Dr. Kyaw Myint - A Life of Christian Bernard

On December 6, 1967, Dr. Christian Barnard surgically removed the failing heart of Louisa Vanshanski and replaced it with the heart of a young girl who had died in a car accident. It was the world's first human heart transplant, and Dr. Barnard became an instant celebrity in the medical world.

Dr. Bernard's life story is as complex as his major surgery, the first of its kind to be documented in medical history. He was raised by his father, a clergyman, and his mother, a schoolteacher, who always taught him to be first in everything he did.

At the age of 45, a twist of fate took him from a poor and remote town in South Africa to one of the largest hospitals in the United States, where he honed his surgical skills.

Kaeng Aung trained hard, struggling with physical and mental fatigue.

Not only he himself, but also his entire surgical team, had been dedicated and rigorously trained for heart transplant surgery, and only then did they bravely and confidently risk their lives to save the life of a dying patient.

Chapter (1)

I must have been about 12 years old when I first began to doubt that “God is capable of controlling all the suffering and happiness that humans experience.” At that time, I was attending a New Year’s Eve service in a church in my native South Africa, in the west of Johannesburg. My mother played the organ in the church. When it was time to start playing, I would signal to Kyat’s mother, who was deaf, with my elbow. Kyat’s job was to blow air into the pipes in the organ.

Pastor Rabbi's opening sermon that night was also as inspiring as a chicken's egg.

"All the sins of the past year are piled up before you. What kind of people are there in this audience? I'll say it again. Which of you is the most wicked?"

"Can't we pick up the huge bundle of his terrible sins? Who among us can bear our burdens and leave this place without bending our backs?"

I too have been pondering how great my burden of sin is, and whether I can bear it myself. I have been stealing candy, killing cats, sneaking into other people's orchards, and stroking Jessie Greenback's calf in the bushes... If I were to list all the various sins, it would not be enough to fill a single packet. Rubbing the girl's calf was not something he did deliberately. While playing at school, Kyat was quietly hiding in the bushes when the girl came up behind Kyat. As he slowly advanced, Kyat's hand touched his calf. Kyat did nothing. He just sat there quietly, not removing his touch from his calf. I was still thinking about this until the pastor finished his speech praising God and closing the ceremony.

"The worshippers were leaving in droves, so all that was left was to play the hymn. When I gave the signal, my mother began to play the melody "Fly, Christian Soldiers" with all her heart. Kyat blew on the organ while I looked around to see if Jesse was still in the church. At that moment, I saw a crowd of people in the front pew. A woman who had fallen down was being carried by people and laid on the pew, but she did not move as if she was lifeless. An older woman took off the woman's shoes and rubbed her feet. Another woman put a Bible under the woman's head, and it flew under the yellow hat she was wearing. I was amazed at how such a tragedy could happen at this time and place. ' Isn't the church really a safe place? ' It is a time when the Dhamma hymns are being sung, so it is a time of great auspiciousness and prosperity. Is this woman's bad karma so great that she cannot bear the burden? If so, who has committed such evil deeds?

The temple is going to be a very dangerous place for me. This is not right. I will have to ask my father about this. While I was thinking, an old man shouted, "Hey, boy... all the people who have come to worship are gone, and you should ask your mother to play the flute."

My mother and I were knocked on the door by a man who had come and gone from the church. The man was panting and shaking, and I could see that he was still running down the middle aisle. I thought the woman who had collapsed earlier was probably dead. My mother had to go home first. It was past midnight. Our family got up at 4 in the morning and went on a trip to a seaside village called ' Wild Land ' . Our mother and I crossed the church road and stopped in front of a small church beyond the town hall. That was my father's church. There was only one bell for both churches, so the times for the morning and evening services were not far from each other, they were almost the same. Tonight, when we arrived, we could still hear my father's sermon.

'If it's legal, please tell your father to help you travel.'

I happily entered the church. For me, this church was as familiar as my own home. One reason for this was that it was my father's church, and another reason I realized only after I was older. Both churches were Dutch Reformed, so they were simple and innocent. But the pastor's church was magnificent and beautiful. The white spire of his church rose high into the sky of our town, and I thought it was even higher than the Newell Mountains. My father's church had no such spire. It was simple, like a barn with a red tiled roof. The interior of their temple was quite spacious, and the walls, constructed of teak, gradually rose from low to high in accordance with the rhythms of the hymns. When they met the vaulted ceiling, it reminded me of a corner of heaven. My father's temple.

The school is built with large planks, so it's similar to a public house on earth. In comparison, my father's church is as comfortable and warm as a cow's trough.

The only significant difference between the two churches is the skin color of the worshippers who sing the same hymn at the same time under different roofs. The people who attend the main church are white-faced, and the father's temple is dark-skinned.

The people who come to school are black, white people are Europeans like Dutch, French, German, English, etc., and the rest are non-Europeans, black people, mostly from Africa.

Although these two groups worship in separate churches, their ancestors are not different. The two priests they worship were also ordained by the Dutch Reformed Bishop, so they are people of the same faith. However, Mr. Rabi was appointed as the priest to serve the 3,400 Europeans in the western part of the country, while Father Kyat was appointed to serve the 7,000 poor black people in the remote and remote areas of the country.