Showing posts with label fatigue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fatigue. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Closing thoughts: Learning to Fly

This is what I learned from my trip to Africa.  There was great, there was good and there was the heartbreaking.  But I'm learning to fly.  I'm earning my wings. 

Thanks for taking the ride with me.  LG 




Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers live from Bonnaroo 2006


Learning to Fly

Well I started out down a dirty road
Started out all alone
And the sun went down as I crossed the hill
And the town lit up, the world got still

I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings
Coming down is the hardest thing

Well the good ol' days may not return
And the rocks might melt and the sea may burn

I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings
Coming down is the hardest thing

Well some say life will beat you down
Break your heart, steal your crown
So I've started out for God knows where
I guess I'll know when I get there

I'm learning to fly, around the clouds
But what goes up must come down

I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings
Coming down is the hardest thing



Monday, March 16, 2015

Everybody has their own NGO

Absolutely every single person in Africa has their own NGO.  And absolutely every single one of those people wants you to hear about their "program".

There is a neighborhood drunk where I work named "Sam".  A couple of weeks ago while I was buying a bottle of water, he accosted me with his "program".  Everyone with an NGO feels they MUST tell ME about their "program" every time they see me.

The basic tenets of Sam's particular "program" are as follows:

1) To remain drunk at all times;
2) To "do something" for the youth of Kenya/Africa while remaining drunk 24/7;
3) To "do something" for the youth of Kenya/Africa who suffer directly or indirectly from the scourge that is HIV/AIDS while remaining drunk 24/7;
4) To "do something" for the orphans and other vulnerable populations in Kenya/Africa while remaining drunk 24/7;
and
5) For me to finance all of the above, most particularly the portions of these programs that will allow Sam to remain drunk 24/7.

Nope, I'm not the least bit cynical today.  This post is dedicated to Perfesser Kevin Hill, Florida International University


Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Fatigue of the Soul

I've been in Eastern Uganda for about 3, or is it 4, months now and I love actually helping people in tangible ways.  Most of the help I give has nothing to do with crochet or selling crochet.  Most of it is health care assistance.

For example, a few Sundays ago I was taking my usual Sunday afternoon stroll around Kapuwai with my friend Christine.  Suddenly this 60ish looking woman comes running after us yelling at me to get my attention.  Of course she's yelling in Ateso so it's a good thing Christine is there to translate.  Christine barely gets out of her mouth that the woman wants me to help her (medically) and then the woman is showing us her right breast.  It is entirely withered and discolored, nipple and all.

A bit of personal history here -- my mother's sister, my aunt Frances, was probably a paranoid schizophrenic.  She was unmedicated all her life and since she was born in the early 30s, there was no such thing as mental health care.  She struggled all her life just to find a place where she and her only daughter Sherry could sleep every night.  She couldn't hold a job obviously.  When I was barely 18, Frances was told that she had advanced breast cancer.  She had no job and no one in the family had the means to get her treated.  During her last two months of life, she lived in a boarding house in my hometown.  One day when the weather was exceptionally beautiful, my mother received a call from the local EMS that Frances was locked in her room at the boarding house and was unresponsive.  They were calling in the hope my mother had an extra key.  We immediately went to Frances's little room to see if the sound of familiar voices might rouse her somewhat.  We tried and tried.  Finally, one of the EMS guys had the idea to jimmy open the window and have me crawl in (I was only 108 lbsf then).  I went in and found her barely breathing.  Her blouse was open and I saw her cancerous breast.  We took her to the hospital and she only lived about 18 hours more.

Until that walk with Christine, I had NEVER seen another case of breast cancer that was like what my aunt Frances had.  It was as if it were flesh eating.  

I held my emotions in check and told the woman (I'll call her Trisha) that I was not a doctor, but I could certainly help her get to a doctor to find out what was wrong.  I told her that I thought it was very, very serious and that when Edward Kedi (my right arm in Uganda) came to take her to the doctor, she must stop EVERYTHING and go with him immediately.

On Monday, Edward took Trisha to the clinic at the Pallisa General Hospital.  She saw a doctor and the doctor ordered many tests in addition to his examination.  By the end of the day, Edward and Trisha had the results of the tests, but they were not what I expected because they had nothing to do with the condition of her breast.

Tricia was now a PLWHA in international development speak:  She had HIV/AIDS and her t-cell count was horrible (Person Living With HIV/AIDS).

Because I had to be in another part of the district that Monday, Edward told Tricia her results because for some stupid reason doctors here don't want to tell old women they are dying of AIDS.  The doctor said Tricia and her husband had to come in for joint counseling right away.  They immediately put Tricia on a drug cocktail for HIV/AIDS.  In Uganda, the drugs for AIDS are free, but the ARV's and the ARC drugs aren't free or even discounted.  

"Tricia" at my apartment after the news

Wednesday morning of that week, Tricia came to see me to, get this, thank me for helping her find out what was wrong.  I cried and like all Ugandans she said "Don't cry.  We all have to go home sometime".  She brought me a rooster as a thank you gift.  

As soon as Tricia left my apartment, I packed and took Christine to Pallisa General to get better and maybe have her baby.  No time for tears or regrets.  The urgent things come at you faster than ought to be possible.

Pray for Tricia.  Pray for me that I'll stop hating her husband for doing this to her.  Pray that I have what it takes to continue this kind of work.  It's got to be done and I'm willing to do it.

Namaste.