Being able to get paracetamol was something I’ve always taken for granted. Back in the UK it can be bought for 20 pence from almost any supermarket. As a doctor both in hospital and the community, it’s the medicine I prescribe above any other as the basic first-line treatment for pain and fever. Never before had I considered what I might do if I didn’t have it.

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But then I came to PNG. I knew that working in a rural bush hospital I wouldn’t have the same supplies and resources that I had back in England. I have got used to “making do”, and finding alternatives, and doing the best I possibly can with what we have. It’s far from perfect, but we do what we can, and continue to strive for better.

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But what happens when we don’t have even the most basic of supplies? What good is my knowledge as a doctor if I have no medicines with which to treat the conditions I am diagnosing?

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What happens when a hospital in the jungle runs out of paracetamol?

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That’s what happened this week…. Almost. We had placed an order for medicines many months ago. But nothing had come. So we waited. But still it didn’t come. We chased up the drug store in the capital which was meant to be sending us our medicines. But still it didn’t come. No-one knew where it was. And no-one could be found to do anything about it.

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And all the while our supplies were getting lower and lower and lower…

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Our biggest need was simple painkillers. Last week we were down to the last three bottles for a hospital of 100 patients. And then the last two bottles left being eked out for the “most deserving” patients. Amongst those who “qualified” were a lady with a broken spine due to TB, and a patient with cancer. In the UK both patients would likely have been on morphine, whereas here they were the privileged ones having the last few paracetamol. It was desperate. And I was fed up.

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I was so fed up with it I was actually angry. Here I am as a doctor, and yet my patients were suffering in pain and I could do nothing about it. By the following day we would have run out of paracetamol, and our drug order was still lost somewhere between Moresby and outer space. I was desperate. I normally really dislike facebook being used as a platform for everyone to vent their grievances to the world, but that evening I had no-one else to scream at, so screamed at a computer screen. This was the post from that evening, 10th January:

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“Well facebook, do you really want to know what’s on my mind?? I’m pissed off. Like proper pissed off. We have two bottles of paracetamol left for the entire hospital. We have four extremely sick patients and our strongest antibiotics have run out. Our latest drug order from four months ago is still missing in transit, with no hint as to when we may get more supplies. And the government has given over the next three years drug contract to a company who have been proven to sell substandard and counterfeit drugs, causing AusAid to withdraw funding to help bring us our medical supplies. Stay out the way…I’m about to scream at someone. You have been warned.”

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Within twelve hours I had messages from 45 people in 11 countries around the world, telling me they were praying, with at least 12 churches/groups praying also. I was touched that so many people cared, but was still in a pretty bad mood and didn’t really have much faith that anything would change. I’m very grateful that everyone else had the faith for me, because early on Sunday morning, 36 hours after I vented my frustrations to the world, a ship came past Kapuna. This part of PNG is only accessible by river, with main transportation being by dugout canoe. The sound of a large engine caught the attention of everyone all over the village. What is a ship doing here today?? Especially on a Sunday?

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The engine stopped. Boxes started being unloaded. And they kept coming. 36 boxes in total, piled into our scanty drug store. I was like a child on Christmas morning opening those boxes, shrieking with delight as we pulled out much needed supplies. One box opened, and we discovered eight huge bottles of 1000 paracetamol. Incredible! But that wasn’t all… the next box had the same again, and the next! 24,000 paracetamol, plus hundreds of bottles of kid’s paracetamol and many other much needed painkillers and other supplies. Then I realised this wasn’t what we had ordered. Where had this come from?

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Turned out that this was just a generic shipment sent out to all PNG health centres once or twice a year. Which “just happened” to arrive the day we had nothing left. Which “coincidently” turned up after hundreds of people prayed. A couple of thousand paracetamol would have been enough to see us through until our order turned up, but no, God is a God who “by His mighty power at work… is able to accomplish infinitely more than we would ever dare to ask or hope” (Eph 3:20). Even when I don’t have the faith to believe it. Even when I’m at my wit’s end and am relying everyone else’s prayers.

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And just to top it off, our actual drug order with everything else we needed turned up three days later. Someone quipped “that’s the power of facebook”. I disagree. That’s the power of God!

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Four days after what quickly became known as ‘the paracetamol miracle’, we had a patient arrive who was definitely in need of divine intervention. John was a 26 year old guy who worked at a logging company a long way upriver, who had woken up in the early hours of Thursday morning completely paralysed. Unable to move any of his arms or legs, or even to hold his head up straight. Still fully conscious, he was understandably freaking out. John was airlifted by helicopter and bought here to Kapuna. As the company paramedic lifted him out and told me the story, I too began to panic slightly. This guy was sick. Like really sick. He needed an intensive care unit and full investigations, not a clueless white girl in a bush hospital with no diagnostic equipment. But even if the company would be willing to fly him on to Moresby to access those things, it would take many hours, and the state he was in he wouldn’t have made it there. John’s pulse was below 30 and rapidly dropping. He was at imminent risk of cardiac arrest. His desperate look met my panicked one as I sent up probably the shortest but most effective prayer I have ever prayed. “God, HELP!!”

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And God did. That day, the electricity generator was working and switched on. Our ECG machine had just enough paper left to give us a decent enough heart tracing to be able to make a diagnosis of John having low potassium in his blood. And God kept John’s heart beating until we found and gave the appropriate treatment to stabilise and speed up his heart to a safe level. But he was still completely paralysed, and we hadn’t a clue what had caused it or what on earth we should do now. We went through every option. Guillain-Barre? Snake bite? Polio? Rabies? Poisoning? But none of it fitted.

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At 3pm I made it home for breakfast, and prayed a marginally longer prayer. “God, guide us.” And once again, God did. Scouring the textbooks for any hint or clue, I came across three words in a list of causes of acute flaccid paralysis. “Hypokalaemic periodic paralysis”. My heart almost skipped a beat: this was it! Never in my life had I heard of this condition, but I made my way to the office and scoured google. Another miracle- despite the pouring rain, the internet was working! And it told me all I needed to know about this exceptionally rare condition, but which fitted John’s symptoms to the letter. Power of Google, or the power of God’s guidance?

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John remained stable but completely paralysed until Friday evening when I popped in to review him and ask how he was. He looked at me despairing. “My chest hurts.” Oh no… another new symptom. I asked him where the pain was. “Here” he replied, as he lifted his hand and put it to his chest. He then realised what he had done, as his own movement had caught him by surprise. He lifted his other arm, as a wide grin spread across his face. His pulse was racing, and less than half an hour later he had swung his legs off the bed, continuously jiggling his shoulders as though dancing to the rhythm of heaven itself. And then he did it. John pushed himself up off the bed, and started to walk. Then dance. Then jump! And he’s hardly stopped since!

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I’ve often wondered what it must have been like to be around when Jesus was here on earth in human form, seeing him heal the paralysed man lowered to him through the roof. But here, in a different generation and a different culture we have seen Jesus’ healing power. The four friends dropping the guy through a mud roof in front of Jesus was replaced by a helicopter dropping John into a mission hospital in the middle of the swamp. Yes there is a medical explanation for how he was healed, but the fact remains. God’s power is the same. And the miracle is the same. Paralysed men getting up and walking. Incredible (almost) beyond belief.

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PS… as for the rest of that facebook rant about the government giving over the next three years drug contract to a company who have been proven to sell substandard and counterfeit drugs, and AusAid consequently withdrawing funding to help bring us our medical supplies, this is another HUGE issue that needs and equally HUGE miracle. At the moment we don’t know what we can do but pray for a change of heart and policy, but as we’ve already seen, prayer is the most effective weapon we have. So please keep praying with us that a solution may be found to ensure a continuous supply of legitimate medication, for us here and all over PNG. Thanks! x

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PPS… latest update: with a month to go we’re now over halfway towards raising enough money for a good quality ultrasound for Kapuna. If you haven’t already, check out http://www.youcaring.com/kapunaultrasound for more info as to how you can support this project 🙂