No place to lay their head-Save the concrete floor

One of our girls, named Gloria, is having lots of trouble.

This year (2011) alone, she has been admitted to the hospital twice and taken in to be assessed by hospital staff twice. We are planning to take her again on Thursday to try a procedure called postural drainage (for those interested in medical jargon!). Through our many interactions at the hospital, I am getting to know what life "inside" is like.

Each room at Buikwe hospital (the one closest to us) holds around 20 patients in each room. The room measures about 35 feet squared, with metal framed single beds around. In the pediatric ward it is not uncommon for 2-3 patients to share a single sized bed.

When you bring a patient to the hospital, the family is responsible for bringing linens and clothes for the sick. None of this is provided.

The sick must have their daily needs met. The nursing staff is too sparse to do things like feed, change, bathe, and even give medications to their patients. So family is responsible for all these things. These caregivers are allowed to stay at the hospital. So they get accommodations. A spot on the concrete floor covered by a straw mat brought from home. Porridge for breakfast, Posho (corn meal) and beans for lunch and dinner every day. Same as the patients. For around 7,000 Ugandan shillings equal to about $3.50 American dollars daily. Which is often too expensive for many families in our area to afford.

The hospital is a hard place, no matter where in the world you are. But the hospitals I've been at around GSF have frustrated and disgusted me. But they make me think of Jesus.

Those are the kinds of places I've imagined Jesus would choose to go. The crowded, the exhausting, the hard (literally and figuratively!). I don't really know how to make that realization fit into my experience. Maybe some love via a smile? Love via a handshake? Love via a Lugandan greeting to a sick kid or wiped-out mom? I'm glad I still have some time here to figure that one out.