“Doc”

By Pastor Steve Nute

 

The fever-ridden, sweat-soaked body of the uncomplaining child left a wet print on the cement floor where she waited with her mother and other family members. The waiting periods were long and often produced no visit to the doctor that day. I wondered how many of us would walk those distances and wait those lengths of time to see the doctor.

Beginning on Monday morning February fourth, Doc held clinic at the headquarters on International Bible Academy of Holy Ghost Ministries. He was greatly aided by local Christian nurses who sacrificially gave of their time and resources to help.

It would have been easy for Doc to have made a name for himself by simply dispensing drugs. Everyone who came wanted to leave with “something.” It did not take seem to matter if that something would help them or not. But Doc, exhibiting his usual high degree of personal integrity, risked present ire to comply with his moral conscience.

I would preach and counsel as the people waited to see the “Doktor”; waited for this wonder worker, this miracle man, to cure their diseases.

Poor Doc, he was asked to cure blindness, lameness and even the greatest killer of all, old age. “Doktor,” the old women would begin, “I have tiredness and internal heats.”

“How old are you?”

“50, I think,” stated the obviously 75 year old woman. There was no way to measure time when she was born and so she just picked an age out of the air.

“Doktor, I have pains here,” she’d say while pointing toward knees or a back that had borne 75 years of hard labor. “Please make me all better.”

Doc has an obvious soft spot for the old and the young, both extremes were also the most needy medically. But what can you do the easy the wear and tear of a lifetime of strenuous work on a body that needs what it will never get this side of heaven, rest.

If Doc prescribed rest the patient would just laugh. What rest was available for a woman who must work like a slave just to see her family fed? Vitamins seemed to help some, but doing things by hand for 75 years wears a person out.

There were some real challenges to Doc as he ministered to those people. He saw tropical diseases that he’d never get to see in the U.S.A. He also was able to affect some marvelous cures. Amazing what the right ointment, antibiotic or even soap can do to provide healing.

I was shocked to see the finger erupting and nearly seething with some strange fungus or other. The pretty young lady sporting this hideous growth was obviously in pain. But with ultimate confidence in Doc she patiently waited her turn. The proper medicine applied, a photo taken for Doc’s archives, and she was on her way and on her way to getting well.

Ngozi, (means blessing)the nurse who took days off without pay to help Doc, pulled me aside and asked me to pray for her. After I prayed, she confided that Doc had paid her a little to help last time and should she accept that? I told her to accept it as from the Lord and say no more about it. Doc was careful to never be any sort of burden to anyone. In fact he more often than not was relieving someone else’s load.

I could go on about Doc indefinitely, but if I brag about him too much, you will think I overstate facts which actually I must understate.

Doc and I shared accommodations for a month and during that time I began to verify what I already believed. This was a truly remarkable man. A man who is always steady, seems to be unaffected by fear and stress, yet also a man of obvious compassion and great intellect. I am quite happy that God, in his wisdom, chose Larry D. to accompany me to Nigeria .
The swollen tongue, glazed eyes, and somber reflection of death stared at me from that little black face. Karen Y, missionary from the United Stated, had sent a message to Doc that this child, a neighbor of hers, was desperately ill, and could he come?

Doc, by this time well versed in recognizing malaria, examined the child and smiled. I like that smile. It means, “Hey, I can do something about this one.” He could, and he did.
Doc had read about the resistance of Nigeria ‘s malaria to chloroquine, and had brought along another effective medicine in case either of us contracted malaria. It was one of these tablets that he now pressed into service. It may seem cut and dried to you, but I was impressed as he relayed the dosage and method of administration to this young, helpless mother. She too was impressed; her child, condemned to a painful death moments ago, was now going to live and smile again. As tears of gratitude streamed down her face, she dropped to her knees in the dirt and prostrated herself in gratitude to Doc.

I know what she was feeling. There were many times both before and after that occasion that I have felt the same way. Doc, thank you, from both of us.