I just read a post on Facebook from someone complaining of
an aspect of healthcare in America. The post helped reveal to me my own heart and thoughts on healthcare and also showed me how ungrateful I’ve been
because I’ve done the same about our healthcare back home (complained).
After working at the hospital here for the last 8 weeks, I’ve
been humbled with the realization that I have no right to complain. I have no
right to complain about how “good” we have it back at home.
My internship at Jinja Main Hospital has broken and burdened
my heart for the healthcare here. These
people have every right to complain but they don’t/can’t and that is why my
heart breaks for them.
My heart breaks for the families not having the option to put
their loved ones on oxygen. It breaks for all wounds I had to dress on patients' who
screamed in pain because of lack of pain medication. It breaks for the MONTHS
of waiting to perform a simple surgery on a child who eventually developed other
health issues during the delay. It breaks for the poverty that denies people
from treatment. It breaks for the fact that we have to tell our patients to go
buy IV cannulas, medications, dressings, supplies and syringes. It breaks for the delayed care that
many die from (and it’s too late when you try to correct the care that was
delayed that could’ve possibly prevented a death). It breaks for the fact that
patients cannot even get an accurate diagnosis because they can’t get an x-ray
or scan. It breaks for the misdiagnosis and missed treatments. It breaks for the malnourishment ward where the children stare at you with their huge haunting eyes. It breaks for the anemic kids who cannot receive blood because there's a shortage. It breaks for
the fact that mothers have held their child while waiting in the emergency
line to see a doctor only to realize that their child stopped breathing in
their arms (and not having the equipment on you to try to revive them). It
breaks for the fact that people go to witch doctors first instead of thinking
of going to the hospital, believing they can find better treatment with the
witch doctors (and then seeing the marks on the child from the witch doctors when
the family eventually brings them in). It
breaks knowing that children are being sent home very unstable—and even hearing
a Ugandan nurse state that they are being “sent home to die”. It breaks for the fact that when you attempted
to save a baby's life (and they actually survive!!) you know that it would be
a struggle to keep them alive when you leave at the end of the day (&
coming back the next day in hopes that they are alive only to realize that they
ended up dying). It breaks for the fact
that a ward was even nicknamed “the death ward” because of the high mortality
rate. It breaks for the fact that people fear going into the hospital because
they associate the hospital with death. It breaks because as a nurse I know the
physical care these people need yet cannot provide it for them.
& It breaks my heart that I’ve been told many times by Ugandan health workers that healthcare is
this way merely because “this is Africa”.
It’s bittersweet ending my internship tomorrow at the
hospital. It’s hard leaving when you know what you are leaving and wishing you
could physically do more. Sadly, ignorance really is bliss, but seeing all this
helped me realize how thankful I should be and also how God is a good God and
He can do anything in Uganda. so Pray for Uganda.
