Overcoming Tragedy—How Do You Do It?
April 25, 2013 by Jeremy · Leave a Comment

Some weeks, it feels like the whole world is on fire.
Earthquakes, coups, murder trials… I couldn’t believe the updates moving across my screen as friends at the Boston Marathon updated in realtime.
We just finished Remedy Missions in two of the most bad-mouthed cities in the country: Tikrit and Fallujah. The headlines from the last decade might lead you to believe these places are full of sad faces, in a perpetual state of despondency.
But the Iraqi and American responses to tragedy aren’t that different: in the midst of fire, they are banding together, pressing on, and overcoming.
At every juncture, we encountered positive people who had weathered storms. Troops at checkpoints greeted us warmly, families moved in and out of hospital rooms to distribute medicine and pray for each other, and, of course, doctors and hospital staff provided life-changing operations for sixteen children!
You can get caught up on stories from our last two missions in Tikrit and Fallujah here.
But I would love for you to share your own story with me. How are you seeing beyond ‘the fire’ and staying positive when faced with bombings in Boston and explosions in West, TX?
Email me at your convenience. I would love to hear back from you.
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Jeremy Courtney lives and loves in Iraq as a co-founder and Executive Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He's also the father of two spectacular children, and married to the lovely Jessica Courtney. When not absorbed in PLC work he can be found writing songs and singing about hope and future. Follow Jeremy on Twitter: @JCourt. |
The Invasion of Iraq’s 10th Anniversary—How We’re Remembering It
March 19, 2013 by Jeremy · Leave a Comment

This month marks the 10th anniversary of the U.S. invasion of Iraq.
Can you believe that much time has already passed?
After living six of those ten years in the country, I’m keenly aware how negative a lot of the headlines will be. News stories reminding us of debt and death tolls are already floating around the internet, and that’s why my team and I are so excited to deliver you this news:
As we remember the overthrow of Saddam Hussein, Preemptive Love Coalition is about to launch our first Remedy Mission in Tikrit, Saddam Hussein’s hometown and a former insurgency hotspot.
What does this mean?
We’re about to begin saving the lives of Saddam’s former neighbors, tribe-members, and relatives. This is where the rubber of enemy-love meets the road, and this is your chance to join other like-minded heartmenders in making this simple but profound declaration:
“Ten years ago something happened in Iraq, but we haven’t forgotten. We remember the families, the children, and this country that is still in need.”
Will you join us in remembering by acting? We continue to say “yes” to these amazing opportunities because of your help. Please give today to ensure that we can say “yes” to every opportunity in front of us.
Donate below to help us save lives!
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Give now to bring hope to families in Tikrit! |
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Jeremy Courtney lives and loves in Iraq as a co-founder and Executive Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He's also the father of two spectacular children, and married to the lovely Jessica Courtney. When not absorbed in PLC work he can be found writing songs and singing about hope and future. Follow Jeremy on Twitter: @JCourt. |
Meet The 300th Child You’ve Impacted!
December 13, 2012 by Jeremy · Leave a Comment
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Allow us to introduce you to a little boy named Maddy, the 300th child you've impacted in Iraq! (It still seems surreal to type out that sentence!)
It may have been Maddy’s smile that won all of us over; or maybe the fact that he represents the 300th child we’ve served over the past 5 years; or maybe both!
But despite all the celebrations and smiles here at Basra’s first Remedy Mission, the doctors are eager to work. They have waited 30 years to save children like Maddy, and now it’s time to make up for lost time!
So to celebrate Maddy's life we're doing something we've never done before. We're planning 300 more lifesaving heart surgeries—next year alone!
But we need your help. Your donations are making the biggest impact yet, and we can't let up.
This Christmas, help us save the next 300.
Whether it's a straight-up donation, a Christmas fundraising party, gifting our new lifesaving tee to your friends and family, or starting an online fundraiser—100% of the money donated is going towards saving the next 300.
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$9—Stitch a Heart
Our partner surgeons use high-quality stitches (called “sutures”) to fix leaky heart valves, sew up holes, and close up wounds after surgery. For just $9, you can help us save a child’s life—perfect for an office party or stocking stuffer!
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$50—Patch a Heart
Our partner surgeons and nurses make heart patches for each child during their operation from a sheet of material called “Gore-Tex.” For just $50, you can fill the gap in a child’s heart and help save their life!
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$500—Package of Patches
Your gift will help us buy enough material to create the patches and change the lives of ten children suffering from life-threatening holes in the walls of their hearts.
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$1,000—Heartmender Package
Your gift will help us buy all the medicines, sutures, patches and a portion of the airfare for our doctors and nurses required to save one child’s life on our next Remedy Mission. In partnership with the Iraqi government, $1,000 is roughly what it costs PLC to save a life in Iraq.
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Start Your Own Fundraiser Online Today!
You may feel like you only have a few dollars, but when you combine your best with those closest to you, you will quickly find that you can patch a heart—or fund an entire heart surgery—as a group. Click here to get started –>
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Jeremy Courtney lives and loves in Iraq as a co-founder and Executive Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He's also the father of two spectacular children, and married to the lovely Jessica Courtney. When not absorbed in PLC work he can be found writing songs and singing about hope and future. Follow Jeremy on Twitter: @JCourt. |
Our Fallujah Remedy Mission’s Success Creates Opportunities In Tikrit!
July 22, 2012 by Jeremy · Leave a Comment

As our mission here in Fallujah draws to an end, we want to celebrate our new friend, Dr. Mohammad. We first met him a few months ago with our Japanese friend, Nahoko. Dr. Mohammad is a pediatric cardiologist who recently returned from a six month training fellowship in India, where he made serious advancements in his skills. Unfortunately, in the city of Tikrit, where he works, they do not have the capacity to serve children.
In an effort to reward his initiative and hard work, we recommended that he ask his counterparts in Fallujah for permission to participate in the inaugural Fallujah Remedy Mission. Thankfully, he has great friends in Fallujah—colleagues from med school—and we were able to give Dr. Mohammad a chance to practice his new techniques in the context of his home country.
Whereas Dr. Firas was the “first man on the moon” in Fallujah—he quickly and humbly insisted that Dr. Mohammad should be Buzz Aldrin and take the second procedure. It was a beautiful sight to see these two guys “over the moon” about their historic moment together.

As our relationship developed over the course of the week, we began exploring the possibility of launching a similar program in Dr. Mohammad’s hometown of Tikrit in the coming months. Saturday, after our work was done in Fallujah, our gracious hosts at Fallujah General Hospital agreed to take us up the road a few hours to Tikrit Teaching Hospital to meet with its leadership and explore possibilities for future partnership.
Touring the hospital was a sobering experience. So many sincere, passionate doctors who used to be at the height of healthcare in the Middle East are now struggling to serve their patients.

After the tour, Dr. Kirk and I sat in the director’s office with the two lead pediatric cardiologists—Dr. Alaa and Dr. Mohammad. When I asked how many other teams from around the world had visited the hospital, I was surprised by their response. It was almost confusion:
“What do you mean? No one has ever come to visit us. You are the first team to even visit. If you decide to work here with us, you will be the first to teach here and treat children here.”
Dr. Kirk, Mrs. Qaragholi and I are all very humbled to be invited into such an amazing, opportunity. Because this is probably the thing that most defines our Coalition: we want to be where no one else wants to be. Find us a group of people who have been excluded or written off by the majority and you’ve found our kind of people.
Tikrit is a very storied city; one of those places that really represents something. And because of that, it’s a place that is easy to characterize and marginalize.
Dr. Mohammad, Dr. Kirk, & Dr. Firas. Photo credit: Mary Porisch
As we piled into our caravan to drive back to Fallujah, the local doctors gathered around the entrance of the hospital and earnestly pleaded, “Please, don’t forget us. Don’t forget us after you leave.”
We are working every angle we can in hopes of securing a partnership in Tikrit. In any case, we will never forget them, their kindness, and their passion for serving the children of their city. God willing, we will join them in that effort one day soon.
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Our 85 suture kits are FULLY funded — Thank you for helping fund $765 worth of medical supplies! |
Our Partners:


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Jeremy Courtney lives and loves in Iraq as a co-founder and Executive Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He's also the father of two spectacular children, and married to the lovely Jessica Courtney. When not absorbed in PLC work he can be found writing songs and singing about hope and future. Follow Jeremy on Twitter: @JCourt. |
Meet Yousef And His Fluffy, Irresistible Cheeks!
July 17, 2012 by Jeremy · Leave a Comment
I honestly couldn’t help myself when I saw Yousf and his cheeks. I’m a pretty disciplined person, and I live a fairly regimented life. But his cuteness overwhelmed me and my discipline went out the window!
I normally wouldn’t interact too much with a child in his mother’s arms in a conservative place like Fallujah. But Yousef isn’t your “normal” kind of cute, either.
Within a short time we were playing peek-a-boo, holding hands, and watching Toy Story on the PLC iPad (thanks for helping us buy such an amazing tool for appeasing sick children in the hospital!)
Nurse Molly and Shannon administered Yousef’s sedatives in preparation for his upcoming procedure. He didn’t like the taste too much but we were soon back to playing.
As he sat there trying to figure me out—this impossibly white, foreign hairless guy—his meds kicked in.

Have you ever seen kids fall asleep at the dinner table? My parents have a great photo of me face down in mom’s spaghetti. Yousef was headed that direction. Sitting up looking me square in the eyes, he would slowly fall over, dozing off. He’d gather himself, sit up, and do it all over again.
I try not to play favorites… but come on! Look at those cheeks! Come back tomorrow to see more of this adorable little boy and to hear how his operation went. More to come…
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Our 85 suture kits are FULLY funded — Thank you for helping fund $765 worth of medical supplies! |
Our Partners:


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Jeremy Courtney lives and loves in Iraq as a co-founder and Executive Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He's also the father of two spectacular children, and married to the lovely Jessica Courtney. When not absorbed in PLC work he can be found writing songs and singing about hope and future. Follow Jeremy on Twitter: @JCourt. |
Walking Into History—Old And New Perspectives On Fallujah
July 12, 2012 by Jeremy · Leave a Comment

Today we cranked up the “cath lab” for the first time ever in the city of Fallujah.
It’s a great honor for everyone on the team to be here; it’s history in the making everywhere we go and expectations are high. People are warm, welcoming, and excited about what we’re doing. This is not the Fallujah you’ve heard about on the news.
As much as we hate to relive the past, the significance of our invitation to Fallujah can only be understood in the context of recent years. At the beginning of the 2003 war, Fallujah was known as a support base for Saddam Hussein’s regime. On the birthday of Saddam Hussein, who was still at large, crowds gathered and protested US soldiers encamped in a local school. Shots were fired and the resulting chaos left 17 dead, including women and children, and 70 injured. The incident set the tone for years of local intransigence against US troops.
A year later, four private American contractors were killed and mutilated by mobs in the street, their bodies were hung from the “Brooklyn Bridge” on the west end of town.
Further hostilities, attacks, and vitriolic sermons finally gave way to the Battle of Fallujah in 2004.
As the smoke cleared in the years that followed, Sunnis across the Anbar province began joining the “Awakening” movement—an alliance against terrorism. Terrorism decreased significantly and life returned to normal in Fallujah.
But everything was not as normal as it seemed. In local hospitals, people like Dr. Samira al-Ani (Alani) were collecting data that would ultimately make its way into peer-reviewed journals claiming that nearly 1 in 7 children were being born with birth defects.
Although Dr. Samira and her colleagues never made explicit claims or accusations of causality, residents naturally began to associate the rise in birth defects with U.S. weapons—both white phosphorous and depleted uranium. No research exists to substantiate such claims.
But their claims were enough to catch my attention. And that, in large part, is why we’re here today.
I’m excited that we—you included—finally have the chance to save lives in Fallujah! Stay tuned for more information about the groundbreaking work we’re doing…

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Our 85 suture kits are FULLY funded — Thank you for helping fund $765 worth of medical supplies! |
Our Partners:

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Jeremy Courtney lives and loves in Iraq as a co-founder and Executive Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He's also the father of two spectacular children, and married to the lovely Jessica Courtney. When not absorbed in PLC work he can be found writing songs and singing about hope and future. Follow Jeremy on Twitter: @JCourt. |
Failure Report: Year 2011 (Part 3 of 3)
June 19, 2012 by Jeremy · Comments Off

The only bad failure
is the one from which we fail to learn.
Most organizations put a premium on celebrating successes at the end of every year—we certainly do!
But we also believe that we have a great deal to learn from our failures, so we endeavor to share them and the lessons we’ve learned in hopes of avoiding those same mistakes in the future.
When seeking to tackle intractable problems in an environment like Iraq, missed opportunities, missteps, false starts, and failures are par-for-the-course. There will be no improvement in the political situation in Iraq, in the economy, in healthcare, or in the pursuit of peace without a number of flops and failures along the journey. If we already knew what worked, we all would’ve implemented it by now and moved on.
The truth is, neither the American government nor the Iraqi—neither international nor local NGOs—truly know what works in Iraq. Most of us are making educated guesses and seeking to rightly adapt programs and principles that have proven successful at other times in Iraq or in other parts of the world.
From this point forward, I want to provide you with an annual (and sometimes real-time) assessment of our failures. In absence of such previous reports, I will use a few minutes to highlight our most meaningful setbacks, failures and lessons learned to date.
The three major failures of 2011, to be covered in this report are:
Failure #2: High-mortality Remedy Missions in February/March 2011 (Read about Failure #2 here)
Failure #3: The Loss of Our Sulaymaniyah, Iraq Surgery Site as a Major Developmental Partner; Lack of Surgical Capacity Increase As a Result of Remedy Missions Conducted
Let’s get started…
Failure #3: The Loss of Our Sulaymaniyah, Iraq Surgery Site as a Major Developmental Partner
Unfortunately, it became obvious in May 2011, after completing two Remedy Missions to the Sulaymaniyah Center for Heart Disease, that local organizations and hospital leadership were not committed to the partnership. In-fighting over child selection, credit sharing and cost sharing dogged the nascent partnership from day one.
We struggled for one year to make the partnership work. But ultimately, we failed to keep it all together. What we deemed to be petty lines in the sand gave us deep concerns over the ability of local players to see our program through to the 5-year completion that we had all discussed and envisioned.
Our March 2011 Remedy Mission IV was a huge disappointment in many ways. We went back to the drawing board and made a few required upgrades before our international team would agree to work again in the hospital.
By May 2011, as we tried to put the final touches on our next mission to the center, the local hospital had failed to made requisite upgrades in hardware, medications and supplies.
In consultation with our international partners, we ultimately issued a vote of “no confidence” and cancelled the pending mission.
In many ways this felt like a waste—a waste of nearly 8,000 of cumulative training hours; a waste of financial resources on a program that apparently lacked the willpower to see commitments through to the end, etc. All we had to show for our two missions in the city were 42 operations—including a few ground-breaking, inspirational cases; some amazing stories of peace and reconciliation; and eight deaths.
Within six months, we heard that the heart center was moving forward with an Italian team along a contract similar to the one we had originally proposed. The Italian mission in the Fall 2011 was deemed a success, and many surgeries were performed, but after the mission was completed rumors again circulated about local politics and an apparent inability to mobilize the center toward a long-term contract with the Italian team.
In a January 2012 meeting with the Director of Health for the province, we inquired about the number of surgeries that had been performed since our team and the Italian team had conducted three surgical missions to the city. To our great disappointment, the health director laughed and asked if we were joking, saying that the hospital’s surgical capacity had not improved in the previous year, in spite of the three missions. He laid the blame at the feet of local staff and the politics and health and not at the feet of the international teams that had attempted to help.
Lessons Learned:
I’m not entirely sure we’ve learned all there is to learn from this yet. Our inability to woo or influence the hospital leadership into making the necessary upgrades was frustrating, but it is still unclear how we could have sweetened the deal or foreseen it coming prior to the May 2011 deadline that we set.
I am grateful that we made the decision to pull the plug on the program rather than continue to invest valuable resources (from all parties) into a stagnate program. The cumulative work done by international teams in the Center over the course of one year should have led to a measurable increase in surgical capacity. That is how our programs are designed and we are seeing an increase in capacity in other cities.
One question that we have contemplated is the idea of exclusivity in our contracts with a hospital. Should we insist on exclusive rights to train in a hospital, in an effort to increase commitment, decrease the opportunity for communication breakdowns and competing interests, etc? In the southern cities of Iraq where we work (where security risks are a much greater concern and where development is further behind the northern cities), we do not have competing interests. This appears to have created a greater loyalty and a healthier trust between our international and local teams than anything we were able to achieve in Sulaymaniyah. Our inclination continues to be against such exclusivity demands, but the question has come up as we seek to understand what went wrong and how we can avoid it in the future.
We cut our losses before running a mission in a dangerous environment. Perhaps most importantly, we cut our losses on a program that showed little organizational leadership and, in the words of the health director himself, zero increase in surgical output resulting from our educational, material, and infrastructural inputs. While the loss itself is a huge disappointment and I feel a personal sense of failure for my inability to cobble together a solution, it could have been so much worse.
Conclusion:
It has been an exhilarating year in so many ways. But the above failures have been sobering. Yes, children are alive that may not be if we had not intervened. But it is undoubtedly true that children have died because we intervened. If our mandate is primum non nocere—first, do no harm—then it is cleared that we have failed on that front at least a few times this year. At least one was related to indecisiveness—a leadership failure on my part. Some of the other deaths were to be expected given the risks that were clearly communicated to the family. But we do not only seek to “do no harm.” We have another object in view: we seek to do good. And we did not attain the good that we desired in our now defunct partnership. For reasons to which we are not privy, they have failed to increase their surgical output as a result of our efforts. We made the right decision walking away from the partnership for the time being. We will remain open to reengaging in the future if local conditions change.
I am most impressed and proud of our team’s willingness to confront and respond to failure on a trip-by-trip basis. When it became obvious that a mission could not run without an international cardiologist, we responded. When the local conditions required staggering the deployment of extra nursing staff so that ICU care could extend in a professional manner beyond the duration of the official trip itself, we responded. And when we were urged to move ahead with a mission in spite of conditions that we believed to be unsafe, we responded by canceling the trip.
There are at least a few viable philosophies as to how one should develop a pediatric cardiac care program. Some progressive; some conservative. Some are boring and more predictable; others are inspiring and innovative. We are proud to work with professionals who employ different methodologies and adhere to different philosophies of development. We will no doubt continue to face difficult days as we face down death and attempt to eradicate the backlog of Iraqi children waiting in line for lifesaving heart surgery. But we envision a day in the future when every child across the country has access to the care they need within a 3 hour car ride. And we will continue to labor toward that end.
If you have any questions or concerns about this report, the decisions we’ve made, or the direction we are going, please email me at your convenience. I would love to hear from you.
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Jeremy Courtney lives and loves in Iraq as a co-founder and Executive Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He's also the father of two spectacular children, and married to the lovely Jessica Courtney. When not absorbed in PLC work he can be found writing songs and singing about hope and future. Follow Jeremy on Twitter: @JCourt. |
Failure Report: Year 2011 (Part 2 of 3)
May 22, 2012 by Jeremy · Comments Off

The only bad failure
is the one from which we fail to learn.
Most organizations put a premium on celebrating successes at the end of every year—we certainly do!
But we also believe that we have a great deal to learn from our failures, so we endeavor to share them and the lessons we’ve learned in hopes of avoiding those same mistakes in the future.
When seeking to tackle intractable problems in an environment like Iraq, missed opportunities, missteps, false starts, and failures are par-for-the-course. There will be no improvement in the political situation in Iraq, in the economy, in healthcare, or in the pursuit of peace without a number of flops and failures along the journey. If we already knew what worked, we all would’ve implemented it by now and moved on.
The truth is, neither the American government nor the Iraqi—neither international nor local NGOs—truly know what works in Iraq. Most of us are making educated guesses and seeking to rightly adapt programs and principles that have proven successful at other times in Iraq or in other parts of the world.
From this point forward, I want to provide you with an annual (and sometimes real-time) assessment of our failures. In absence of such previous reports, I will use a few minutes to highlight our most meaningful setbacks, failures and lessons learned to date.
The three major failures of 2011, to be covered in this series of reports are:
Failure #2: High-mortality Remedy Missions in February/March 2011
Failure #3: The Loss of Our Sulaymaniyah, Iraq Surgery Site as a Major Developmental Partner; Lack of Surgical Capacity Increase As a Result of Remedy Missions Conducted
Let’s get started…
2011 Failure #2: High-mortality Remedy Missions in February/March 2011
In February and March we ran two back-to-back Remedy Missions. One was our second in the southern city of Nasiriyah; the other was our second in the northern city of Sulaymaniyah.
Over the course of four weeks of surgery, mortality rates between the two cities reached 20.5% (7 deaths out of 34 operations).
A few of the losses were very surprising to many on the local and international team and had an extremely demoralizing effect on the team (particularly in Sulaymaniyah). The loss of momentum undoubtedly had a qualitative impact on the care provided as the trip progressed.
Some of the factors were anomalous, such as our lead surgeon contracting an infection in a wound on his ankle that resulted in impromptu surgery inside Iraq to save his leg. But other factors were almost certainly preventable, beginning with case selection and moving to fundamental deficiencies in the hospital equipment and protocols themselves.
A lack of warming blankets, portable oxygen units, a ready blood bank and several other fundamentals led to a less-than-ideal environment for the teaching of pediatric cardiac care. As a result of all these factors and the inherent difficulties of open-heart surgery, mortality rates in the Sulaymaniyah mission reached 22% (four deaths)—unacceptably high by any standard.
None of the deaths were considered “surgical” deaths, in the sense that the child did not die on the operating table, but rather in the post-operative intensive care unit, ward, or—in one case—in the car on the way home after being prematurely discharged by a local nurse the day the international team left the country.

Lessons Learned:
Our international team was very impressed with the local cardiologist for Remedy Mission II in the southern city of Nasiriyah. When it came time to schedule Remedy Mission III in that city, the decision was apparently made to not send a cardiologist on the mission, believing that the local team could handle it. This may have contributed to the imbalanced case selection in RM III and may have led to the situation in which three children died during the course of the mission.
Since that mission, an international cardiologist has been present on every Remedy Mission in an effort to help with case selection and create a balanced schedule of surgeries.
In Sulaymaniyah for Remedy Mission IV, case selection was complicated by the number of stakeholders in the mission. Children were formally and informally (that is, “politically”) put into the mission by the Preemptive Love Coalition, local cardiologists and surgeons, Kurdistan Save the Children (a local NGO), and the Health Directorate.
With regard to Yahya’s case, as described before, I can certainly say that my judgement was impaired when it came to case selection. I can speculate that other entities, in an effort to do right by the friends and patients on their lists, made similar errors in judgement that ultimately skewed the balance of the surgery schedule and its complexities.
When two children died in Sulaymaniyah after the international team left for the airport, we realized for the first time how ill-equipped the local team was to handle relatively simple post-operative care (one child had a positive prognosis in the ICU and the other was already out of ICU and recovering in the ward).
In our post-mission Impact Evaluation Report, we published the following statement:
Our post-mission conferences and deliberations on the matter resulted in the following protocols:
1. A mandatory reduction in “RACHS-1 scores” presented to the international team by the local team
2. A mandatory international ICU team to be left behind after surgeries stop to stave off post-mission ICU deaths and errant discharges
3. A postponing of our next planned mission to the Sulaymaniyah Center for Heart Disease due to lack of preparation of materials, equipment, staff, and protocols
If you have any questions or concerns about this report, the decisions we’ve made, or the direction we are going, please email me at your convenience. I would love to hear from you.
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Jeremy Courtney lives and loves in Iraq as a co-founder and Executive Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He's also the father of two spectacular children, and married to the lovely Jessica Courtney. When not absorbed in PLC work he can be found writing songs and singing about hope and future. Follow Jeremy on Twitter: @JCourt. |
Failure Report: Year 2011 (Part 1 of 3)
May 3, 2012 by Jeremy · Comments Off

The only bad failure
is the one from which we fail to learn.
Most organizations put a premium on celebrating successes at the end of every year—we certainly do!
But we also believe that we have a great deal to learn from our failures, so we endeavor to share them and the lessons we’ve learned in hopes of avoiding those same mistakes in the future.
When seeking to tackle intractable problems in an environment like Iraq, missed opportunities, missteps, false starts, and failures are par-for-the-course. There will be no improvement in the political situation in Iraq, in the economy, in healthcare, or in the pursuit of peace without a number of flops and failures along the journey. If we already knew what worked, we all would’ve implemented it by now and moved on.
The truth is, neither the American government nor the Iraqi—neither international nor local NGOs—truly know what works in Iraq. Most of us are making educated guesses and seeking to rightly adapt programs and principles that have proven successful at other times in Iraq or in other parts of the world.
From this point forward, I want to provide you with an annual (and sometimes real-time) assessment of our failures. In absence of such previous reports, I will use a few minutes to highlight our most meaningful setbacks, failures and lessons learned to date.
The three major failures of 2011, to be covered in this report are:
Failure #2: High-mortality Remedy Missions in February/March 2011
Failure #3: The Loss of Our Sulaymaniyah, Iraq Surgery Site as a Major Developmental Partner; Lack of Surgical Capacity Increase As a Result of Remedy Missions Conducted
Let’s get started…
Failure #1: Leadership Indecisiveness on the Case of Six-Year-old Yahya
This was a major lesson in leadership that potentially affects every area of our organizational and team life, couched in the saga of one very specific family.
I was walking home from work one night in Iraq in early 2010, when my phone rang. On the other end of the line was a man, knocking on the door back at my office, in hopes of meeting me and presenting the case of his nephew, Yahya, to me for surgical consideration. I asked if we could meet tomorrow, but he was insistent and there seemed to be great urgency in his voice. Instead of postponing the meeting, I gave him directions to my home and met with him over tea.
From early on, the situation was less than ideal. Yahya had already received one charitable heart surgery and the second one that was being requested was bound to be difficult.
In our 2007-2010 Failure Report, I noted our decision to restrict the complexity of children we sent abroad for surgery after a series of deaths caused us to reconsider our risk tolerance. Yahya was definitely on the high end of our new risk tolerance.
I chose to refuse surgery to the family based on our new priorities.
Months later, after a new check-up, Yahya’s mother and father brought him into our office to inquire again about the possibility of surgery. I’ll never forget sitting with them in my office explaining our decision to decline surgery funding for Yahya.
Then, with all the persistence that you would expect from a mother, she appealed to me again not to turn away their little boy.
I think one thing that non-profit directors and program directors fail to say often enough is this: “I am a human. I’m swayed by the kindness or brashness of our patients and, at times, it heavily influences how I make selection decisions.”
I could not continue to say “no” any longer. I said “yes” (with conditions).
Our surgeon in Istanbul was clear from the beginning that his surgery would require a “valved conduit” (an additional $5,000 expense or more) and licensing agreements in Turkey at the time had caused a shortage of such devices.
Cody Fisher (Development Director) did a great job reaching an agreement with Medtronic providing Yahya with a donated conduit, but the timing of receiving the conduit was still beholden to the licensing agreements that were being worked out in Istanbul.
All these factors together ultimately led to Yahya missing our July 2010 surgery group to Istanbul. We refunded the family’s portion of the money they had contributed for his surgery.
Shortly thereafter, in August 2010, we conducted our first Remedy Mission inside Iraq—our new programatic focus on localized training and development. The mission was such a huge success, I became convinced that we needed to cease all funding for outside surgeries and focus solely on development work inside the country.
But I also felt a sense of commitment to Yahya and his family, who were basically caught in the transitional period between one programatic focus and another.
What I should have done at that point was send Yahya to surgery in Turkey, finish our commitments there, take the free valved conduit from Medtronic, and finish our work in Turkey strongly. What I did instead was place Yahya on an upcoming Remedy Mission and take the Turkey option off the table for the family.
What I didn’t account for very well in that decision was how the complexity of Yahya’s case would fare in a development setting; a setting in which local capacity was far below that which he would have received in Istanbul.
In the chaos of Remedy Mission IV, a number of things went badly. Among them, Yahya’s family probably did not receive the proper explanations that they should have about the risks of his surgery and they probably felt very vulnerable about the decision to go forward with the risky surgery or forever miss their opportunity.
It was difficult to assess all this in real time, in part because I was so hopeful for Yahya and his family. In my optimism, I did not see or recognize a few red flags. But even that is not the whole truth… I remember hesitations—“red flags”—even as I sit here today. I willingly suppressed anything that was not hopeful and optimistic. It seemed noble, brave and right.
But he wasn’t my child.
Yahya’s surgery presented many complications that ultimately required doctors to operate through the night. When Yahya arrived in ICU around 5 or 6 a.m. the next morning, he was deemed stable enough for the surgical team to go to the hotel for a few hours of sleep. Before their bus even arrived at the hotel, though, Yahya had passed away in ICU.
I would not normally include a single death in a year-end Failure Report. My point is not that I feel bad and need catharsis. It’s just that Yahya was different, and not only because he had a name or because his family hosted us for dessert in their home and shared tea in mine. No, Yahya was different because I flipped-flopped on the family so many times. I said “no.” Then “yes.” Then “no” again. And then “yes.” And then he died.
Organizationally, the failure was related to a lesson we were just beginning to identify in our 2007-10 Failure Report: we are not the best qualified to select children for surgery. The suggested way forward at that time is still right: we have handed child selection over to a committee of local healthcare providers and our international surgical team. There will still be deaths that we regret deeply, but they will be less a function of our role and influence in the child selection process.
Personally, the failure was related to my inability to make a decision and stick with it. I always had a bad feeling about Yahya’s likelihood to endure surgery. That was why I denied funding more than a year prior to his death. I had good reason to deny funding. But I went back on my hunch. Fair enough… I wanted to give a family a chance. But I never really got over my fears of his death and that made me unwilling to go all in with the family. I hedged over spending extra money on his expensive valved conduit. And even when the conduit was donated, I found other reasons to delay surgery for fear of spending a lot of money (including the family’s) on a surgery about which I was always suspicious.
Lessons Learned:
1. It’s OK to change one’s mind; but a leadership “Yes” or “No” should mean something. It hurts everyone involved to say one thing, give the impression of support, and never fully get behind one’s own decision. In this case, it played a role in Yahya’s death. He may have died in Istanbul just the same. The death itself is not the failure here. The faulty, character-flawed process by which I made life-altering decisions is.
I said “no.” I should have stood my ground. Or I said “yes” and I should have given that family my fullest “yes” ever. Instead, I said “yes” and stayed on the fence. I won’t do that again.
2. We are not qualified to select children. We are too emotionally attached and we do not possess the knowledge to make a right decision about a patient’s candidacy for surgery. We have handed child selection over to a collaboration between local cardiologists and our international surgical teams.
If you have any questions or concerns about this report, the decisions we’ve made, or the direction we are going, please email me at your convenience. I would love to hear from you.
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Jeremy Courtney lives and loves in Iraq as a co-founder and Executive Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He's also the father of two spectacular children, and married to the lovely Jessica Courtney. When not absorbed in PLC work he can be found writing songs and singing about hope and future. Follow Jeremy on Twitter: @JCourt. |
Our Struggle With Mortality
April 10, 2012 by Jeremy · Comments Off

When you intend to be in the “business” of saving lives, facing up to death can be a difficult thing.
For my part, in leading the Preemptive Love Coalition, knowing how to admit “failure,” when to acknowledge death without assigning fault, and when to let a death go unreported can be very difficult. The inherent difficulties are compounded by my responsibilities to various constituencies, including (but not limited to) the parents, local health care professionals, local political realities, coalition partners, national political realities, and international donors. At any given time, any one of these entities could be pushing for more or less reporting on a specific item; on a specific death and data set that would include a specific death.
In our January Remedy Mission VIII, a little boy named Yousef that we had grown to really love died in surgery. We held him up as a beacon of hope for the future of all Iraqi children facing congenital heart disease. We told his story and proudly proclaimed his desire to be the next world-famous soccer player. And then we asked you to give your money so that he could be saved by a team of international doctors and nurses. We also promised that his surgery would be an occasion for still more training for Iraqi doctors and nurses in our Nasiriyah program in southern Iraq during the mission (which was to be our sixth mission to the center in just 13 months).
Suffice it to say that a local trainee made a mistake that cost Yousef his life.
Because Yousef was the first child in line for treatment that mission, we questioned what the psychological impact would be in widely reporting his death. Again, our considerations involved our international volunteers, local politics, coalition partners and international donors most specifically.
Remedy Mission VIII also featured two first-time nurses from the International Children’s Heart Foundation, both of which provided excellent insights into the local situation and helpful critique about the lack of success and development in the Nasiriyah program.
As we struggled to understand the death (the first mortality in 2-3 missions), our focus was on program development and responses to the conditions that led to the fatal error. Once the mission was over, a few more children had died and reporting on any single one of them was basically more than any of us could stand to emphasize at the time.
A typical response from a surgeon might be “Children have to die in order to build a heart surgery program.” And it’s true. But we are not surgeons. We are just a few normal people who have not held the human heart in our hands and who have not trained for this.
I’m writing to apologize for not reporting on Yousef’s death. We sent a private email to all who donated to Yousef’s account and let them know. But we did not endeavor anything more public.
After the mission a close friend who was still praying for Yousef contacted me without knowing he had died. It was then that I realized how many friends Yousef had and realized that it is not donations alone that tie us each to these children we seek to help. We are drawn in by their eyes, their stories and the hope they exude.
I wish now I would have allowed you to mourn Yousef’s death with us. They are not always easy decisions when juggling the preferences of so many stake holders. But somewhere along the way I gave up trying to push the message out because I did not want to come face to face with the story of his death again.
When you’re in the business of saving lives, “almost” doesn’t count.
We miss Yousef. He was a bright light!
And there are many other children out there who need our help; who are likely to survive; who can greatly benefit from surgical intervention. And there are hundreds of doctors and nurses who desperately need to be trained so they can serve these children on their own.
Thank you for continuing to stand with us…
Jeremy
Please feel free to email me with any questions or concerns.
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Jeremy Courtney lives and loves in Iraq as a co-founder and Executive Director of the Preemptive Love Coalition. He's also the father of two spectacular children, and married to the lovely Jessica Courtney. When not absorbed in PLC work he can be found writing songs and singing about hope and future. Follow Jeremy on Twitter: @JCourt. |















