This week at the clinic

My first week at the PMI clinic was busy and exciting and exhausting and foreign! My day started at 800am on Monday with morning worship and a staff meeting with the entire staff. I am surprised by this as the clinic opens at 900am. I met Alex, the clinical officer, nursing staff, and administrators. They made me feel welcomed to the clinic, and I had this sense that they were family to each other. I hoped that they would be family to me over the next month. The week has proven that they are.

We saw over 50 patients on Monday and a daily average of 20 the rest of the week. There is a variety of patients here, and most come dressed in their best clothing to be seen at the clinic. The people show respect to dress in their nicest attire. Every patient is smiling when I am greeted. They smile though the pain. Through disease. Through their poverty. This is the most foreign aspect to me.

Working alongside Alex, I learned and saw so many things. Whether I wanted to or not. For example, one of the first patients of the week was Edward, a 4 year old, with third degree burns from his toes to shins from walking into a cooking fire while his mother's back was turned. Man die and Rachel have told me about him and have taken care of him every day for three weeks. I have read Man die's blog. I know the case. They explain how much better he is, and I believe them. I believe them until his bandages come off. After dressing his burns with Man die and Rachel, I leave the nursing room confident that this is why PMI has built this hospital. Edward's life was with no shadow of a doubt saved because of the clinic's existence! He is why we built this place. It only took me an hour to see the impact!

I am learning that medicine in Uganda is a sensitive, multi-variables balance. One case is a common ear infection. Easy. I can “fix” that. The next case is trying to decipher between typhoid, malaria, HIV and brucellosis. Brucellosis is what, I ask. Alex explains as I thumb through a medical dictionary. You also have to take into consideration that there are pharmacies here where people can buy any pharmaceutical drug they want. Most people who have a fever take an anti-malarial drug without a secure diagnosis, and Alex softly advises against doing this. Resistance to some anti-malarial exists already, and it will get worse. The teenager goes to the lab, and he is diagnosed with brucellosis. The treatment is doxycline and ciprofloxacin. Alex writes for it, and I discuss the risk of ciprofloxcin in patients younger than 18. We write a different prescription that will be safe for the boy. It is a frustrating joint effort, but we are able to be open and encouraging to the other. We are a team. On both sides, the learning curve is enormous.

At the end of each day this week, I am tired and discouraged. This is harder that I could have ever imagined. I am reminded of how good it is, though. The people are good. The landscape is breath-taking. The colors are rich. The feeling of family is felt. The laughter is abundant. There is hope. That is the biggest thing, in my opinion. The clinic will be a place where healing and teaching will happen. This will take time, volunteers, funding, patience, and so many other things. Overall, all we need is time.



"Hope is the thing with feathers,
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all."
-Emily Dickinson