "tap, tap, tap" ...I would look over to where Dennis sat, banging on the bed frame to get my attention.  He then would point to a patient who needed some help.  

The patient who didn't have a voice, perhaps spoke louder to my spirit than any of the others that week.  They say that when one of your senses is taken from you, be it sight, or hearing, then your other senses must become more attuned in order to compensate for that loss.  I saw this with Dennis and his voice.  He could see.  And he could hear.  And that week, what struck me the most, was that he could speak.  Not audibly, and perhaps that is what made it more poignant.  He spoke though his actions, through his writing, through the patience and compassion that were evident on his face.  Through his concern for the others that seemed to be above and beyond concern he had for himself.  

I was reminded again in this situation of a God whose ways are different from our ways.  What we see as a loss or a weakness or struggle in ourselves, is often a crack through which others can get a glimpse of something greater... of Someone greater.  Second Corinthians 4 speaks to this:  "Now we have this treasure in clay jars, so that this extraordinary power may be from God and not from us.... We always carry the death of Jesus in our body, so that Jesus' life may also be revealed in our mortal flesh."  And again in chapter 12, where Christ speaks to Paul, and says,  "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is perfected in weakness."  Paul responds  by writing, "Therefore, I will most gladly boast all the more about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may reside in me.  So because of Christ, I am pleased in weaknesses... for when I am weak, then I am strong."  

As I look back on this week, I am thankful for the picture of Christ that I was able to see in one man.  I will not forget the man without a voice who spoke to me of God's power perfected in weakness.