Dear friends,
An amazing story has been unfolding over the last three days and we need your immediate involvement in prayer.
Wednesday a team of us were in the northern Iraqi city of Kirkuk to meet American army cardiologist John Scott, who has been screening children in the region with heart defects. A two-day-old baby girl named Bayan was brought into the clinic while we there. Lt. Col Scott examined her with a backpack-sized sonogram unit that he had borrowed for the day from an army surgical unit. Even though the device is not designed for heart examinations, he was able to determine that Bayan had transposition of the great arteries.
Immediately I understood what type of an emergency we were facing. We have seen several of these cases previously with Palestinian children in the Gaza Strip. If they could be kept alive and brought to surgery in Israel during their first two weeks, these children could be given a normal life. But babies in Iraq have never had access to this kind of medical care. As I spoke with Lt. Col Scott, he began to weep as he described the impact of seeing these children left to die.
It took me several minutes of pacing the floor to face up to what we had to do. Heart centers in other countries were too far away and unwilling to take on complex cases. We had long-term hopes of bringing Iraqi children to Israel for heart surgeries, but could anything be done now? It seemed impossible to think that Bayan could get out of Iraq in time. But here we were, with Jesus' words once again calling to us: don't pass by on the other side.
We went home with Bayan's family that night, in a humble Kurdish town. Long hours of conversation followed, as more and more members of the clan streamed into the home. None objected to the thought of taking the baby to Israel for surgery (many Jews lived with the Kurds before going to Israel, and there is a history of friendly relations between the peoples). Rather the great concern was whether community standards would allow for the mother to travel out of the country by herself. I told them that the father could not come, as other countries likely would not allow an Iraqi male to cross their borders for fear that he would stay and work. The consensus finally came down that it was impossible for the mother to travel without a male family member, and that the child would better be left untreated.
At this point I relented and agreed that we would have to try to take the father, even though it could imperil our mission.
Pediatric nurse Angela Rickards and I stayed with the family until sunrise, when we left with father, mother, and baby for Baghdad. A cardiologist we're working with there confirmed the diagnosis with a proper echocardiogram, and referred us to another heart center for an emergency catheterization, which would open a hole between the chambers of Bayan's heart to allow oxygen into her bloodstream and stabilize her condition. By now it was Thursday afternoon, and the hospital was closing down for the weekend. Here the small miracles started to happen. A cardiologist agreed to call in the whole 7-8 person team to do the procedure on Friday, the day of prayer. This just doesn't happen! Then Angela returned from the Iraqi Interior Ministry, with freshly-issued travel documents in hand for the father, mother, and baby. This also doesn't happen. Within minutes the phone rang, with confirmation from the hospital in Israel that they were willing to accept Bayan for surgery. More phone calls followed. A humanitarian group called Air Serv which runs flights from Baghdad to Amman agreed to put on a special medical evacuation flight for Bayan Friday afternoon, provided we could leave Iraqi airspace by nightfall. Still we had no transit visas for Bayan and parents to enter Jordan, normally a lengthy and complicated procedure. Air Serv went straight to the immigration officials at the airport in Amman and secured highly-unusual permission for them to enter the country.
Friday morning dawned. The hospital was having trouble finding an anesthesiologist, and the Iraqi cardiologist began to suggest that Bayan travel without the catheterization. The Israeli cardiologist, however, had told me that Bayan could not travel without it. The only way to resolve the impasse would be for the two doctors to speak together. Could it be? Our mobile phone in Baghdad could not call out of the country. But I could reach an American army major, who called Israel, and eventually the cardiologist there called me. What a sight to see the Iraqi and Israeli doctors having a friendly conversation together about how to save Bayan. I couldn't have dreamed of it.
The catheterization was done, and Bayan's oxygen saturation immediately increased. Three hours later we were boarding the aircraft for Amman.
I'm writing now from our apartment in Amman. We're sitting on the floor mat about to share the evening meal together: father, mother, Bayan, Angela, our Amman volunteer Mona, and myself. Bayan is looking pink and content. Tomorrow morning we will approach the Israeli embassy to seek to overcome the last big hurdle: visas to enter Israel. They have rarely if ever before been given to Iraqis. Here we need your prayer.
Let me be clear about one thing. What is happening now is something we never planned or even hoped for. We're just watching with awe what it seems the Lord is doing. All he asks from us is the faith and courage to believe he can do it.
Yours for Jesus' sake,
Jonathan Miles
Coordinator
Shevet Achim
"Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together
in unity" (Psalm 133:1)
www.shevet.org
