from the hospital bed...

I WROTE THIS A FEW DAYS AGO BUT WASN'T ABLE TO PUT IT UP SO HERE YA GO-- THE FULL STORY

So for those of you who haven’t heard the story, here goes. ..

Wednesday was our last day in Serampore (a village about 2 hours outside of Kolkata). We had planned on leaving around 4 or 5, but when we went over to the school with intentions of staying all day, they informed us that we had to leave within 15 minutes. There were 2 kids that needed to go to the hospital, and they needed us to escort them. It was so frustrating to have to leave so soon without the chance to say a proper goodbye. But now in retrospect, I see the Lord’s plan in it all.

As a side story, on the way to Kolkata both kids (that were sitting on either side of me) threw up. They are not used to riding in cars, so they got really sick. The little boy starting gagging, so I picked him up to put him at the window and he threw up into the wind, getting it all over me. The amazing thing is that I didn’t gag and I didn’t try to get it off right away. I was more concerned for him and his sister (who was now hanging out of the window) then the throw up covering my arm and shirt. I got a rag to wipe off his face and he threw up into the rag and all over my hand. I gave them both water and sanitizer and Danielle and I tried hard not to show them how hard we were laughing. I made them both lay down on my lap and they were fine the rest of the way. I felt so bad for those little guys.

Anyway. We got to Kolkata and did our running around at the hospital, and took the kids and another family to McDonald’s. We went to the mall, ran some errands and then got in a taxi to go to the pastor’s house for Bible study. We were right around the corner when I got the sharpest, most intense stomach pain I’ve ever had. I grabbed Danielle’s leg and moaned and groaned. I moaned all the way to the elevator, all the way to the pastor’s door. The pastor’s wife gave me some lime juice, but it just wasn’t helping. I went and laid down in one of her bedrooms with the hopes that I could just cry it out and let whatever it was pass. I’d originally thought that it was my ovarian cists… but the pain was so much more than that. (this is around the time that we were supposed to be leaving serampore for the 2 hour drive to the hospital) I lay on the bed writhing in pain, then somehow ended up kneeling by the side of the bed, crying in hysterics. I tried to stand up and got really dizzy and fell. My body was shaking and I had that pins and needles (kind of like when your foot falls asleep) all over my body. I was terrified. I went to the bathroom just hoping that I would pass whatever it was. I won’t go into dirty details, but let’s just say that I threw up…out of my butt. When I went to flush I saw a little blood and got really scared. My stomach was still cramping really bad. I went to the sink to put cold water on my face and saw in the mirror that I had broken out in terrible hives. This has never happened to me before so naturally, I was so scared. I started crying uncontrollably and got Danielle and said we needed to go to the hospital. The Bible study group stopped their worship songs to pray for me and then one of the guys there said he would drive us. A woman who I had yet to meet came along and she ended up being my own personal angel.

Danielle called the hospital CEO’s wife and within the 10 minutes it took for us to get to the hospital, she had called in 6 additional doctor’s and specialists to check me out. It was overwhelming to be laying on a gurney with 6 face’s I’ve never seen looking at me and 12 hands poking me and pushing me and asking me questions and speaking to each other things that I couldn’t understand. I started cramping really bad again and thought that I might need the bathroom. They put me in a wheelchair and rushed me to the elevator and then on to my room. (I have to say that was really fun!) It was a false alarm though because I still have yet to poo. Which is not good-so pray for me. When I got to my room and they gave me my hospital garbs, I just had to laugh. Pink. Pink everywhere! I was like, “this is worse than the cramps, get me green!” “Oh no mam. You have to be a doctor to wear green.”

So my personal angel (Joti) and Dr. Gosh held my hand and put an arm around me while they put the IV into my hand. Dr. Gosh was so sweet trying to distract me. “What country are you from? Say. Oh, I have a sister in New York. Do you watch the Yankees? How many meters of snow do you have there? Say.” I was like, “STOP TRYING TO DISTRACT ME!” And as the nurse (who ended up being my favorite one) was injecting ACID into my veins, the doctor says, “thank sister for giving you injection.” I was like, “No way. I’m not grateful right now.” He said, “Thank sister. She is helping you.” I said, “Ok. Thank you sister enemy even though I don’t like you right now.” They all laughed and then I felt good. Drugs are nice….

So that’s basically the story. The hours that have followed are filled with painful antibiotics that make me scream and cry with every injection. Thankfully, they gave me a break and let me sleep last night without IV interruptions. I was so grateful for that because the constant pumping into my veins is so extremely painful. Unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. As far as my condition goes, it’s officially Colitis, but they are not sure as to the cause yet. They’re waiting for me to poop which is proving to be very difficult. In the meantime, I am weak and nauseous but I’ll take that over the pain any day. Even the injections are better than the pain. Oh AND I had my first butt shot. There’s a video of that. Not sure if I’ll put it up yet. Hahaha.

Being in the hospital for my last few days here was definitely not in my agenda. I haven’t been through much suffering in my life, so this has been the most difficult thing I’ve ever experienced. Being so helpless, so weak, in so much pain, having to depend on other people (most who don’t speak my language) is the toughest thing I’ve ever had to endure. It may not seem like much to you, and maybe if I was in the states, it would be easier to deal with, but being in a foreign country and being admitted into the hospital for the first time, and having uncontrollable pain is miserable. I’m so fortunate to have my cousin here with me by my side. I honestly don’t know what I would do if she weren’t here. Her presence definitely eases the stress off my family and off of me—and she definitely makes me laugh a lot more than I probably should, given the circumstances. I know that God is watching over me and protecting me and taking good care of me. I’m trying not to feel sorry for myself. It’s easy to ask “why me? what did I do wrong?” But I know that he is good and that he always has a plan. I trust him completely, no matter what. It sucks, but He’s so good.

And that is the God-honest truth.

that's the painful antibiotic/multi-vitamin.

iv's SUCK!

the injection ritual. pillow over face, screaming, crying, yelling...

-does it hurt here? -yes. OW. -here? -YES! YES!! GAAAHH! YEESS!!!"

chanda's perspective.

these pictures were taken by chanda-- thara's older sister. i can NOT believe how amazing she is-given the fact that she's never used a camera before and was somehow able to figure out how to hold the camera, change perspectives, zoom, with very little instruction. VERY little. such a smart and talented little girl.

i love the contrast of the beautiful sarees and the cow patties.

so beautiful.

through the eyes of a child.

here is malima montessori school as seen through thara's (an 8 year old student) eyes...

that's thara in the middle

the perspective of a child is amazing to me. it makes me want to teach a photography course when i get home.

it's easy to forget.

"whoever closes their eyes on the poor will lack nothing. but a curse will come upon those who close their eyes to poverty." proverbs 28:27

When people go on missions trips, they usually come back after their week in a impoverished country and quickly forget the things they saw and experienced. A week is simply not enough time to make an imprint on your mind that will last. It's just too easy to get back into the swing of the American life. Buying and buying, busy and busy... never stopping to notice the less fortunate in our own community. Forgetting the less fortunate we came in contact with on our missions trip and remembering only the souvenirs.

God, don't let me forget.

These faces... these children ... the absolute immediate need. The ability we have to help.

It can be so overwhelming to see so much need. At first, I felt so helpless. What can I, Kristen LaValley of Jamestown, New York do? How could I change anything? How could I help all these people? But I don't have to change the world. I don't have to change anything. I just have to be obedient and serve. I have to be humble and unselfish and sacrificial. God holds the world in his hands and I will trust that whatever small task he assigns me to is somehow detrimental to his overall plan for salvation and furthering his kingdom. I will simply obey.

I won't simply MAKE a difference, I'll BE the difference.

(how's that for a slogan, eh?)

And that's what's on my mind this morning as I brainstorm in prayer about what my work will be after I leave this beautiful country.

God is good. All the time.

And I really believe that.

my friend at the school.

street kids

i just think she is beautiful

there's just something about that name.

today we are in serampore.

it's awesome to breathe again! calcutta is so smoggy. every day i have to clean out my ears and nose because of all the black junk inside! it's gross. but now that we're in serampore, i can see the sky again and actually breathe! i saw the sun for the first time in months. (jamestown doesn't get much sun either) it was beautiful. we went on the roof of the hope house and played hopscotch with some of the girls from the montessori school and were of course ridiculed. :) apparently hopscotch requires much coordination.

it's amazing to see the interactions and entertainment that the kids have here. they don't have t.v. or videogames, or malls, or bowling alleys or anything that we're so used to at home. they entertain themselves with rocks and made up games. their relationships are close. every one is family. i'm going to miss that a lot when i get back to the states. i'm also going to miss being the center of attention every where i go because i'm so pale. danielle's white too but i stand out so much more than her. i have to fight the urge to princess diana wave at all of our admirers. that would be inappropriate. although, i did do that when we were riding on the motorcycle a few days ago.

i'm going to miss these people so much. i have never met kinder people.

i will also miss their head bobbing. :)

and some days you question

Sorry it's been a few days since my last post..

The same day I posted last we went to the pediatric ward and met this adorable and very sick baby, Dupita. She was so tiny and fragile. I felt like I was going to break her. The woman that was with her had brought her from Mother Theresa's orphanage where the kids are not treated well at all. The baby was obviously malnourished and severely weak. Danielle and I couldn't leave her. My heart broke. Absolutely shattered. We asked the woman if she would be adopted and she shook her head in a matter of fact way like there was no way this baby would ever know the love of a mother and father. If I could, I would take her home with me with not even a second thought. She will die here, most likely before her first birthday. These are the things that make me question God's justice. If you come here and DON'T question who God is and why he does what he does and doesn't do what you think he should be doing, then you are not normal. Where is the justice? Where is grace and mercy? Where is love?

I have to trust that God is really good. He is truly righteous and he sits on his throne with his sceptor of truth, reigning as King. When I walk these streets and see young boys working like grown men, and young girls put up for sale by their fathers and babies abandoned and dying..... it's hard to fit my perception of God into that ugly picture. The God that I worship is good. He cares for the weak and the dying. He heals and binds up. It's hard to fit him into this city of death, destruction, hate and sorrow.

I love him and I trust him.

We only see in part. I don't see his goodness and justice, but I know it's there. I'll continue to seek him and to seek to see the good that I know is present. I know that he is alive and working through his people to help a nation that has so clearly forsaken him.

It's not easy, but he never said it would be.

Dupita

today was a rough day.

Danielle and I went into a very poor part of the city this morning. It was overwhelming. There are no words to describe what we saw and smelled and felt. We didn't say much as we walked down the street. We passed by Mother Theresa's Home for the Sick & Dying where there were people laying outside of it just waiting for a bed. We passed by a woman who wanted me to take a picture of her baby who was so obviously unwell. The baby's hair was falling out and she had sores all over her skin. So beautiful, yet so sad.

I know we Americans tend to think that everyone in every culture that's not as advanced as ours needs to be rescued from their decrepit ways. I don't adhere to that philosophy at all, I appreciate other cultures and think they're beautiful. But when I see children drugged on their mothers' shoulder or babies that look like they're slowly walking towards death or children sleeping on cold concrete in the middle of a sidewalk....I just want to wrap them up my arms and take them home with me where they can be healthy, loved and run and play like children should. But who am I to save the world?

We walked down the street, talking to a few women and children, and the weight of the enemy was so unbearably heavy. I'm not one to talk like that and attribute every uncomfortable feeling to the devil, but this was something I've never experienced before. We walked to a temple where they worship the goddess of death and destruction and went in for a second before getting too freaked out to go any further. There are just no words to describe what we experienced.

If I could, I would be coming home with a few babies...maybe a few puppies too. It's such a humbling experience, being here. There's such a huge need. And I'm just one person. A photographer, at that. What can one 23 year old photographer do?

There is hope. His name is Jesus Christ and His spirit is present in active in this city.

True story.