A#8 Wednesday, 11/8/21
The morning is clear and breezy. The smell of the desert’s dust is in the air and there is a tent full of waiting people when we arrive at clinic.
Today I have been asked to take a day trip to Arusha, 2 hours away. I will accompany 3 children who are in need of advanced care. Sandy goes with me and Dominic is our driver.
Dr. Victor is a government appointed doctor and dentist who has joined us in clinic this week. He has made our trip to town possible. He is marvelously well connected. He sat beside me in clinic and made several phone calls to colleagues in Arusha to arrange care. I sat amazed as I realized he called the doctors themselves and they themselves answered and agreed to see my charges. He also gave me his personal phone to assure connection. He is a lovely man with a broad smile and ample laugh. He calls me Mama Annay.
Neema is my oldest today. I will take her to the Plaster House and her uncle will meet us there.
Namayani is next. She is 10 years old and has severe Anemia. I will take her to a Cardiology clinic for evaluation and probable admission. Her dad will meet us there. And, Saringe is last. He is 9 years old with swollen joints. I will take him to an Orthopedic clinic. His mother and baby sister ride with in the van.
I have been given the front seat of the van with my charges all in the back. Apparently, they honor me with the front seat because I am their elder. I am not so fond of that term but I do accept the seat.
The dirt road to town is washboard bumpy. My seatbelt prevents me from turning around to check on my patients so I trust Sandy will let me know. Poor Saringe has never ridden in a car before and vomits his way to Arusha. When I finally understand, I give him something for it and he finds relief!
The Plaster House is our first stop. It is just outside of town and in the foothills of Mt. Meru. I am stunned at its beauty when I step from the van. There are misty low clouds lazily moving across the green grassy hills. It feel like a scene from Maui. The laughter of children lightly dancies on the wind with a stained glass porch, a butterfly chair and well tended landscapes completing the look.
It is lovely place in look and feel and we are welcomed. I think Neema will be in good hands.
Next, we take Namayani to her cardiology appointment. The Moyo clinic is clean and bustling. They offer many services but see us quickly. The Cardiologist with whom we arranged care will see her later in the afternoon. Meanwhile, her dad at her side, she will have some tests done.
We leave with Saringe for the Total Care orthopedic clinic. It is quiet with few patients and we are seen quickly.
It again, offers a variety of services. The Ortho doc is a young, mission minded man who is gentle, skilled and kind. He welcomes me and Saringe and explains his thoughts as he does his exam. His conclusion needs additional testing which he will send to us but Saringe is free to return home for treatment.
When we return to Namayani she is being seen by the young, handsome, kind Cardiologist. He agrees she is dangerously anemic and advises we admit her for a blood transfusion. He suggests a small Lutheran hospital across town where he practices.
It is now 4p. I have strict orders to leave the city no later than 5:30 to make it home by dark. This seems an unlikely goal but we try.
The hospital is old with peeling paint, difficult smells and a room overflowing with waiting grim people. We are required to pay for admit to the ER and the anticipated tests before we can be evaluated so we join the waiting ones. We wait first to receive a number, then to pay, then to be called in for care. Brave Namayani sits quiet and unmoving while Sandy and I negotiate the lines.
While we wait, arrangements are made for our overnight stay in Arusha. This process is as wait-intensive as it is at home and nightfall has arrived before we are ready to go.
I have tried to be a comfort to Namayani without words but it is not until they start her IV that I see her react with any age appropriate fear. I run to her side and hold her with words that I can only hope reassure her with their tone. When they come to admit her, she rises to leave with me and I realize the limitations of my language. She does not understand and is afraid. Sandy comes to her side and tells her what is in store for her but my heart has already broken. How could I have missed the preparation of my patient? I leave praying that God will make a way in the path of my inadequacy.
It has been decided that I will stay at Dr. Victor’s home with his wife and daughters. My charges will stay at the Texas hotel.
I am greeted by two energetic daughters, 8 &11 who speak excellent English and call me ‘Annay’. We share a meal of boiled fish and they give me a bucket of hot water for my ‘bath’. A little unsure about what to do with the bucket, I wash my face and feet and call it good. It has been a tiring but pleasant day. I am grateful for God’s provision seen and unseen.
TanzaniaAnne
Tripping with God: Stories of Faith and Inspiration 