Nurse Kate

My team laughs because it seems we have all acquired new names since arriving in Uganda.  The kids have the hardest time saying Mallory's name, so she is usually Maria or Mary.  They don't have the name Katie here, so I have been abbreviated to just Kate. Or, Nurse.  I feel convicted this early AM that I haven't been writting enough about the medical side of things here.  I think that my lack of this is mainly due to long days, so many things to say, and my weak brain not being able to get it all out.  But, God has really slammed it on my heart that you need to know.  And, though it takes a lot for me to cry or get upset during medical each day, my heart needs to pour out.  In the most famous words of my mom, Janice Carroll Cartwright- "If you don't cry every now and then, you'll pee your pants."  And let's face it, I don't want to pee my pants, especially in a country with lack of public restroom availability.

With my last post I told you me and Mallory are combining blogs because we think it to be easier, and we need to help each other get out thoughts sometimes, so you can find that link in my last post.  So it looks like the Field is going to be more dedicated to my nursing experiences.  So here it goes.  :)

I remember the first day of setting up my little make-shift clinic in the open field on Buganda rd.  I hung my med bag on a branch so it wouldn't get muddy (darn rainy season), used the available tree stump as my exam chair/table and got to work.  A lot of the kids recognized me as the nurse from last time in late December.  The line escalated pretty fast from a few to around 25-30 kids circled around me.

Since the first day, things have changed a bit.  I now have a fancy fold out table (about 10x8), and even a small bench to sit on.  I have also implemented orange cones around my tree stump to function as the "waiting room," and our lovely friend/translator helps put name tags on the boys so I can know who has been seen, and who hasn't (still working on good documentation of course...haha.)

There are some things that have stayed the same however.  I am without a doubt the most Lugandan challenged person on our team.  Maybe it's the TN accent I'm really not sure, but the language here is something that is going to take more work than what I have been putting in.  Some phrases that I have found especially helpful to memorize in Lugandan (I have put them in order of importance):
1) NO!
2) Don't touch that!
3) Show me your wound.
4)  What's your name?
5) This is going to sting a bit...
6) Can you try to keep this clean and dry until I see you again?
7) Wait your turn.
8)  I'm sorry.
9)  Does that hurt?
10)  Do you have a cough?

There are definitely more to learn, and even these I butcher terribly and Maria (our translator) laughs at me and then really says it.  Each day I see more and more old wounds, for some I have seen improvement, and for others...Well, we are working on it.  The biggest issue is dirty living conditions, because even if it is washed and cleaned well, as soon as I can get the dressing on they head back to the streets where there is no lack of dirt, clouds of exhaust, and trash.  For every infected wound there is a child with a horrible cough and fever.  Which could be a lot of things couldn't it? For some we have taken to a clinic to be tested for malaria (which is always positive-not sure if that is really positive or just bad testing), for others they just have the flu, and for others I fear worse.  I have my supply of Tylenol and cool, wet rags, and prayer, and as of yet that is my treatment.  Sometimes, there are children that are seriously ill from sniffing the ever-popular oil on rags.  They do this because it is available to them at very cheap prices (about 1/2 a morning of collecting scrap metal can get them enough money to buy a supply), not to mention marijuana is cheap and available here.  Sure, some of the kids could use what little money they make to buy food, but for some they aren't interested in living that much longer.  Last Sunday afternoon, a small boy was vomiting green bile, and shaking.  This is the one of the first times I thought a patient was going to die right there in front of me.  I just prayed over and over that this wouldn't be he last resting place.  This small plot of land in front of a burning trash heap.  We found out he was just on too many chemicals, and we re-hydrated him and found a cool place for him to rest.  Within hours he was better. Unfortunately, the next week we found him high again.

For every discouraging thing that happens there are always many more miracles to outnumber it.  Like the street boy that helps me with medical because he wants to be a doctor some day, or the kids that run into my arms as soon as we get into the slums, or the 14 year old street boy that prays with the passion of the apostles  we read about.

So, to rap up- I know there are more things to be done, more efficient ways to take care of these kids, and more knowledge to soak up.   Each day I ask God for His Spirit to guide me, because He is the only One that can.  For the first time I am learning what it means to "fully rely on God."  It's challenging and refreshing.  It's like each day I'm becoming who God intended me to be.

So, if you are keeping up with us, thanks.  Thanks for praying.  I pray that the stories of these kids ignite something inside of each of you. Because, once that happens there is no stopping it.