It was one of those days where nothing was going as planned. The sky was overcast and we had been scheduled to fly three missionaries out to Angoram. When they arrived about an hour later than our agreed upon meeting time, we decided to follow through with the 25-minute flight. After we unloaded their gear, just as I was closing the cargo door to return to Wewak, a boat carrying four men came racing up to the plane. One of them was lying down covered in blood-soaked rags, and another was holding an upright canoe paddle with an IV bag attached at the top handle. One of the missionaries asked, “Are you expecting a patient inbound?”, and my answer was no.