The title of this post is based upon that fact that I was not fully prepared for the stress that would go along with truly becoming part of the family here. Taking on ownership and responsibility for the kids - being depended on – has its difficulties; especially with the week that we’ve had.
Around the time of Selina passing, some of our kids started getting fevers. At first we thought malaria, but that was disproved after we had CBC’s done on all of them. One particular night we were discussing the possibilities and checking symptoms with the help of Google…bad idea; we all went to bed feeling a little nauseous with words like typhoid and yellow fever going through our heads. Fortunately, with the light of day, a little logic and typhoid being ruled out due to one of our sicker kids getting tested at Al-Shafa, we were assured it was most likely a nasty bug and a run of antibiotics would do the trick. As a side note, we believe this may have been what ultimately caused Selina’s death as her little body was just too weak and stressed to deal with it. In the midst of our yellow fever fears, earlier this week, Nam (who’s been staying in the living room with baby with one of us on the couch to keep an eye on them) spiked a particularly high fever. It was during the time of day when all the kids had had their baths and were playing in the living room and while the Emily’s were checking her out, she became slightly delusional from her fever and illness and started flipping out. As if that wasn’t enough to deal with, as we were rushing the kids out of the room, Mweru (our exceptionally spirited, 9 year old, autistic boy) stepped on baby Grace as he slept in his basinet. It was one of those, “really?...really?...what next?” moments. Well, to answer that question, one of the mommas came up to me and said, “Aunty Stacy, aunty Stacy, we need you!”. I rushed behind her into the girls’ bathroom to find it flooded and a large amount of water spewing from the pipe behind the toilet. Naturally, I grabbed the knob and started turning it off, only to realize why the momma’s hadn’t done it themselves…I received a rather large jolt of electricity through my hand and up my arm. Momma Christine chose just that moment after to inform me of that particular problem. I grabbed a towel, turned it completely off and left them to soak up the mess soon after realizing that my help was not needed.
Nam eventually calmed down and agreed to go to the hospital and Jessica and DeAnna brought Grace to the hospital just to be certain. Grace was fine, Nam is not. She came home that night with the antibiotics needed to treat the infection she’s developed from her incision. The last couple days have been busy, a good portion of my day taking the temperatures of each of our kids every few hours and divvying out children’s Tylenol as every single one of them has had a fever of 101° – 104° sometime in the last few days. Although, gratefully, for the most part the bug has not included vomiting and diarrhea, there was one day that I returned to the house after helping feed the youngest and most needy kids with pee on one pant leg and vomit on the other; the joys of cloth diapers and sensitive stomachs.
Things were truly looking up until last night; Nam’s incision started bleeding. The Emily’s rushed her to Al-Shafa yet again to discover that she had developed sepsis and that her infection had gotten much worse and that she will need to be in the hospital for up to 7 days. I had the morning shift today and had the pleasure of standing over her as the doctor came in to clean her incision. They had to reopen the incision, creating a giant gaping wound, to clean out the infection and stuff her abdomen with gauze soaked in iodine. I stood with my hand on her arm while the doctor pulled out the old nasty gauze, cleaned her incision by digging her fingers past an inch of fat into Nam’s belly and stuffed it with fresh gauze before replacing the dressing. Surprisingly, I wasn’t at all grossed out by all this; it was just one more thing that left me wondering, am I really seeing this?
I apologize for these long posts, but there is one more thing I need to share. There is a Ugandan woman, named Angela, whom I met in town the first week that I was here after wandering into the curio shop she works at. After a brief conversation (and the purchase of an adorable set of book ends) I discovered that she was an acquaintance of Emily W. She was incredibly sweet and incredibly pregnant and I suppose we established a connection that day because we have since exchanged cell numbers and I’ve made a habit of stopping in on her almost every time I’m in town. Last week she called me to say that she’d had pain in her stomach but I went to see her a couple days later and she told me the doctor had just given her some pain medication and sent her home. Then a couple days ago I received a text to say that she was having labour pains and to please pray. Yesterday I received a call…an emotional Angela informed me “I’ve lost my baby, Stacy, I’ve lost my baby.” She should have been given a C-section, but they left things too long and a half hour after they could no longer find the heartbeat, she delivered a lifeless baby girl. She asked me to come see her, which of course I agreed to, so this afternoon she sent her young sister on a boda to come meet me at a popular café across the street from her shop and bring me back to her home. After an initial emotional greeting, I was introduced to her three sisters (Joy, Peace and Sharon), her mother and her niece, treasure. We sat together for over an hour while she shared a small picture album and spoke of her life and her family. They were incredibly kind and gracious, insisting that I chose a soda to drink and refused payment despite their modest living, even though it had to be purchased at a small stand just down the road from where they live; they would have fed me too had I not just had lunch in town and declined, respectfully. Her baby, as yet unnamed (though I suggested she name her), has gone with her boyfriend to his family’s village to be buried and they are planning to have a memorial in a month or so when Angela returns from her own mother’s village for some respite. Her boyfriend’s village is a far distance away, but I have assured her I would like to be there for her so I will likely be joining the two of them in a taxi early in November for that little adventure. It was an incredible blessing to be welcomed to her home, though, and I am sure that I will be there again in the future and our friendship will only grow deeper as time goes by.
I could not help but be aware of the fact that the two main parts of my day, though astounding to most, seemed like the most normal things in the world. First, this morning getting up before 7 just as the sun is rising, having a quick bite to eat, making my way through the heavy metal gate, hopping on a boda with a strange man laden with my computer, my bag of things and another bag with Nam’s request of a papaya and a thermos of hot water and riding into town to relieve Jessica from her night shift at Al-Shafa. Then, getting picked up by a young girl on a boda, having no idea where I was going and being welcomed into the home and life of this wonderful Ugandan woman whom I literally met on the street.
What a day.
2 comments:
Wow Stacy, your blogs always leave me feeling overwhelmed. How awful for the woman who lost her baby, I'm glad that you two are friends. Hopefully Nam is well soon.
E.
Again the electricity thing makes me laugh every time. I'm so glad you're sharing the love you have to so many.
C.
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