The ecstasy and the agony - LORNA

  "Life is never simple...but at least it is interesting. Let me be grateful - for a heart that can rejoice or break, as the case may be." These words from my grandmother's creed have never challenged me as much before as they do now, in Masaka, Uganda. The ecstasy and the agony of life here, must be experienced to be fully understood. And even with my limited practicum experience, my emotions have swung like a pendulum, from one extrreme to another, awakening my understanding in new and provacative ways - life will never look the same to me.
  One of my placements here is at the hospital maternity ward (I will write about the other one in a future post). I  have two supervisor's at the hospital, one a social worker (whom Ive yet to work with) and the other a wonderful, gifted midwife, named Prossy. For this first week, the midwife has thrown me right into the fire, (so to speak), of the realities and struggles the women that attend the hospital experience. For example, on my first full day at maternity, I was being orientated to the special care nursery, the realities of which are heartbreaking in itself, but, when you understand that this meager facility with its one incubator, one oxygen tank ( which by the was is shared with the delivery room if a woman is in crisis) is still more than they've  had before, you begin to be thankful for even the very small things. On this particular day, we were just leaving the unit when I looked down on the ground and noticed a $1000shilling note, a significant amount of money for people here, (the equivalent of about 50 cents for us). I picked it up and asked Prossy what or who I should give it to. She said, "look around, how could you know, it could belong to anyone" and then she pointed to an elderl lady that had just come out of the door behind us: "there, give it to her, she is very poor,"and so I did. Prossy could have just taken the money herself, but as Ive come to realize in this very short time training with her, Prossy is a giver, not a taker. About one hour later, a baby came into the special care nursery in great distress and in order for him to survive, the message was sent to the mother that she had to purchase a cathedar for the IV so he could receive fluids and meds (yes, they have to purchase it!).
  The waiting was agonizing for me: surely the life of this child was more important than the cost of one cathedar ($1000sh) but as tempted as I was to just buy it myself, the supervisor cautioned me that I would not be able to privide for all, and that not only would my finances by potentially drained with the needs there, but also my emotions if I had to pick and choose who received help and who didnt. Just then, to my relief, the cathedar arrived. Prossy instructed me to assist her (yikes, I am not a nurse but she needed help and the baby couldnt wait for someone else). He now stood a chance of survival! I was feeling relieved and happy when just then, the grandmother, the very same elderly woman I had previously given the $1000sh to, walked into the special care nursery. She came over to the baby and was overjoyed to see that he seemed to be doing well. I felt overwhelmed! The realization that this family would never of had money to buy that cathedar, if not by that chance meeting earlier, hit me! Such ecstasy! Her and I celebrated using our only means of communication, the joy on our faces!
  Later that day the celebratory atmosphere was to come to an abrupt stop for me. Another baby, just as deserving as the one previously, was in distress. He was provided with the needed cathedar, but the mother had arrived to the hospital too late, having delivered a complicated birth along the roadside during a 40km walk to the hospital. Her attendants had been with her, (attendants could be midwifes, friends, family or both) but, as Prossy pointed out, this baby had experienced brain damage and the distress caused during the difficult birth was to much for him. Although we had resuscitated him at least five times, given him oxygen, the necessary and even expensive medications ($10,000sh), for this little boy, it was to late. The baby was wrapped and prepared to give back to the attendants to carry back home, the 40kms after which they would return to inform the mother (if) she survived to return to her village. I asked why we had to wait to tell her? Prossy said "because the wailing would be too much and she is very sick and needs her strength to survive," They would only inform the mother if she recovered enough to ask to see her baby before the attendants returned.
  The AGONY was almost unbearable. I knew I had to fight the tears as I had been informed that the woman were watching me. "Dont cry Lorna, they will think you did something wrong or are guilty." I held it together as best as I could, tears welling up in my eyes, yet a few escaped down my cheeks. Sorry for your loss - "BAMBI" as they say here in Uganda.The reality of life here in Uganda for these women, was just starting to hit me. I have so much to learn and so much to be thankful for. The ecstasy and the agony of life in Uganda is etching its place in my mind, body and spirit. What I've already learned here, in this short time will forever change me and the way I view life and the world we live in. It seems so unfair! I am reminded that we should never take for granted the supports we have - especially the medical system, that we have in Canada.