I spent a few hours this morning getting my bearings at Samaritan's Purse Cholera Treatment Center in Bercy before  I return tonight for a long night shift. Bercy is a small community just north of our base. The CTC  now consists of 12 tents with 8 to 12 beds apiece. These beds are wooden cots with the requisite hole cut out of the middle, lined with the ubiquitous SP blue tarp. A basin sits strategically placed underneath. To say the conditions are rustic is an understatement. Even so, every precaution that can be taken is being carefully adhered to.
When we arrived this morning to relieve the night shift, all of whom were worn out, we had to quickly adjust our North American standards to third world (or fourth? fifth even?) survival mode. This adjustment can be difficult to say the least. 
The realization that not all will be saved doesn't sit well for some of us. If they get to us in time, if an IV can be started, if there are no underlying risk factors or complications, they have an excellent chance of returning home. Once they have ceased vomiting and are rehydrated enough to urinate, off they go to make room for the next stricken person. This morning I sent 6 people home. Their beds were immediately occupied.
And then there is the fear in their eyes. Will I get better? When? Will my family be spared? What if it comes back?
Only Jesus can speak to their fears. That is the primary reason we are here. At least that is why I am here. I am not an infectious disease specialist, epidemiologist, IV whiz, or public health expert. I know a bit of the language and have decent assessment skills. But more importantly, I know Jesus. He can save. He can heal. Heavenly Father, let me Jesus to these who suffer.

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9