I love hospitals. I always have. I like the gadgets that doctors and nurses use. I like the sweet beds. I LOVE hospital ice and all the free Jell-O. I also thoroughly enjoy the smell. I don’t like being in the hospital when someone I love is there for a medical reason (I used to work on computers in hospitals).
The last time I was in a hospital for a medical related reason was when I pushed my friend in to a piano in high school – what a friend, eh? He went to the hospital after finding blood in his urine. Once he arrived, they started him on medicine that started giving him seizures. Needless to say, I felt terrible. I think he was in the hospital for a week. Surprisingly, we’re still friends.
Anyway, this time I was in the hospital because one of my friends was having abdominal pain. The first hospital she visited thought it was something to do with her appendix, but it wasn’t. The next hospital thought it was a “girl” problem, but couldn’t prove it without a special surgery that could only be done in Kenya. Her teammates were super stars. They travelled around Kampala with her for a week and half, going to different hospitals, imaging centers, testing locations, and running and getting food for her.
Hospitals in Africa work a bit differently than in America. If you’ve ever been to Africa, you know that everything seems to happen in slow motion. Things never start on time, people are always late, and time seems to be a non-issue for the average African. The hospital is run the same way. One “thing” happens per day – whether it’s an MRI, CT scan, blood work or doctor visit. You are deemed over zealous if you expect more then one activity to take place in the same day. What would take maybe two days in the States takes a week and a half here.
Erin and I travelled to visit and relieve the girls staying in the hospital last week when the girl was first admitted. We couldn’t do much other than encourage them and start praying about what the best course of action would be. After praying and talking with the girls, it was decided that she should wait it out in Kampala.
We came back this week and have been here for the past few days. We came the night before she was supposed to get discharged. The doctor said he would come the next morning and start the one and a half hour process. He never came. The girl was losing hope. She doesn’t like hospitals and wanted to be reunited with her team. He came the next day and said he wouldn’t be able to discharge her because he needed to finish his reports.
Erin and I stopped him and asked him his honest opinion of what needed to happen with the young woman. He told us that she needed to go back to the States. Our hearts sank. We’d been hoping and praying that she would be able to stay on the Race for the last two countries. She was upset. She doesn’t want to go home.
It was rough. I wanted to love her through this and support her as best as I could. I don’t know what His plans are for her and it’s hard to trust Him when the young woman really felt that she should stay. We left her yesterday after he finally discharged her. She’s going to come to debrief and say goodbye to everyone. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to stink for her team. It’s going to be a long and tough plane ride home for her all by herself.
Please pray that the doctors can figure out what’s wrong when she gets home. Please pray that it’s nothing too serious that they can’t fix. Please pray that she has a safe flight, and that God provides peace for her about going home. Pray that she is healed and doesn’t have any more pain.
