good, good day

At handover this morning, instead of a Bible verse, we settled for misquoting the Black Eyed Peas. I've got a feeling, that today's gonna be a good day. That today's gonna be a good, good day. Personally, I wasn't feeling particularly hopeful, having been up since before five and feeling more than a little ill. Right now, it's hard for me not to worry at any signs of sickness, because my Hepatitis B test has come back positive again. For those of you who don't know, I contracted Hep B back in Liberia after a needlestick injury on my second day of work on the wards. Subsequent tests looked like everything had been cleared from my system, but when I went to be a blood donor again this year, the test came back positive. Right now there's nothing to do but wait; I won't be back to the first world before Christmas, so unless there's a local lab that can run further tests, we'll watch my liver and hold on for December.

All that to say that any kind of flu-like symptoms make me feel the slightest hint of panic, since having The Hep in 2008 felt like having a flu that lasted for several long months at a time. It wasn't fun, and I'm not really hoping to go through that again. Today, I felt, was not really going to be such a great day.

Will it surprise you to hear that, just like so many times before, I was wrong?

Maurius came home to B Ward today. Ever since his surgery, he's been in the ICU, going through procedure after procedure. Twice they tried to remove his trach and have him breathe on his own. Twice he failed, one of those times miserably. He's had special IVs and feeding problems and so many struggles. But today, all that was taken away, the hole in his neck closed for good. Today, he came back to us, to the little corner bed where Chantal has been sleeping every night, waiting for him.

They came into the ward like a parade, Chantal carrying Maurius, Natalie (his nurse) carrying the feeding pump. And as soon as they walked through the door the place erupted into cheers and clappings and spontaneous songs of worship. Our baby had come home, and everyone in that place knew that a great victory had been won. Even Lovelace, who we don't think will live to see her own healing on this earth, grinned up at her papa, clapping her hands at the joy all around her, celebrating for another little one who has been given back life.

Chantal headed for her little bed in the corner, Maurius like a prayer in her outstretched hands. She knelt as the tears ran down our faces, singing in a voice shaking with joy, singing praises to Mawu who has done this great thing for her son.

A little boy came home today. It was a good, good day.