Monday morning at 7, Nestor knocked at our gate. Twenty-one-year-old Nestor is the older brother of one of our church members. Cesar, a friend of ours, studied the Bible with him a couple years ago. “Mama is really sick, and I have no money. The place where Papa works won’t let him take an advance, and Papa doesn’t understand the seriousness of the situation. Can you help us?” I agreed and told him I would meet him and his mother at the hospital in an hour.

The hospital is a great place to talk since you usually have to wait a long time to see a doctor, and there is nothing else to do. As we talked, Nestor asked many questions and told me some of his heartfelt problems. I felt impressed to challenge him to take God seriously. When he had studied with Cesar, he had thought it was all a game, but now he had a new earnestness.

Our wait to see the doctor was a long one. We had been waiting 90 minutes before the doctor arrived at the hospital. Since we had been transferred from another hospital and didn’t have a number, everyone else in the waiting room was ahead of us. Finally at 10 a.m., another lady kindly let Mama Nestor go before her. The doctor examined Mama Nestor and ordered some lab tests and an ECG.

The next morning, we were back waiting at the lab and had another couple of hours to chat—this time on the state of the dead. The lab told us there was still one test they couldn’t do because they didn’t have the chemicals for it. We went back to the doctor, and he said he was going to hospitalize Mama Nestor and recommend a hysterectomy. I helped make sure Mama Nestor knew what was happening and explained a few things. Then the doctor and the anesthesiologist said it was going to cost a lot of money—80,000 CFA (US$158). I only had 60,000 CFA with me at that point, so said I would bring the rest that evening, and the doctor gave me a receipt for 80,000.

The next morning as Nestor and I were talking, Mama Nestor left. We thought she had gone to the bathroom. When she didn’t return, I asked the sage femme (midwife) if they had taken her into surgery already. She said they had. Nestor and I prayed for Mama Nestor, and then he left the Hospital for a while.

I was sitting on Mama Nestor’s bed when Papa Nestor and their ten-year-old daughter came in. He had been away working, so he didn’t know Mama Nestor was having her surgery that morning. When he saw the empty bed, he thought his wife had died, and he started to cry and cry. I realized his error, but since he doesn’t speak French, I couldn’t reassure him that his wife was still alive. I quickly asked his daughter whether she spoke French. She did and was able to translate my words of reassurance to her father. Still unsure, Papa Nestor went to find the sage femme, and she told him the same thing. He was extremely relieved.

Finally, Mama Nestor came out of surgery. The sage femme left it up to Papa Nestor and me to move Mama Nestor from the gurney to the bed. Papa is a very small man but strong. I lifted Mama Nestor’s feet and legs, and Papa Nestor lifted her upper body, and we got her onto the bed—backwards, as it turned out, but such is life.

Nestor returned, and he and his father prepared to take care of Mama. Since there are so few nurses in hospitals here, family members take care of the patients. They must find and purchase all needed medicines and supplies. After gathering supplies, medicines, etc. for Mama Nestor, I left.

I spent the next several days studying the Bible with Nestor, finding medicine for Mama Nestor, and waiting for and talking with doctors. There was some confusion about changing Mama Nestor’s bandages and cleaning her wounds. On Tuesday, I finally hunted down the doctor and asked him who was supposed to do the wound care. The doctor told the nurse to do it and change the bandages.

On Wednesday, they found infection, and on Thursday the doctor found major infection and decided that amoxicillin wasn’t sufficient. He prescribed a very strong and expensive antibiotic. It is normally about US$20 a gram, and we needed two grams a day for three to six days. Do the math—lots of money. We looked in vain for the medicine in all the pharmacies. We even went out to the little clinic where I went for my stomach problems, but they didn’t have it either. I finally went to the nurse’s house to see if she had any of this medicine. She had three boxes, which she sold to us for the typical price of one box. We had to get the rest at the hospital for 8,000 CFA (US$15.80) per box. On Sunday, I talked to the doctor and told him we needed something cheaper because my money was running out. He prescribed something else.

I had to leave for several days after that to give some health talks, but when I returned, Mama Nestor was over her infection. After three weeks in the hospital, she was able to return home.

Out of this difficulty, God has glorified His name. Mama Nestor now knows He is a living God who cares for her. During those three weeks in the hospital, Nestor was very diligent in studying the Bible. He has come to understand that God is real and loves him and that it isn’t too late to turn to Him. He has made the decision to follow Him. Please pray for Nestor, his mother, and their family that they might all turn completely to the Lord.

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