DREAMS
A personal perspective on Adventist Health International

by

Faye Whiting, M.D.


   Once upon a time in a remote village hidden in the tangled jungles of Guyana an Amerindian chief had a dream. He dreamed of a man with a black book who would come to his village to teach truth. Soon his entire village was looking for the man with the black book. A missionary by the name of Davis heard of the dream and set out on foot through the "Green Hell" in search of this Amerindian tribe. On his second attempt he finally found the village and. a people ready to listen. He shared stories of the gospel from his black Bible and introduced his new friends to Jesus. Soon the entire village became Christians and called themselves the Davis Indians.

   I grew up on a hefty diet of mission stories like these. I feasted on the adventures of great missionaries, undaunted pioneers and intrepid explorers. These tales mingled with the tales of my own parents experiences as missionaries in Rwanda planted dream deep within my soul that began to mold all of my life decisions. First I just wanted to be a missionary and then a missionary doctor.

   At the close of my residency I began to realize that my dreams and reality seemed to have little in common. First of all TIMES HAVE CHANGED! Back in the days of the pioneers, medicine was simpler. Early missionary doctors practiced without antibiotics and dripped ether for surgery. They had few laboratory diagnostics and certainly little competition. Now we have genetic engineering, 3rd generation antibiotics, MRI and surgery through the laparoscope. Unfortunately advancing technology means advancing cost. Few mission hospitals have been able to keep up while facing shrinking budgets, political upheaval, and economic crisis. At one time our mission hospitals were the best and often the only available option for medical care in their regions. Now we have serious competition. With advances in communication the whole world can watch "ER" and "Chicago Hope". As a result patient expectations of care and medical awareness are at all time highs all over the world.

   As I looked at the complex challenges facing mission hospitals and the new demands they placed on missionary doctors 1 felt totally unprepared. Maybe I didn't have what it takes. With my comfortable lifestyle and specialized training I seemed to have little in common with the great missionaries of the past. Perhaps a dream is just a dream, never meant to come true. I immersed myself in the rewarding practice on the OB/GYN faculty at Loma Linda. After all, the USA is a mission field too.

   Then there was that phone from Dr. Hart in Feb. 97. "We're taking a team down to Guyana to evaluate a mission hospital in Georgetown and we need an OB/GYN on the team". Can you come with us?"

   "I don't know anything about running hospitals." I laughed. "Call someone with experience".

   "Well, how are you ever going to learn if you don't start somewhere?" he argued.

   He got me with that one. "Tell me one thing before we go, where in the world is Guyana?"

   At Davis Memorial Hospital (DMH) our team found a situation that could be a mirror of situations facing many of our mission hospitals. Guyana's economic crisis and political changes had severely impacted the hospital. Much of the equipment was outdated, broken or nonexistent. In its prime, DMH was considered the best hospital in Georgetown. But missionary doctors had come and gone and now there was only one left keeping the doors open. He was close to burnout. DMH desperately needed another doctor along with injections of technology, expertise and morale if it could expect to stay open. However when the hospital administrator introduced me as the next OB/GYN coining to DMH I bristled. No way! No one was going to trick me into coming to this far away place! I am no Albert Switzer!

   By this time I had another dream. His name was Steve Jensen. Steve had stealthily crept into my life over the last few months and was now a permanent fixture. He was generous and kind with an unexpected sense of humor that 'took me away from my intense medical world. I loved him. Yet Steve had no intention of living anywhere outside of the USA. To him roughing it was a night in Motel 6 and a visit to a 3rd world country was a summer vacation on grandfather's farm in Oklahoma. No my missionary dream would have to die. Steve would never come with me.

   While I was pondering my situation, a group at Loma Linda University chaired by Dr. Richard Hart had been developing a global plan to help bring mission hospitals out of crisis. Their dream was to create an international organization formally connecting all of the U.S. Adventist hospitals in support of their sister mission hospitals. In this plan Adventist hospitals In the US would share equipment and supplies along with expertise and human resources with Adventist hospitals in developing countries. In turn mission hospitals under the guidance of their new partners would reestablish their boards and develop better management systems. This new corporation would eventually be called Adventist Health International.

   "We'd like to have DMH be one of the first hospitals in this new corporation." Dr. Hart explained as we walked along the Georgetown sea wall.. "And we'd like to ask you to go to DMH to help get this started."

   What and exciting concept! I felt hope for mission hospitals. No longer would they be struggling alone out there but would be part of a bigger support network. I felt drawn to the idea. With this kind of help could I do it?

   "Lord, I'll go if you take care of Steve" I prayed. I felt pretty sure I'd he staying at Loma Linda. Steve would never let me go.

   "I think that you should go." Steve said softly.

   "What!" I gasped; this was not part of his script. "Well, you've always wanted to do it. You'll never be satisfied if you don't. Go and get it out of your system... They do fly planes down there don't they? I'll visit you."

   Steve brought me to Georgetown Guyana Oct. 27, 1997 during the Hindu celebration of Deepavali. The streets were crowded with people carrying candles and setting off firecrackers. The oppressive humidity, the cacophony of celebration, the turbulent streets jammed with people and cars, and the swarms of mosquitoes were a jolting welcome, So too was the fact that the surgeon that I thought I was joining left unexpectedly a few weeks before my arrival. Suddenly I was the only missionary doctor. Watching Steve leave at the airport was exceedingly difficult. I felt very much alone and scared to death.

   Those next few months seem like a bad dream now. AHI was only in its embryonic stage of development, my shipment of household items and new equipment had not yet arrived and I was struggling to be the doctor of everything from Pediatrics to Cardiology. Never mind that I was a trained OB/GYN. Whatever presented, I took care of. I spent a lot of time in the reference books and began to get used to treating a host of diseases from malaria to typhoid without the diagnostic equipment I was used to.

   December marked the Guyana national elections. Suddenly the country plunged into political strife. The parties were divided along racial lines and each side accused 'the other of foul play. Riots and looting broke out in town, fires were started and bombs were set off at public places. There were rumors of civil war. The last straw came when three men attempted to break into my house at 3 am. Thanks to the growls of my 3 month old Doberman puppy, Bear, I was able to call the hospital guards in time. However, I was alarmed to discover that the prowlers had already managed to remove the security bars from my living room window. I was lonely and afraid and I missed Steve horribly. E-mail just wasn't the same, especially with unreliable phone service. With AHI seemingly bogged down in committees I felt forgotten and unsupported. Clearly I had made a mistake. It was time to go home.

   I wrote a letter of resignation and headed to the hospital for my nightly appointment with the computer to send it over e-mail. Before sending off the letter I checked my messages, There on the screen was a letter from two doctors recruited by the AHI team. They said that if everything worked out they would join me at DMH. Suddenly I realized that I wasn't forgotten. with 3 doctors here we could really take off! I felt the enthusiasm returning. I didn't send my letter but I did buy a plane ticket to California for a week vacation.

   I am so thankful for a God who hears tearful prayers on sticky nights under mosquito nets and loves to make dreams come true! While I was struggling at DMH He was imperceptibly working on Steve's heart. In the middle of our week vacation Steve and I found ourselves sitting silently in a Laguna Beach cafe watching the torrential California rains of Feb. 1998. Mother nature was trying to wash away our beloved Laguna Beach and both of us were feeling as miserable as the weather anticipating my soon departure.

   "I suppose I could extend my vacation and we could get married" I spoke tentatively breaking the heavy silence.

   "OK lets do it!" Steve said grinning and suddenly excited.

   "Are you serious?" I said unbelievingly. Once again Steve wasn't following his script. We had been around and around this subject before.

   "Does this mean you're coming to Guyana with me?" I gasped.

   "Well if I can't talk you Into staying home I'm certainly not sending you back there alone!" he said with the brightest twinkle in his eye I'd ever seen. I was thrilled!

   We planned our Feb. 14 wedding in 8 days thanks to a dream team of good friends who did most of the work. After a whirlwind of packing and a quick honeymoon we managed to arrive back at DMH by March 2. Steve turned out to be better at adapting than either of us expected and soon he was actively involved in building DMH. We couldn't be happier. Since then things have really begun to take off. In March a general surgeon arrived from Argentina, In May the DMH board voted to join AHI, by July we had the support of the American Ambassador to Guyana in our fund raising project, in August we were back stratigizing in Dr. Hart's office with his AHI team and by September we were talking to international donor organizations.

   Although we are 'thousands of miles away it is wonderful to have a body of support in the USA providing guidance and expertise. It is wonderful to watch dreams come true for DMH, for me personally and potentially for other struggling mission hospitals. I am excited to be on the cutting edge of change and encouraged for the future of DMH under AHI-Guyana. Times have definitely changed but one thing remains constant and that is our ever-leading purpose to share the love of Christ with our neighbors through the healing ministry.

   The other day on rounds I was checking in on 7 year old Winston who was admitted to DMH during a bad asthma attack.

   "I'm going to be a pilot when I grow up." he informed me. Then sensing my doubt as I silently rehearsed all of the obstacles blocking a raise from poverty to pilot he pressed on emphatically. "Really, I AM going to be a pilot 'cause when you know Jesus your dreams really can come true!"

   Well Winston I couldn't agree more!