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A letter from Martha Sommers in Malawi |
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April 2003
Dear Family and Friends:
My dad died December 17, after living exactly one year from diagnosis
of liver cancer. The last few months he was mainly confined to
a chair. The time was difficult, yet gave him time to express
his faith and love through writing, conversations by phone and
in person, and embraces. Following is a quote of my Dad’s
my brother read at his funeral:
Only in God’s magnificent order can it be that our lives,
barely microscopic specks in the Universe, can be immensely
meaningful, bearing eternal implications. Only in God’s
world can it be that our time here, less than a split-second
on the eternal time clock, may garner every individual an eternal
destiny. It may be that our deeds, mighty, or seemingly insignificent,
may have a rippling effect for centuries to come.
My mom died February 20. She suffered from Parkinson’s
disease for 6+ years.This last year the disease progressed relentlessly
as she battled back after a heart attack, pneumonia, and through
grief. She had constant pain, was unable to hold her head up or
adjust herself, or efficiently swallow for the last months. Despite
the disease robbing her of her voice, and giving her what we medically
term “mask facies,” she still managed to express her
love for each of us to the end. I was at home for my Dad’s
death and funeral, but in Malawi for my Mom’s. She seemed
to stabilize more than a week before my return, but my sister
called me to tell me my Mom was in comatose/semicomatose less
than two weeks after my return to Malawi. Thankfully, I have a
phone in my house, and was able to speak to my Mom by phone, and
with my family during this difficult time |
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My
parents, Joseph and Joan Sommers, in April 2002. |
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I was able to live most of the last year with
my parents, having been in their home for 10 of the last 14 months.
First as a primary caretaker. Then, after hitting exhaustion and
having abnormal lymphocytes that had to be further investigated,
as a daughter also struggling with health. My siblings and their
families along with hired caregivers who became extended family
and friends took over the increasing needs of both my parents. When
my health problems cleared, I rejoined the team of caregivers. |
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The outpouring of support in the
States and in Malawi has been staggering. Mentioning all of the
angels of comfort in the form of everyday saints would fill a book.
A few examples: Their doctor being a friend of mine from medical
school who regularly made home visits with her young daughter on
her day off, and spent time rocking one of their grandchildren on
a hectic day in the house. The folks at the local bank, stores,
and library who went the extra mile so my parents could continue
their activities, and who checked with me and other family in town
on my parents’ progress. Marcie, who works at the local post
office, who cried with joy when my Dad called asking for a zip code.
One of my supporting congregations who regularly checked in for
specific prayer requests, and sent unexpected cards and flowers.
The 100% support of PC(USA)’s headquarters, and the synod
and hospital here, and my colleagues who worked harder in my absence
from here. The continuing condoling I am receiving and the days
of vigil by defined groups, families, and individuals after I found
out my Mom had died. |
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Despite being 40 years old, I “joke”
that I somewhat feel like an orphan. “Joke” because
Malawi unfortunately is a land of orphans, especially AIDS orphans.
My friend, Mpatso, who was staying the first few nights with me
after my Mom died, learned that the nephew who she cares for, Blessings,
lost his father. Blessings’ mother died before he was one
year old. Now that he is 5 years old, his father died. I drove Blessings,
Mpatso, her mother, and a few relatives as they took him, hair shaven,
to his father’s village and grave. He was at first reserved
then cowering as relatives who did not know him well didn’t
realize he understood the first time, told him at least 5 different
ways that his father was dead. No one was trying to be cruel, but
the customs do not seem to have adjusted to the young age of the
mourners. A day neither Blessings, Mpatso, nor myself are soon to
forget. |
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Blessings with his cousin Ellen. |
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Even though Blessings has had
too much tragedy for his years, he is at home with his aunt and
cousin, Ellen, who Mpatso also cares for. He is back to smiling
and running about, and cuddling. They struggle, but because Mpatso
works as a nurse-tutor at Ekwendeni’s nursing school and
is therefore a relative who has means to provide for them, they
qualify for Ekwendeni’s programs that provide some food,
school fees, clothes, and training for orphans.
The needs are staggering, and thankfully some things are improving:
- The famine relief efforts have been mainly successful. There
are still pockets of hunger and many people are without food
for days or eat very little, but so much better than last year.
- Through donations and programs, we are now more effectively
able to address the complications of AIDS, which claims most
of our adult inpatients. The medicines that are now available
are fluconazole to control cryptococcal meningitis and widespread
candida infections, and oral morphine and the equivalent of
tylenol with codeine to help with pain control. These changes
are major in advancing home-based care and decreasing despair.
We are not yet able to obtain anti-retrovirals, which have made
AIDS a chronic treatable disease in the States, but the selection
of Malawi for monies from the Global Fund might make such treatment
possible for some.
Keep up the prayers. I pray in thanksgiving for you all.
Love,
Martha
The 2003 Mission Yearbook for Prayer and Study, p. 48
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