laughter and tears..

phew. I dont even know where to start. Life on the island has been full of laughter, tears, blood, needles, sickness, healing, singing, smiles, good times, bad times...

  The last few weeks have not been easy. The Ugandan nurse that is our clinical leader has tested my ability to be patient and communicate in love. Basically we disagree on how to treat just about every patient. Even the patients disagree with me at times. I can explain myself again and again but it just doesnt seem to connect. I know it is a lack of education so I have to have patience and be willing to teach, again and again. For example, they want an antibiotic shot for a viral cold, or malaria meds for dehydration.

There havnt been any babies this past week but I've been able to suture two somewhat difficult lacs. While I was suturing a guys finger, one of the nurses was over my shoulder shouting about what I should or shouldnt do. She was totally wrong. I explained to her multiple times why I was doing it that way. But no, it just turned into an argument. I have been struggling with knowing when to speak up and when to hold back. It is not easy either way.

Someone told me I needed to write about the first Ugandan birth I helped with. I didnt write about it at first because I dont want people to think of the Islanders as less than people but it is simply a lack of Biblical teaching in their life.
The 18 year old girl had been in labor all day. The water had been broken about 6 hours. She was in a small mud hut used for cooking. There were more than a dozen women gathered around. Most of them were grabbing the woman, pulling at her legs and arms, slapping her, gagging her, and yelling. Im sure that I looked funny with my eyes wide and mouth dropped open in absolute shock. Its hard enough having a baby without being hit or gagged. When the beautiful baby boy was born there was no suction, blanket, warmer, or even clean cord clamps. Not even 30 minutes later they were demanding that it was time for the patient to leave. She got up and walked to a small boat, climbed in and started drinking a Cocacola. The next time I hear an American woman complain about labor..

  One of the biggest blessings during my time here has been getting to know Pastor Samson's wife, Joy. Her name explains her perfectly. She works hard, has little, but loves a lot. She always has an extra bed for the homeless, a place at the table for the hungry, and the love of Jesus for the brokenhearted. She has to bake cupcakes over a fire multiple times a week to make money for the kids school fees. Her husband, Pastor Samson, is a days travel away in Kampala going to University. She has a couple of extra kids living with her because their father left them and their mother has AIDS. I could go on and on about all that she does, but she does it all with laughter and love.

Thank you for all of your  encouraging notes. I know you guys are praying so thank you a million!

I will try to blog more tomorrow.

Love!
Karina