Ugandan Trip Journal, May 6, 2013
Monday, May 6, 2013
We needed to return to IOM to have W--'s tuberculosis test on his arm read. We had a little hint of anxiety about the medical check up, with W--'s ankle still looking a little yucky. At 6:30 a.m., amidst the Ugandan downpour, we sloshed through the mud to Rashid's Land Rover. Scott, W--, Lisa, her daughter, and I all slid into the car, drenched and covered in mud. It was such a blessing, though, to arrive at IOM before the masses of others poured in. We were the first ones in the door, and even the receptionist and the staff were not yet in their places, though the door was unlocked.
The sweetest African doctor sat before us to check W--. "I'll need you to take his clothes off, and set him on the table," she directed. As we started to take his clothes off, he screamed. "That's fine," she said kindly, "He can leave his clothes on." We went to take him to the table. More screaming. "That's fine," she said. "I'll come to him." She squeezed in between her desk and the chairs where we waited, and set about examining him. He allowed her to listen to his heart and his lungs. She handled him gingerly, barely touching him, speaking soothing tones to his tender ears. We marvel that someone who sees scores of cases each day, in such a stressful environment, remains so patient and unaffected. What a sweet gift to all the patients who pass through there.
We were so quick in that trip, we returned to the guesthouse by 10:00, and were even able to get W-- an almost three-hour nap before lunch.
By the afternoon, Scott and I were ready to venture out on a little walk down the road. As we came back up towards the house, Scott remarked repeatedly about wanting to see a monkey, as I had the day before at Joy's house. And then W-- started squealing something that sounded like, "Uncle Sheema!" We looked where he pointed, and there was a monkey hopping about the road. As we got closer, he skittered into the nearest tree, where we snapped pictures of him. For us Americans, it's a special treat to see something in front of us that we only otherwise see in captivity.
Back in our room, W-- started exclaiming, "Daddy, dadd-dy!" in regards to Scott. We, of course, responded with great enthusiasm. W-- popped out all kinds of English words during the day, from, "Go potty," to ",We like it," to, "Okay." He is such a fluent Luganda speaker, that we know it's just a matter of time before he's an English chatterer. We'd love for him to retain his Luganda, but we have such limited ability to speak it with him.
Bedtime was painful, with W-- being so tired (even after that super nap!) that it took at least 30 minutes of crying to get him down. Two steps forward, one step back, but grace for the journey. Thanks be to God!
We needed to return to IOM to have W--'s tuberculosis test on his arm read. We had a little hint of anxiety about the medical check up, with W--'s ankle still looking a little yucky. At 6:30 a.m., amidst the Ugandan downpour, we sloshed through the mud to Rashid's Land Rover. Scott, W--, Lisa, her daughter, and I all slid into the car, drenched and covered in mud. It was such a blessing, though, to arrive at IOM before the masses of others poured in. We were the first ones in the door, and even the receptionist and the staff were not yet in their places, though the door was unlocked.
The sweetest African doctor sat before us to check W--. "I'll need you to take his clothes off, and set him on the table," she directed. As we started to take his clothes off, he screamed. "That's fine," she said kindly, "He can leave his clothes on." We went to take him to the table. More screaming. "That's fine," she said. "I'll come to him." She squeezed in between her desk and the chairs where we waited, and set about examining him. He allowed her to listen to his heart and his lungs. She handled him gingerly, barely touching him, speaking soothing tones to his tender ears. We marvel that someone who sees scores of cases each day, in such a stressful environment, remains so patient and unaffected. What a sweet gift to all the patients who pass through there.
We were so quick in that trip, we returned to the guesthouse by 10:00, and were even able to get W-- an almost three-hour nap before lunch.
By the afternoon, Scott and I were ready to venture out on a little walk down the road. As we came back up towards the house, Scott remarked repeatedly about wanting to see a monkey, as I had the day before at Joy's house. And then W-- started squealing something that sounded like, "Uncle Sheema!" We looked where he pointed, and there was a monkey hopping about the road. As we got closer, he skittered into the nearest tree, where we snapped pictures of him. For us Americans, it's a special treat to see something in front of us that we only otherwise see in captivity.
Back in our room, W-- started exclaiming, "Daddy, dadd-dy!" in regards to Scott. We, of course, responded with great enthusiasm. W-- popped out all kinds of English words during the day, from, "Go potty," to ",We like it," to, "Okay." He is such a fluent Luganda speaker, that we know it's just a matter of time before he's an English chatterer. We'd love for him to retain his Luganda, but we have such limited ability to speak it with him.
Bedtime was painful, with W-- being so tired (even after that super nap!) that it took at least 30 minutes of crying to get him down. Two steps forward, one step back, but grace for the journey. Thanks be to God!
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