Wow, and I thought I relished my weekends last year. These past two weeks working in Mulago Hospital have been hugely rewarding and unforgettable, but I’m consistently panting for air by the time I reach Friday afternoon. I certainly feel a bit guilty as I practically run out of the hospital, looking forward to drinks with friends and not having to think about AIDS or death or orphans for two whole days – my patients don’t get to run out of there. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in medical school, it’s that you have to find a way to leave work at work, or else you’ll go nuts. At least that’s how I have to play it. Compartmentalizing. Some smart people taught me that.
And I’ve succeeded entirely this weekend – properly absorbed in the predominant themes of my non-hospital time in Uganda: (1) obsessing over the US election, (2) reflecting on nuances of life as an ex-pat, and (3) marveling over the fact that I’m still alive despite the unrelenting risks inherent to living in Uganda.
Like most days in Uganda, I’m thanking God I’m alive today. I heard it articulated beautifully the other day: “Life in Uganda is just a series of risks.” The streets are a nightmare – there are more per capita motor vehicle accident deaths in Uganda than almost any other country in the world, and it takes about two seconds on a Kampala street to see why. I think I’ve prayed more in the past two weeks than in the previous two decades of my life. I could share specific stories, but my mother is reading this. Suffice to say, I count my blessings to be alive every day. Even today, Dana and I chose to keep it low-key by opting to take a boat to a chimpanzee reserve rather than go whitewater rafting. We woke up early to take a bus to Entebbe, where we boarded a speedboat to be taken to the Ngamba Chimpanzee Reserve on an island in the middle of Lake Victoria (largest lake in the world, remember?)……we were about 15 minutes into our idyllic boat ride when we realized that the “horizon” was actually a massive storm cloud. Thus began the single most terrifying and exhilarating 45 minutes of my life. It would be impossible to describe what it was like to be stuck on a tiny speedboat in a massive thunderstorm, lightning everywhere, being pelted with rain, tossed around by black waves, clinging to the arms of strangers, and frantically scanning the horizon for signs of land. I shit you not. This really happened to us. The fear was so consuming that I shook for hours afterwards, high as a kite out of sheer amazement that we made it to the dock alive.
Oh - and the chimps were awesome, by the way.
And I’ve succeeded entirely this weekend – properly absorbed in the predominant themes of my non-hospital time in Uganda: (1) obsessing over the US election, (2) reflecting on nuances of life as an ex-pat, and (3) marveling over the fact that I’m still alive despite the unrelenting risks inherent to living in Uganda.
Like most days in Uganda, I’m thanking God I’m alive today. I heard it articulated beautifully the other day: “Life in Uganda is just a series of risks.” The streets are a nightmare – there are more per capita motor vehicle accident deaths in Uganda than almost any other country in the world, and it takes about two seconds on a Kampala street to see why. I think I’ve prayed more in the past two weeks than in the previous two decades of my life. I could share specific stories, but my mother is reading this. Suffice to say, I count my blessings to be alive every day. Even today, Dana and I chose to keep it low-key by opting to take a boat to a chimpanzee reserve rather than go whitewater rafting. We woke up early to take a bus to Entebbe, where we boarded a speedboat to be taken to the Ngamba Chimpanzee Reserve on an island in the middle of Lake Victoria (largest lake in the world, remember?)……we were about 15 minutes into our idyllic boat ride when we realized that the “horizon” was actually a massive storm cloud. Thus began the single most terrifying and exhilarating 45 minutes of my life. It would be impossible to describe what it was like to be stuck on a tiny speedboat in a massive thunderstorm, lightning everywhere, being pelted with rain, tossed around by black waves, clinging to the arms of strangers, and frantically scanning the horizon for signs of land. I shit you not. This really happened to us. The fear was so consuming that I shook for hours afterwards, high as a kite out of sheer amazement that we made it to the dock alive.
Oh - and the chimps were awesome, by the way.
1 comment:
Love those boats. Brian
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