Trouble in Paradise

Tuesday, April 27

While I’m still sitting in a luxurious first world Western home with air conditioning, refrigeration, television, and hot water, I had what I would call a bad day. Worse, I’m afraid I didn’t handle the day’s disappointments with the grace of God. The plan included two simple things: get to my “Rapid PCR Covid test” appointment, and wash and pack the laundry.

Everything is worse when there is disharmony at home, and we struck a sour chord the echo of which is still ringing. With the bitter taste of disappointment already on my palate, I arrived at the Walgreens drive-through for my Covid test, only to find it was not the PCR test required by the Ugandan government. Since most PCR tests take three to five days to result, and mine must be no older than 120 hours when I arrive, my choices were limited. Online, I found grand promises, but each resulted in more disappointment. Since I am not too proud to ask directions, I called the local Travel Clinic for advice. I was informed that, while the Regency Square testing site states their PCR test can take three to five days, it usually results in two. I got that test done in just a few moments, and was promised a result in two to three days.

Not satisfied, I searched and found a local private lab that would do a PCR test. Doubling up increases my chances of one resulting in time, so I crossed town again to get that done. I was told that test result should be available “tomorrow,” so I had to confirm it was actually a PCR test and not an antigen test. First negative result wins.

The laundry had to be washed and dried before it could be treated with insect repellent, and by this time I was nearly out of daylight. I had enough solution to treat my pants, socks, and most of two shirts, so I packed everything else while I waited for the treatment to line-dry.

The 50-pound limit for my single suitcase made packing quite a puzzle. I have a carry-on backpack that contains my technical gear, but after I got all the weight figured out, I turned around and saw I had neglected to pack my nursing gear. It’s not much, but you can’t carry on shears, forceps, and some of the other tools I use, so I had to swap, pound-for-pound, everything I put in the suitcase. Answer: one “personal item.” Ladies carry purses. I’ve got a messenger bag with five pounds of clothes, my stethoscope, and other miscellany. The five pounds of clothes I chose are too important to shed if I get in trouble at the gate, but would suffice if something bad happened to my suitcase.

Overall, the day was disappointing but God provided a way when I saw no way. I’m sure I’ll look back at this post later and say something like, “Ah, first-world troubles.” I'm on the verge of launching, and I guess it's normal to be a little anxious at the edge of such a high dive.