Every week I try to look back and find something to be thankful
for. This last week it's been pretty easy- I've been in a little piece of
America that feels just like home.
You know when you meet those people and
they just click? They say or do something and you're like yep, this is it. I've found my
people. Well it was pretty
much just like that with the Hurry's.
I met they both in passing early on in my
stay in Uganda but didn't really get to hangout with them until a very
memorable trip to the Lira Main Hospital in town.
I should probably prep it by saying that I
am so not cut out for the medical field. Like not even a little bit. Keep it
in, if it's bleeding go handle it cause I can but really really don't want to.
So I end up visiting the Lira Main
Hospital with some friends from our Bible Study to pray for some of their
family members that have been admitted. Now I know when I tell stories I'm
sometimes guilty of exaggerating or embellishing but let me tell you this is
just a statement of fact and not embellished at all: that hospital was one of the
scariest places I've ever been. Now
from many conversations with other Mzungus here [Read: Western Folks] I've learned that this is one of
the better hospitals. ARE YOU KIDDING ME I COULD NOT EVEN WITH THAT PLACE. But
even still it is definitely a third world hospital.
We went into the Men's Ward to visit
Lucy's nephew and walked into an open room with hundreds hundreds of beds and patients. The ward was
one open room with many partial walls to put beds against. The walls had number
after number after number painted on them with a bed in front of each. If you
didn't bring your own supplies/sheets/food/family you had nothing. I didn't see
one medical professional in the whole building. As we made our way through the
ward I tried not to make eye contact or look at anyone, all men in various
states of dress trying so hard to get the attention of the Mzungu girls that
had just walked in. We made our way to the back where Lucy's nephew was, he'd
been in a boda (motorbike) accident. He was laying in a bed surrounded by 7
other male patients, beds pressed up against one another. His leg was swollen.
So swollen it looked like 2 legs combined. Turns out he broke his femur and was
in so much pain he was sweating. But medicine here is optional, and only then
if your family can afford it.
Our hospital visit left me horrified if
we're being completely honest. We stopped by a few more beds on the way out as
we were grabbed to pray for people. Some of those people had been their for
months. They had a bed but no money for treatment, no one to visit or provide
linens or even clothes, and food? Forget it. The disease, the sense of despair,
the hopelessness and smell all turned my stomach. I got home that night almost
of the brink of some type of panic attack, I couldn't breathe. My chest hurt
and I was irrationally yet understandably afraid of venturing out on any road-
because what are my options? What happens if I get sick? What happens if I'm in
an accident or injured? This was my medical option! I'd just seen it and it was
horrifying.
Which leads me to meeting the Hurry's. Dr.
Bridget is not only a doctor but also a mom and has been living and working in
Uganda for 5 years. After some encouragement from someone back home [Shoutout
to Julie!] I went Friday morning to see if she had some time to just sit. She
didn't really but excitedly welcomed me into her home, sharing TV, a couch and ice
water [all huge and exciting things in Uganda, trust me!]
That day is imprinted on my memory along
with the announcement made when I had dinner with them that this was "The
year of bacon! We will figure out how to get bacon at the Cafe!"
How could these not be my people am I
right?
So thankful for a community here that
understands the struggle and brings a little piece of America to Uganda. And
wants to bring bacon, that’s the important part ;)
Scavenger Hunting with the Kiddos!
