Six Weeks
I had hoped my next entry would find me back in Mango, Togo — spinning the wheels of a bicycle along the dusty roads, visiting the young seamstress in her sewing hut, hurrying through the hospital wards to get patients their medications, cradling the premature babies, praying with the hurting, shadowing patient rounds with Todd, watching countless surgeries, bandaging up wounds, learning to further assess patients in the clinic, tripping home through the pitch-black nights at 7pm, and joining a family dinner table with endless laughter — talking about what God has done, smiling about what He continues to do, and being at peace with what is to come. And now, I have been brought back…though I am so so far away.
I remember my first day in Mango, Togo. I stood by the nursing stations, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, and tried to absorb what life would unravel during the following six weeks. On the far end of the station, he was poised by the counter in navy blue surgical scrubs, his black bag slung over his shoulder, and leaning his left arm on the flat surface while jotting down notes in a patient’s binder. He looked up for a moment and we introduced ourselves.
“I have to ask you,” Todd Dekryger said. “Where did your name come from?” The surgeon’s eyes were kind, and they had a certain twinkle that I would come to see rarely left him.
Eager to begin working, I had started shadowing around the wards before I was scheduled to work. I joined morning rounds at 7:30 AM, where he and the visiting surgeon would assess the patient’s progress. They asked them questions, scribbled changes on the clipboard, unraveled dressings, re-bandaged the wounds, and prayed for each individual. I whispered to Paige, asking whether she thought it would be alright if I stepped in on one of Todd’s surgeries. It would be fine, Todd had responded. That leg amputation was the first of many surgeries I would observe, and I was stuck with the difference being made by these staff. That day, I wrote:
I think of Todd, Jennifer, and the staff, who have given their livelihood to serve others. I remembered a young man I met earlier that day, his knee and thigh stabilized, following the surgery to repair his broken leg. Where would he have gone without the hospital, or people there to help? I wondered if he would have been crippled the rest of his life, or maybe not survived at all…It seems, there is much more to life than personal gain and comfort, rather a life poured out…is a life well lived.
One night after a service at the guest house, Todd had approached me…“Maranatha, you should come work with us in the clinic on your days off. I see a practitioner’s side to you.” Nobody had ever told me that. My curiosity was peaked. So I did.
By the second week, every free day I had, I joined him and Paige on patient rounds, in the Operating Room, and in the clinic. He never seemed to tire of my endless questions, and took time to explain the procedures he was doing. I learned about Polymyositis, a dreadful-looking infection that begins in the bones and soft tissues. I learned that children with worms, noted by a distended belly, were prescribed 10mg Melbendazole, twice a day for three days. I learned that NSAIDS (Non-Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory drugs) will raise the blood pressure about 10 mm HG, so patients with Hypertension receive Acetaminophen instead of Ibuprofen. He taught me the surgeon’s phrases: “The solution to pollution is dilution”, and “When in doubt, cut it out.”
“Did Maranatha see those X-rays?” he would ask. And he would retrieve the films for me to learn, pointing out the irregularities.
These became my favorite days.
Todd had a way of reaching people individually and personably. During the first week, I had received news that my best friend’s mom, back home in Montreal, was undergoing an emergency surgery. Overnight, it seemed she went from a healthy mother to having stage four cancer. Todd was among the first to approach me.
“I heard about your friend’s mom”, he had said. “If you have to go home at some point, we understand. If there is anything we can do, let us know.” During the next few weeks, he and Jenn often asked how she was doing.
It was no different for the people he treated in the clinic. One middle-aged, frail lady entered; her gaze was far-away, and the scan showed her abdomen filled with cancer. There was no treatment for her. Her prognosis was short. The gospel was a priority. Another man had a tumor the size of a basketball on his chest. After the surgery, Todd asked for privacy and stood by the patient’s bed, while he explained the brevity of life. I have no doubt this was a frequent occurrence. He prioritized people, sharing with them the love of Jesus Christ.
Even the toughest of patients cracked at his warm smile and good-humored nature. A bigger, stubborn woman who had hoisted herself to the center of the riots and broken her leg, eventually softened and complied with the surgeon’s instructions. Though there was sometimes little room to express thankfulness in a language, the patient’s faces said it all. I remember the look on one man after Todd agreed to perform surgery on his father. His weathered, dark face stretched to kingdom come as he smiled and nodded again and again. Through it all, Todd told me, “You can see why I love these people.”
When the riots came to Mango and victims filled the Emergency and Operating Rooms, I recorded the event. “I appreciate what you wrote” Todd said the following evening. “Especially that last line.” I went back and reread it: I would agree, that at the center of God’s purpose and will — it is the safest place to be.
December the 17th 2015, I spent my last day in Mango as one of my favorite days. I joined patient rounds, observed in the Operating Room, worked in the clinic, and after the sun had dipped under the horizon, I joined the Dekryger’s around their dinner table.
“You know why I like working with Maranatha?” Todd had said that evening. “Because she is always smiling…she laughs all the time.”
It was true. But it was because it was easy to see the underlying good, and find a joy and peace in everything when working alongside Todd. He lived through a Higher calling — a vessel daily pouring out His will and purpose. The joy was contagious.
Jenn had touched Todd’s hand and they both looked at me:
“Todd and I were talking…and we want you to know that we would love to have you back. Come for even a year, or two. Let us know if there is any way we can help…”
Todd told me he would be reference for any work or schooling I needed, encouraging me to go into nurse practitioning. When I returned, he wanted to teach me more regarding patient assessments and health histories in the clinic.
That night he left after dinner, needing to perform a biopsy on a young boy so the specimen could be taken back to the United States with us. Continually, tireless in doing the work that so needed to be done.
“I’ll see you later.” I had told him, after he delivered the specimen at my door. And he got on his red motorcycle and disappeared into the night.
My heart was full that evening as I lay in bed with my bags packed. I had found a couple, a family, who not only demonstrated the gospel in their daily lives, but had taken the time to welcome me in, opening their mission world to me:
Not once did I sense resentment, rather this was their work, their purpose…and therefore, their joy. He would give the strength they needed. I thank the Lord for examples who fully depend on His Person, for I do not believe each day would be possible without Him. “Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from Him. Truly He is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will not be shaken…you reward everyone according to what they have done.” Psalm 62:5,6, 12.
A week ago, I had been hoping for a monthly rotational job that would send me to nurse in Northern Canada. This would give me the opportunity to return to Togo. Monday, the initial application had returned, rejected. With artist Amanda Cook’s “Heroes” on loop, I sent the agency another email, and thought to ask Todd about a reference letter. I knew God had the best plan, and I could trust Him.
I will trust, here in the mystery. I will trust in You completely
Awake my soul to sing, with Your breath in me I will worship.
You taught my feet to dance upon disappointment. And I, I will worship
And that is when I first became aware.
“Pray for Todd DeKryger,” I read. He was hospitalized due to a “serious illness” — what they believed to be a combination of malaria and typhoid. I thought of the work he did…the lives that rebounded under his hands. What would they do without a surgeon for four days…
By Wednesday, February 23rd 2016, Todd’s health had plummeted. He was on IV medications to stabilize his blood pressure, and reports from individuals stated they were airlifting him to Germany the following day. Two nurses donated blood to him in the back of the ambulance, on the way to the airstrip. He was put on a ventilator and flown to Germany, Jenn at his side.
Friday, I awoke in the night. 3am. A sense of dread crept over me. I opened my phone, and read the words I never believed I would hear. A dam broke inside me, and tears streamed my face. I could hear Jenn’s voice from across the ocean:
Today, Jesus called Todd home from the work he was doing planting and harvesting in Togo. In the mystery of His will, God chose this day to reward Todd with the unequaled joy of heaven. This is the promise of God that we as believers cling to through tears and pain. Todd poured out his life as an offering to God in Togo. I know that Todd would similarly encourage us who remain here for a little while longer to also be faithful in our service to our King (Philippians 2:17)
And the gospel became a greater reality to me. “For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” Matthew 16:25 .When I had contemplated a life poured out to his will, I hadn’t contemplated a life sacrificed. Yet it was. A surgeon, an uncle, a brother, a son, a husband, a friend and a mentor — who at the age of 46, made a daily difference in giving back so many people’s lives — his own life given in exchange. And I knew there were no regrets. He was at the center of His will, ever still the safest place to be.
Jenn put is best:
“Even in my pain, I am confident that our sacrifice — that Todd’s sacrifice — was worth it. I believe that the great commission is a cause worth dying for. And in the midst of my grief, I fix my eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of my faith.”
I knew him for six weeks, but it didn’t take six weeks for me to be forever impacted by the incredibly personable, dedicated, encouraging, compassionate and Christ-focused surgeon, who gave himself to the mission field, laying down his own life for the sake of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It is a cause worth living for, and a cause worth dying for. Because of it, I can still smile. And because of it we can still say, “Todd, we will see you later.”
Please consider supporting the family in this incredibly difficult time:http://fhbcgr.org/news-and-updates/todd-dekryger/
A link to a video about the Hospital of Hope: https://vimeo.com/103400370
