Tag Archives: missionary nurisng

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Tuesday, 28 September 2021

When one goes to bed before dusk one often rises before dawn, and such was the case with me today. Since I was up in time for it, I decided to go to the hospital to join the staff for morning devotion. I would also check on Janet while I was there.

With only the clothes that had been on my back, I went to the hospital. It was quite a warm reception again, since many present had not seen me the day before. Sister Sophie, the Primary Nursing Officer (PNO) had me address the group and, after devotions, asked me to teach a segment the next day. Here Wednesdays are for continuing education. When I was just about to head back home for rest and proper clothes washing, Sophie rearranged the nursing assignments and put me and Charge Nurse Miriam on the General Ward. Just like that, I was back at work.

There are currently two wards at RG Hospital: the Maternity ward and the one for everything else. The General Ward is the ER, the Medical-Surgical Department, Pediatrics, and the ICU all rolled into one. I was pleased to be of service. God blessed me with an easy adjustment period since, except for discharging seven patients, there was little to do. It was a joy catching up with my friend, Miriam. There was one funny thing — the patients and their attending family members who were present when I arrived, observed the warm welcome I received and apparently thought I was some sort of celebrity. This was evidenced by several of the parents who encouraged their children to “go and see Mucungwa.” I felt like Santa Claus visiting a department store.

I learned something I did not know about the nurses at RG — they are all Certificate Nurses, similar to our LPN (Licensed Practical Nurse). From that level, they can study to become a Diploma Nurse, like our associate degreed RN (Registered Nurse), and later a Graduate Nurse, like our BSN designated RNs who hold a Bachelor’s of Science in Nursing. This would mean little to anyone not in the nursing field, but I found it interesting, since I have witnessed these RG Nurses perform tasks that would baffle a lot of American nurses.

I took lunch with Miriam as I generally do when it is provided for the working nurses. On my last visit, taking lunch with the nurses is one of the things that endeared them most to me. I tried to explain that since I am gaining so much weight, I need to eat less sugar and carbs, but I nearly hurt her feelings declining food, so I ate my beans and small fish (dried minnows) with posho (moistened corn flour).

When work was done, Miriam introduced me to her husband who lives in Fort Portal, a major city to the west. Here, it is normal for families to live wherever the work is, and Derrick is a soldier, so he lives where the Army tells him to. He seemed a decent fellow, and it was a pleasure to finally meet him.

At the nurse’s residence, I was greeted by the children, most of whom recognized Mucungwa, a few with great exuberance. The most excited to see me was three-year-old Precious, the daughter of Scovia Susan, whom I also got to greet for the first time since I left. I get high fives and bonga (fist bump) from most kids, but Precious leapt into my arms and hugged me like a long lost relative. Scovia Susan said she talks about me all the time. What a treat to hear such a thing!

Patrick walked me to his garden, which I still insist is a small farm, and he took great joy in showing me what his constant hard work has done. He had corn, G-nuts (like peanuts but smaller), cassava (yuca), sweet potatoes, and tomatoes. He was justifiably proud of his work, and I was honored he chose to share it with me.

When I finally made it back to Team House to rest in front of the fan, I heard a small voice calling “hello” from the front porch. Prisca had come for a visit. We sat out on the porch, and talked, and were soon joined by Shalom, K-Morris, and another girl whose name I could not hear. They chatted me up until about 6pm, when they went to football practice and I went to bed. Just before midnight I rose and found dinner getting cold on the table, so I heated some up in a pan and enjoyed a late supper.

I still had to think about what to teach in the morning. Dr. Tim McCall, the founder and CEO of this place, recently asked me to teach about compassionate care, so I decided to do that. With no resources or references, thought I would wing it from memory. God please give me words to say!

Wednesday, 29 September 2021

Today it was up to me to bring the continuing education unit for the week, but I was only told of this assignment yesterday, so I threw together a segment on Compassionate Care, a subject dear to me, and one which Dr. Tim McCall, the CEO of RG had once asked me to teach. It went well overall.

I started by saying that I have too much to learn from everyone in attendance to “teach,” but would, instead, remind us all of some principles on which everyone in healthcare (and anywhere else, for that matter) can always improve. I reminded the staff that our value does not come from how much we make, acknowledging that the salaries of the staff here certainly are insufficient, but from whose we are. When we acknowledge that our Creator found us worth dying for, we must extrapolate that out to recognize our patients (or whomever we are dealing with) has the same value. I described the human body in scientific terms as more than just one miracle, but several billion miracles per second. When one addresses another as a fellow creature of God who found us all worth during for, and as several billions of miracles per minute, it is hard to see them merely as a bed number or passerby. I discussed quality of care, but that would bore most of you, except to say that people care far less about what you know or do than they care about how you made them feel (a paraphrase from both Saint Teresa of Calcutta and Maya Angelou). When my talk was over, Sophie, the PNO, said she wished she could have recorded it just to play it back again at another time.

I worked the rest of the day shift with Miriam. After we discharged the last patient on the unit, and I thought we might have some down time, I served the beans and posho. Just then two new patients came in, and we were forced to leave our lunch to get cold while we attended them. One needed an emergent blood transfusion and the other emergency antibiotics and fluids.

After work, I stopped by the Cessnun’s residence and had a nice chat with Maryanne and the kids. I always feel at home there.

Afterward, I went to the library and was met by several of the adult RG “kids” who escorted me to the bins of donated items, where they tried to help me find clothes that would tide me over until my luggage arrives. It was a lovely but futile effort. No Ugandan is this overweight!

At their invitation, I had dinner with Dr. Tim and Mama Janice McCall. They told me no one had ever made such an immediate impression or been so loved as I was on my previous visit. What an honor!

Thursday, 30 September 2021

I got up before the chickens this morning and joined the men on the procurement run to Gulu, the major city in the north region of Uganda. I got to know the truck driver, Alex, fairly well since we sat together most of the day, waiting for James, the procurement specialist, to run his errands and get RG’s payment verified before the vendor would begin loading our truck.

First, though, Alex took me to a men’s clothing store where I tried to find some temporary clothes for a jumbo American. It didn’t work out so well, but I did manage to get a hat, which is kind of a must for a fair-skinned moono (white person), and sandals, which are handy since shoes are not worn inside a Ugandan house, and lacing sneakers every time I go in and out is tedious.

One of our responsibilities was to bring back a large supply of cut up chicken for a banquet honoring the hospital and security staff tonight. We missed our mark waiting for the check to clear, but returned to RG at 4:30. There was barely enough time for the kitchen staff to cook the chicken before our banquet, which turned out lovely anyway.

At the banquet, I was asked to both open and close in prayer. It is nice to be called to participate in this way. I am seen by some as a nurse, a doctor by others, and a pastor by still others. I try to make the most of whatever situation I am in for God’s glory.

Friday, 1 October 2021

Today I went to work on the General Ward, which was again full, though it was empty just two days before. I administered blood transfusions and loved on as many patients as possible, even though language is a challenge. When I speak Acholi, often the locals break out into laughter, not because I am doing it wrong, but because they are so amused that a moono (white person) would know their language.

I got to hold a hand and share caring words with one particular patient who will soon have a difficult time facing her condition and bearing the stigma it carries. It grieves me to know what lies ahead for her, but she heard that she is loved, and that her Creator thinks she is worth dying for, and for that, I am glad I was there.

When I arrived home to Team House, it quickly filled with adult RG kids, who are like family to me. I ran them off at 5:00 so I could return to the hospital side of the compound, where I had been invited to the home of my good friend, Patrick, and his family: Nancy (aka Mama Jerome), Jerome, and Ethan. When a Ugandan family puts food before you, it is insulting not to eat it, and Patrick was ruthless in reminding me of this. I was forced by this unsympathetic tradition to eat too much of my favorite treat — labolo kii odi (that is bananas with g-nut sauce). Mama Jerome also served passion fruit juice, which may be my new favorite beverage.

Before I left, I was presented with an artist’s rendering of Cindy and me, taken from a picture of us we snapped when I returned from Uganda last time. To think that this precious family would sacrifice what it took to have that done, when just feeding their family takes so much hard work, was just heart-warning. When I sent a photo of the mounted canvass to Cindy, she cried, perfectly capturing how I felt too.

Saturday, 2 October 2021

Today I slept in and it felt great! I donned some big-boy scrubs I borrowed from the surgical theatre and went about as though it was normal to parade around in pajamas.

My friend, Nancy Cardoza, a missionary to Uganda from Worcester, Massachusetts, came down from Gulu to visit me and we spent most of the late morning and early afternoon together. We toured RG and, since Nancy’s specialty is beekeeping, we paid special attention to the bee apiary at RG’s agricultural center. My dear friend Prisca, who is terrified of bees, was our guide, but since she ran away screaming and swatting the air as we approached the hives, we were left to do a self-guided tour.

After seeing just about all there is to see here, we enjoyed a nice lunch at the hospital restaurant. The menu was local fare: red beans, bo (a boiled green), and sweet potatoes (which are white and dry here, not like the moist orange ones in America). Nancy taught me to apply odi (g-nut paste) to the greens, which turned out much better than it sounds.

Almost all of RG left the compound today for a football match (soccer game) in the nearby town of Karuma, about 5 km (3 miles) up the road. When we saw the boys get off the bus we could tell they lost by the way they carried themselves. Rumor confirmed it, 2 to 1. When Janet returned from Karuma, she brought me an armload of cassava (yuca root), which we prepared as chips (fries) and shared with everyone watching the Premier League match that night. I stayed to cheer on Arsenal, my second favorite team, but since Liverpool wasn’t playing I left the scoreless match at the 45 minute mark.

I wish I could describe how amazing it is to recognize that the people to whom I have tried so hard to demonstrate real love apparently feel it and share it back. God is glorified, and a few of these fatherless kids get to know what it is like to be cared for.

Oh. Update on my lost luggage: It should be here tomorrow. Today I heard from the driver bringing it, and he asked me if I would rather receive it tomorrow or the next day. I told him I had no clothes or medicine, and he agreed to bring it tomorrow. That was nice. Don’t you think?

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Getting there

Friday, 24 September 2021

This should have been day two, but my favorite airline coupled with JetBlue, who delayed six times then cancelled my flight Thursday. When the JetBlue folks saw I had cargo bags to check, they politely informed me it would cost $1,000 to ship them rather than the $500 I had budgeted. Cindy and I busied ourselves in the airport lobby, sorting the clothes we had picked for the kids at RG, eliminating the least valuable half and fitting the most valuable into two bags of less than 50 pounds. During this pandemic, airlines are apparently making up lost airfares with insane baggage fees. After all that sorting, we were still sent home to wait for the another flight that would connect, but would depart one day late.

Tonight, however, we have the same problem. My connecting flight leaves JFK at 10:30, so my delayed JAX flight that won’t leave til 9:30, will never make it in time. I was encouraged to make the flight I can make and work out the resolution in New York. It means spending the night in JFK, but at least I’m on the way.

I’m getting nervous though, because my Covid test hasn’t resulted yet, and I should have paper proof of results to get aboard the international flight. I hope it results while I’m at JFK, and I can find a printer.

Sharlene “Shar” Davis, at the Just Ask desk at JFK helped me when no one else seemed able. The only solution for my missed connection was a flight 24 hours later. I was told my luggage would meet me, but that, just to be safe, I should go to Terminal One to be sure they make it to Terminal Eight, where I would depart to Doha, Qatar.

I decided to get a hotel, and was directed to the Air Train, which took me to Federal Circle, the hub for hotel shuttles. As I was walking around, alone, in New York at 2 AM, I thought it best to remove any sign of weakness, so I rolled my arm sling up and put it in my pocket. All the hotels with shuttles were booked, but I found Sleep Inn, a shady dive in a ghetto called Jamaica, which had rooms. I shared Lyft with a nice couple in the same predicament, then I shared a hotel lobby with a few drunks and what I’m sure were overnight escorts. The room, however, was surprisingly tidy and comfortable, and I got a good sleep. I also got to print my negative Covid test results just in time for the next flight.

Saturday, 25 September 2021

What a baggage fiasco! Last night I was instructed to come in early to make sure my bags were redirected from Terminal 1 to Terminal 8. They are like completely different airports at JFK. I did that, but the Qatar ticket counter at T8 was closed. I went to the JetBlue ticket counter at T5, but was told to check with the baggage office. I did that at T5, then T1, then T8, each with a ride on the air train and a long walk in between. Every office said they didn’t have my luggage, and to check the other office. When I ended up back at T5, they gave me a printout of the transfer of the bags to T1. About the time I thought I was going to have to lug all those bags myself with my gimpy arm, I finally made contact with Qatar Airlines, and they assured me they would take care of everything. They even offered to let me check in 5 hours early with the passengers of the 8:30 flight so I could get into the terminal and food court. Until then, the only seat available is the floor.

The Qatar folks bent over backwards to reassure me everything would be okay. The supervisor, Philip Richard, even let me check in five hours early so I could enjoy the comforts of the terminal rather than the floor of the lobby.

I found comfort in the New York Sports Bar, where I was allowed to use the remote to find the Florida - Tennessee game. I made myself such a fixture that, even as the Vols tried to narrow the margin of their Gator chomping, the bar manager left me in charge of the place while he left for a restroom break. I guess I seem trustworthy.

I joined my Fellow passengers at Gate 8 and waited for our flight to take off. I dozed off for awhile but awoke just in time to hear the boarding announcement. I ambled with the masked masses, and we started our journey. Philip had told me he was going to assign me a seat by myself but warned it may not stay that way. He was right, it didn’t, but the woman and I who shared the center section had one empty seat between us, just right for my arm sling and her oversized purse.

Sunday, 26 September 2021

So it was really Sunday when we boarded the plane and we stayed on it until arriving at Hamad International Airport in Doha, Qatar around 8:30 pm. I slept through breakfast and lunch, so I must have needed the rest.

Monday, 27 September 2021

The layover in Qatar seemed shorter than usual, and before I knew it, it was 1:00 am, time to board the plane for Entebbe, Uganda. The flight went quickly. I couldn’t sleep at all, but it was about two movies and a stick of gum long. I sat with a very friendly Muslim man who had the window seat While I manned the aisle, again with my broken wing in the empty seat between us. There were repeated opportunities to assist other passengers, so I made a few friends on this leg of the trip.

When we landed in Uganda, things felt familiar. I didn’t feel like a stranger visiting this time, well, at least not as much as the times before. I exchanged some money, and reactivated my Ugandan phone SIM, then waited at the baggage carousel until the handlers all came back in the building. I asked one, “Is that all of it?” and he told me it was. He said that if my bag was missing to file a report at the baggage office.

That took at least a half hour, and a painful one at that, as I realized I hadn’t packed any just-in-case clothes, and I checked all my toiletries. Sure, the airline would return all those donated clothes, but there are no XXXL clothes in Uganda. That is a very American size! I would wear what I had on until the airline reunited me with my luggage.

When I finally got outside, poor Isa, my driver, was patiently waiting, holding up his “Todd Lemmon” sign (even spelled right). I informed him there would be no luggage because it was all lost, and we set out for Karuma, in the northern district of Kiryandongo. On the way, Mama Janice (wife of the executive director of RG) called to explain this happens frequently, and the luggage return is the responsibility of the airline, so I shouldn’t have to pay for $300 cab fare to retrieve it.

As I neared RG my phone came alive as my friend, Robert, to whom I had sent some phone money, applied it to my newly reactivated account. I called him and then his wife, Zam, to tell them I was nearing. I called my “baby girl,” Janet, who told me she had been in the hospital since she took a fall Friday night. Instead of having the driver take me to Team House as usual, I had him drop me off at the hospital.

Dr. Robert, the Clinical Director of the hospital, and Fred, the X-ray technician, were at the gate when I arrived. It was good to see friendly faces!

Inside the hospital, it was shift change as I approached Janet. It was great to see Charge Nurse Miriam, my buddy Patrick, his wife Nancy, Betty, Doris, and Grace. They carried in so, the patients were amused as though I was some sort of celebrity. I might as well be Santa Claus, or Father Christmas as he is known here, for the white beard I’ve grown, the long hair I’ve shaved, and the weight I’ve put I. Since being here. Mucungwa (my Acholi name, pronounced Moo choong’ wa) has changed a lot, apparently. I also had to explain my arm sling and finally took it off to demonstrate my shoulder was, in fact, still attached. Then I got another round of hugs from everyone, because they wanted hugs with both arms. It was a warm greeting!

After visiting Robert and Zam, and saying hello to one of my Sponsoree children, Vivian, I found my way to Team House. It was like coming home. The vote over the Nike was just as amazing as before. I was assigned my old room, and it was comfortable. Even though Satan is persecuting me, I am safe, loved, moderately healthy, I have at least one set of clothes and a sheet called a lesu (lay’soo) that I can wrap myself in while my laundry dries. Even though I told him not to bother feeding me, Michael even brought me beef and chips (fries) which were out on the table when I woke up during the night. So I am well fed too. As I lay in bed listening to the hippos lowing in the Nile River below, I recognized I am in God’s hands, so even when I doubt it or want to turn back, I am where I am supposed to be.

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Easter blew past the Lemmons this year. Since I was working several days in a row to make up for time I took off to recover from hernia repair surgery, we really didn’t get to experience Easter the way we like. Still, we got to worship together in church and serve together in the nursery for the second service, so it didn’t go completely unnoticed. While Easter is a special time of remembrance of the death and resurrection of the Messiah, ever since Cindy and I spent Easter 2014 in Uganda, we are reminded of the marching on of time. This year, we are more than half-way through our seven year wait. We are nearer to our planned move-out in July 2021 than to our initial visit to Uganda in April 2014. It’s time to get planning!

We have signed up and booked a trip for a Medical Missions gathering of the Christian Health Services Corps in Texas next month, and plan another trip for an orientation education experience with Mercy Ships in June. While CHSC operates hospitals in several locations, one as near to Uganda as D.R. Congo, Mercy Ships generally deploys the Africa Mercy to ports west. Either of these ministries, as well as several others, may give us the opportunity for experience in missionary nursing and service Cindy and I desperately need, as well as exposure to other ministries with which we might someday partner. Cindy has wanted to serve on a Mercy Ships cruise since long before she met me, and we both would benefit from the experience of living and serving on board for a year or so before we deploy to Uganda. These are all merely possibilities at this point, but it seems prudent to begin gathering information and making plans, since time is flying so quickly by.

When last I wrote, I was reeling from the ego punch of losing my position in the Intensive Care Unit. Since then, I have made great strides toward learning how to manage six less-intense patients on a medical-surgical-telemetry unit, many of whom can walk, talk, and ask for coffee. This is a stark contrast to the two patients I would have in the ICU, who were often intubated, sedated or comatose, and struggling for life. It is a different kind of stress — that of being behind rather than terrified. Working on the night shift at least makes the pace something I can generally catch up with by daybreak. Overall, I’m glad for the change and do not plan to reapply to the ICU. Instead, I think the Emergency Department or perioperative care would give me better experience related to missionary nursing, the E.D. for clinics, village nursing care, or disaster response, and the O.R. for surgical support. Such decisions are pushed back by the hospital policy which requires I work in a unit for one year before making any other moves. I will content myself to spending this time learning to be a nurse, and then start over learning to be an Emergency Department or Operating Room nurse.

Additionally, my back trouble represents a physical obstacle in my development plan. It appears back surgery is necessary, but recovery times necessitate that I push surgery past July, so I have enough employment history to qualify for leave under the FMLA. My neurologist is confident a spinal fusion will remedy my problems if I don’t put it off too long or do anything too reckless in the meantime. So, I’m being careful and trying not to be a superhero at work.

every day is an opportunity to serve God, and everyone we meet is a mission field

It is easy to get lazy in “when I, then I’ll…” thinking, which takes the pressure off serving today deferring it to a hazy future moment, but every day is an opportunity to serve God, and everyone we meet is a mission field. Every single soul needs encouragement, and most remain in need of a Savior. Today, I’m asking God for the opportunity to reflect the glory of His grace onto those around me so that His love and light are felt, and so He is better known. Won’t you join me in this petition?